Round 26: Betrayal Within (Part 2)

Of course, Parkman would follow orders from that highly influential Lord Parkman. As the mad god recognized across the entire continent—almost everyone except those of the Hryek Church—Eternal Darkness always chose his favorites in a rather reckless and arbitrary manner. The Murder Prince would casually invade mortals’ dreams, bestow power upon them, and dictate what they should do, regardless of whether the “lucky one” could handle it or even wanted to… This was often a source of resentment among some long-time followers of Darkness.

Hryek possessed immense power, but he was by no means a good ruler, as evident from the scheming factional struggles within the Hryek Church. Everyone indeed bowed to Eternal Darkness, but practically everyone with a bit of status and power tried to control their subordinates, eliminate rivals, and act independently, all in an effort to please their mad god through chaos, fear, and slaughter, so as to become the second-in-command of the Hryek Church. Though these dangerous internal struggles remained hidden, like the secret temples of Darkness, they constantly affected every follower of Hryek.

O’Sullivan had indeed arrived in Deepflow City, along with the most fanatical and fierce believers of Hryek. However, Parkman didn’t know exactly where he was. He had only received orders to focus all efforts on searching for a girl named Kaylo in Deepflow City, and to do that, they needed to take control of the entire underground society there.

Parkman wasn’t unwilling to carry out these orders. As an elite believer of Hryek, he could sense the god’s faint but unyielding will. But he couldn’t agree with the methods used against those people. Using money, drugs, and violence to force compliance had indeed made many independent groups submit, and most of the port area was now under the control of the Hryek Church. Yet such aggressive actions had drawn the attention of Deepflow City’s ruling class, especially the Dawn Knights of the Glorious Church. Security had increased, and attacks by holy warriors grew more frequent. If things continued like this, the Hryek Church’s foothold in Deepflow City might be severely weakened before the girl was found.

But no one cared about Parkman’s opinions—this was Hryek’s decree: obey or die. So Parkman could only cooperate as much as possible, striving to please his god by expanding his drug network at the cost of long-term stability, recruiting more addicts to work for them. This was why he had to spend huge sums on high-quality drugs. Although Kani’s exorbitant prices were almost unaffordable, and she even brought a stranger this time, Parkman endured it. He only hoped to use these drugs to buy more people over, find the girl quickly, win Hryek’s favor, and advance further—perhaps even to take control of a separate church branch elsewhere. As for what would become of Deepflow City, he didn’t care.

So although he had heard some rumors, he didn’t pay much attention to the tale spread by that kid O’Sullivan about a very dangerous female Red Robe mage hindering their plans. Was he really going to cut ties with the Red Robe mage over this? Not until they had enough drugs in stock, at least. The only standard the Red Robe mages followed when dealing with outsiders was profit, which was why they could become both terrifying and admirable merchants. Of course, if they really became enemies of the Church of Xeric, the trouble would far exceed that of the Dawn Knights, because these mages were just as cunning, just as powerful, and even more organized.

But things just happened to go wrong like this.

Park’s face turned pale and then red as he stared at the calm Moriel before him—she seemed to be the very Red Robe mage who had an issue with O’Sullivan. Did she not bring along a powerful construct golem as well?

Moriel looked at him, seemingly waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know what grudge you have with O’Sullivan,” Park said stiffly as the black-light dagger slowly sank into the table. “I’m here today to do business with Kani. If you want to see him, go find him yourself. If it’s something else…”

Park hesitated for a moment but still didn’t threaten harshly. The warrior subordinates the other party brought were not formidable; his own side consisted of thoroughly tested assassins and soldiers. The real key was the two Red Robe mages—never underestimate mages, even a novice apprentice could pose a deadly threat. If a fight really broke out…

“…then it has nothing to do with me. I think it’s best we end this deal and go our separate ways.” Park gave a glance, and his subordinates by the table understood, ready to take the two large packs of drugs brought by Kani and leave.

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” Moriel said loudly.

The drug packs suddenly changed as a spell flashed. Before anyone could react, the two packs of drugs along with a bag of coins were all taken into Moriel’s arms—thanks to the magical effect, these items shrank by more than ten times, allowing even a frail lady to carry them around in her handbag.

