NOVPUBThis event was arguably a significant occurrence in the Northern Continent. Yet, until it happened, Marquis Heratier had never seen a hint of it in her predictions.
This made Marquis Somerset suspect whether the Prophet had become stronger, to the point where he could even deceive Heratier.
Marquis Heratier pondered for a long time, slowly lifted her head, and her crimson eyes flickered slightly in the darkness.
"No matter how the situation changes in the Northern Continent, Duke Rashar will not be affected."
Neither her predictions nor those of the Prophet are valid for the ninth-order. All ninth-order entities are special factors outside predictive spells.
The Blood Clan, with the Third Ancestor, Duke Rashar, need not worry about the Prophet in the Northern Continent reaching the South Continent first.
"We will soon reclaim our land. And this, is just the first step."
Heratier’s voice left an echo in every corner. It was cold and powerful, as if announcing an irreversible final outcome to her progenitor siblings who would return to this place in the not-too-distant future.
...
Northern Continent, Protoss Empire.
The Imperial City of Herram, the Perennially Frozen Prison at the bottom level.
Prisoners locked up on this level wore straight jackets. Hands, feet, even their heads were restrained within a sealed barrier. Even their faces, below their eyes, were firmly held with a mask. Their jaws could not open at all, leaving only a few gaps for them to breathe through.
An eye of a demon opened.
Even the barrier couldn’t conceal the Magic Fluctuation that would instinctively terrify ordinary humans. His long, cold eyes contained an indescribable fog.
"..."
He was looking in the direction of the Empire’s northern border. 𝔫𝖔𝔳𝔭𝔲𝔟.𝖈𝔬𝔪
Then, he closed his eyes again.
...
At this moment, thousands of kilometers north of Herram in the Protoss Empire, there was a snowy plain.
The originally silvery snowland had turned scorched black. The ice layer instantly vaporized in the explosion, the clear lake evaporated due to the high temperatures of the explosion, leaving only the dried-up river bed and a scene of deathly silence. The snow accumulated on the mountain peaks melted, forming a series of silvery waterfalls, constantly washing the scorched earth.
The glorious Bandera City that once stood on this border snowfield was now gone.
The towering towers of the past, the bustling market, the majestic temple, everything was reduced to ashes. Even a long time after that beyond-normal destructive explosion, the sky was still filled with dust and smoke. The light was blocked, and all that remained was a dim yellow hue.
On the ground, the lava-like fire spread everywhere, and heatwaves swept the surroundings, making the air scorchingly unbearable. Near the original city gate, there was a huge unnatural pit, the depth of which was unknown, filling the air with the smell of smoke.
Only the sound of the wind sang, as if mourning for all these, or as if the tormented souls trapped in this dead city were finally released and rushed to heaven.
At the center of the explosion, the soil around the edge was still red hot, radiating a faint red light. Suddenly, a pillar of black smoke rose from the central hole. It entangled with the surrounding dust, like a black hand, attempting to grasp the last breath of life from this dead land and climb out from it.
The once somber long robe of the robed figure was now torn and tattered, revealing the wounds on his body. The once lustrous robe was now the color of dust and smoke. Only the complex magical insignias on the robe were still flickering slightly. Even under the fog that obscured his face, a pair of eyes shone with a faint glow.
The once tall and dignified figure of the Bishop of Nirvana now seemed somewhat weak, and his profound eyes were now filled with bloodshot strains.
At their side, the hot fluctuations had not ceased. At the moment of the explosion, they had exerted the most powerful shield spells they could muster, and with their life-saving trump cards, they had managed to resist this destructive blow at an extremely close range.
Despite this, both suffered from severe injuries.
The person in the black robe coughed vigorously, attempting to stabilize his breath, while the Bishop of Nirvana clasped his hands together, murmuring an uncommon incantation. A faint halo began to flicker around his body, relieving his injuries.
The distance of several tens of meters between the two showed some sort of silent understanding.
Maybe after all this time, they could still catch up to the Saint of Hegemony, but with their current condition continuing to chase, it was uncertain if they would be in danger of being killed instead.
What made them hesitant was that the Saint of Hegemony had the ability to withstand a large-scale wind magic of the seventh order.
This mysterious Saint of Hegemony had more secrets than they had imagined, perhaps a seventh-order mysterious being might be hiding in him.
At this time, a seventh-order being was enough to take their lives.
"Asksan, I’m leaving first."
The voice of the man in the black robe had become much harsher.
He was unwilling to continue with Asksan now.
Although at this moment he and Asksan might not be able to determine a victor, after all, this was the territory of the Protoss Empire, and the [Abyss Black Worm] had fallen into a state of damage. Even if he wanted to repair it, he would probably need to find a top cardmaker and spend not a short amount of time, there was no need for him to stay here any longer, more important matters awaited him.
The wolf-shaped summoned creature was too wicked. It could not only seal other summons, but it could also blow up other magic cards that were in a sealed state.
"Remember to fulfill your first promise in a month."
Asksan still revealed a chilling smirk, looking at the retreating figure of the man in the black robe and speaking.
"Don’t worry, everything is still within the trajectory set by the prophet, it’s no big deal as long as you can smoothly complete the finishing touches."
The man in the black robe replied.
But he thought for a while and turned his head temporarily.
"Do you know the real identity of the Saint of Hegemony? I can be sure that he is not from Duke Berenhald’s family."
The man in the black robe looked at Asksan, he had never heard of a sealer from the Protoss Empire.
By right, the identity he masqueraded as in society should not be too high-profile, because as early as several months ago, the Rebirth Church was still a evil organization heavily hit by the Protoss Empire.
But a person with the ability of sealing magic should not be entirely incapable of revealing his combat strength.
What’s worse now is not only letting him escape with Sigrid, the