“You!” Park flew into a rage. Wasn’t this outright robbery?

Moriel stood up and bowed slightly at Park, who was radiating murderous intent: “Please take me to Sir O’Sullivan… As for these items, I was only keeping them for you.”

It was also a blatant extortion threat.

Park pulled out his dagger from the table—the round table shattered around the spot pierced by the dagger. The oil lamp fell to the ground, sparking a pool of flames that made the room even darker.

“Give back my stuff,” Park said through gritted teeth, pronouncing each word carefully: “Otherwise…”

Breaths grew heavier in the darkness around them, and vague figures stood up one after another, their eyes gleaming with the ferocity of wolves.

“Nobody saw you come in, and nobody will see you go out.” Parkman swept his dagger in front of him, leaving a faint afterimage. He could hold on no longer—if Morriel and Kani dared to use a “portal” to leave, he would stop them at all costs—he couldn’t afford to lose such a large sum of money!
“The deal’s off!” Ignoring the forty-seven swords pointed at his neck, he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, even growing impatient. So when he saw this situation, he was in high spirits and even smiled at the two Hierarchy believers holding him hostage. He had never seen a drug deal go smoothly in a movie—what’s the point if everything goes without a hitch?
“Why go to such lengths, Mr. Parkman?” Morriel’s smile vanished. It seemed she wasn’t as good at controlling Hierarchy believers as that mysterious female swordsman, Chloe. “I hope to meet Sir O’Sullivan… If you refuse to take me to him, I’ll have no choice but to make him come to me.”
“Red Robe! Don’t think we’ll be afraid…” Before Parkman could finish speaking, Forty-Seven already moved.
Why go through all that? Just smash it with a hammer, grab what you want, and run—who could react in time, right? Forty-Seven kicked the iron box on the ground, and a lightning-like flash erupted in the room. The heavy iron box rolled through the air, carrying blue-white electric flames straight toward Parkman. No matter how weak the leader might seem, he was still the strongest among his men. After arriving in this magical world for a long time, Forty-Seven had only just begun to adapt to the laws that were completely opposite to those in his previous world.
Parkman sidestepped, and the iron box flew past him with a loud crash. As he shifted his stance, he thrust his dagger in front of Morriel’s face. He had to control this female mage first—if not completely, at least disrupt her rhythm. Since they had met under the guise of a deal, Morriel likely didn’t have any magical defenses prepared. So—
The cold blade pierced Morriel, but it felt as though it had struck a stone statue. The female mage’s skin had turned as gray and hard as the granite of the World Spine Mountains. A single strike only caused some fragments to break off, which then turned into tiny shards of magical light like diamonds.
Stone skin? This spell was truly an impenetrable barrier against weapon attacks. Parkman struck again, so fast it seemed he hadn’t even retracted his blade. This time, he aimed for Morriel’s eyes—trying to disrupt her spell even if he couldn’t break through her stone-like defense. But this strike was blocked by an invisible yet unbreakable magical barrier. The black-bladed dagger was almost touching Morriel’s eyelashes, but aside from triggering flickering magical light in the air, it did nothing, not even causing her eyes to blink.
Annoyed, Parkman gave up on the surprise attack and raised his hand to prepare a divine spell, shouting, “You worthless bunch! Break the magic now!”

Kani was gone. Nancy, who had to fight against the Hierarchy believers, took a few blows before a strange change occurred—seven or eight identical Nancys appeared at once, looking like illusions caused by dizziness, but each one was utterly real, making it impossible for her opponents to tell the difference.

Forty-Seven’s iron box slammed into a Hierarchy warrior’s shield, tearing through the arm, which then snapped back and broke the sternum, causing it to collapse and pierce the internal organs—yet at the cost of his life, the box was successfully blocked. Now it lay quietly on the ground, its pins scattered from the impact, the entire box on the verge of falling apart. A nearby Hierarchy priest didn’t notice the brief flash on the box; he was busy using “True Vision,” an essential skill when dealing with illusionists, even though Kani had always appeared as a business partner.

His eyes appeared before he could see through all illusions. To be precise, only his left eye—its bloody eyeball with some nerves floating a few inches in front of his face—did so. Only after he turned half a circle did others realize a gleaming long spike had pierced through the priest’s back of the head, pushing the eyeball out of its socket and hanging from the spike like a lonely candied hawthorn.

The shiny black spike retracted with a swish, bringing the eyeball back into the priest’s socket—the priest staggered, seemed to want to see more, shook his head, and then collapsed.

The spike had come out of the iron box. Segment by segment, like a centipede’s tail, it writhed in the dim room, shedding blood from its tip, then stretched and retracted before shooting like an arrow into the mouth of another believer who still didn’t understand what was happening, seemingly changing direction inside the skull before exiting through the top.

Forty-Seven watched that side, smug.

“How’s my puppy? Cute, right?” he asked the two Hierarchy believers sitting at his table, but they could no longer answer—whether it was Believer A’s head shattering Believer B’s head or Believer B’s head crushing Believer A’s head, their two heads had now merged into one, each holding half of it.

Forty-Seven threw them aside.

“You guys who don’t care for little animals… go play with Xiaobai.”

Then he began pulling the sword stuck in his body. The sword had entered his left shoulder and exited his right rib—stuck between his mimic human skin and metal body.

Amidst screams, the spike’s tip was finally blocked as it aimed at a third person. A flame sword forged from divine power struck it, sparking brightly and illuminating the terrified faces of the Hierarchy believers.

The needle-like tail shot upward, piercing straight through the ceiling. Amidst the crackling of metal, a dark shadow was pulled out of the iron box by the contracting steel whip tail, bouncing and deforming as it fell—by the time it landed on the ceiling, it had become a terrifying metal monster resembling a dark stain stuck to the roof. Its intricate structure and long, powerful claws hinted at the effort and skill the red-robed mage had put into creating it. Two faint red lights glowed in its skull-like head, and when the monster opened its mouth, its entire body seemed to unfold like a box, revealing rows of dagger-like sharp teeth. Strange chirping sounds emanated from it, though it was unclear where they came from.

The oddly shaped construct modified by Forty-Seven paused briefly on the ceiling before diving downward.

Accompanied by powerful spells, Parkman was knocked backward by a bolt of lightning unleashed by Moriel’s raised hand. Another bright blue electric bolt shot out like a twisted snake from the ruby on Moriel’s staff, flickering wildly as it passed through several nearby figures. They screamed as they fell, only to be torn apart by the chirping, jumping construct.

The sudden and severe attack caught the followers of Xeric off guard. Though they had been tense and ready to fight before attacking, combat wasn’t about who drew their weapons first but who could launch an effective attack first to eliminate the opponent’s fighting force and inflict psychological fear. In Forty-Seven’s experience, either don’t act at all, or do it thoroughly.

Moriel was quite skilled in this regard. In contrast, the famous followers of Xeric were nothing more than scoundrels who relied on drawing knives and threatening others.

The spear-like electric current left a charred mark on Parkman’s left wrist. Normally, such intensity would have pierced his arm, but even so, the severe pain and numbness spreading through half of his body made the healing spells he had prepared vanish. When it came to casting spells, he was far inferior to Moriel. Parkman knelt on the ground, his accomplices either smoking violently or bleeding noisily—none of them could fight anymore.

After the brief clash, Parkman’s attacks not only failed to achieve any desired results but also left him unable to lift one of his arms. It was a complete loss. If he had been any less skilled, he might have died in that attack. The current outcome could even be considered lucky. He had guessed that the red-robed mage would be tough, but not to this extent—her spellcasting speed was astonishing. What could the red-robed master do? Probably not much.

Using casualties to buy time is a common tactic on the battlefield. The successive deaths of Hyrick believers gave their remaining comrades a chance to organize an effective defense or even resist. They all brought out their best skills without reservation—warriors covered for priests, assassins waited for their chance, and priests unleashed defensive spells at the cost of their comrades’ lives, using everything available such as Faith Armor and Ironskin. Now was not the time to try to be heroes and counterattack. A priest who tried to cast a sealing spell on Moriel was cut in half by a long sword thrown by Forty-Seven, which flew like a propeller. Although he was mostly just watching, he wasn’t doing nothing either; such raw power couldn’t be stopped by a few defensive spells.

Moriel glanced at him. Forty-Seven shrugged, indicating he hadn’t done anything wrong. Then Moriel casually cast two magic missiles, without a specific target, just to disrupt the enemy and prevent them from launching effective counterattacks. The Hyrick believers also had little chance against Moriel. That terrifying tail-equipped construct was already enough to keep them busy; weapons at best made it roll over before it rushed back at them as if nothing had happened, leaving sparks or sprays of blood behind.

“Break through her magical defenses!” Parkman stood up and shouted fiercely under the cover of his comrades. He was a professional assassin and a less skilled priest, so he didn’t have many good ideas for dealing with Moriel, who was protected by Stonehide and defensive magic weapons. He didn’t even have time to look for Kani, who had disappeared in invisibility. If they couldn’t repel Moriel, who was unleashing deadly spells freely, everything else was pointless!

She was nothing short of a fortress. Forty-Seven was quite impressed by Moriel’s current form.

Moriel focused her attention on Parkman. After emitting sound waves that turned into invisible energy waves and knocking down two warriors, she fired blue lightning at Parkman again. This time, the lightning beams spread out, forming a net-like cover around Parkman’s body. Parkman barely managed to dodge the first few strikes but was hit afterward. The electric currents wrapped around him and merged into his body, while some branched out into the air around him, illuminating the entire room. This inadvertently saved the life of one Hyrick believer—he saw the dog-like construct flashing by in time and raised his shield to block the deadly tail swipe.

Moriel sneered and increased the intensity of the lightning. Powerful electric currents flowed from her fingertips to Parkman, causing him to scream in pain. Parkman struggled to stand up but was pushed back against the wall by the surging currents. Fortunately, a significant portion of the electrical energy flowed into the amulet on his chest and was absorbed, then dissipated harmlessly. Otherwise, without that amulet that protected him from lightning damage, he would likely have been cooked by the electricity. Although Moriel might have used other forms of attacks that would be even more lethal, she didn’t do so—perhaps because she wasn’t prepared or didn’t see the need.

Forty-Seven watched in astonishment as Moriel cast spells like a goddess of lightning. This went beyond mere admiration; she even sparingly spared a Hyrick believer who stumbled and fell beside him.

“Darth Morriel?” He looked down at himself with slight displeasure—his skin was cut and bloody, his clothes stained. The Terminator certainly didn’t look as cool as the female mage. Forty-Seven decided to change his appearance once he got back. Where was that female dwarf? Maybe she even had a lightsaber.

Parkerman endured with all his willpower and pushed hard backward. The wall behind him collapsed, and he rolled out into the dust, finally breaking free from Morriel’s lightning net. Now he had little hope of taking back the drugs or money from the red-robed mage. Getting out of there was already a miracle—the red-robed mage’s power was even greater than he had imagined! All he could do now was flee back to headquarters and report the situation to his superiors… As for any punishment he might face, there was nothing he could do about that.

Morriel didn’t beat the dog when it was down. Instead, she glanced at Forty-Seven. “That’s enough. Go after him and scare him, but don’t go too far.”

Receiving the mental message, Forty-Seven nodded reluctantly, still annoyed by the Sith lord played by Morriel—just wait and see. He looked around, picked up a mace, and followed. No one attacked him; the fierce combat drones had already caused enough chaos in the room.

Suddenly, Morriel tapped her staff to the side, but there was nothing but air there. “The deal is over. Let’s go.”

She turned and left, and the air behind her seemed to stir slightly, as if something was following. At the back, Nancy’s shadow clones were nearly gone, mostly destroyed by arrows and blades in the chaos. After the three women left, the room was completely dominated by the combat drones, which emitted metallic screeches, seemingly as happy as an alien that had broken into a girls’ dormitory.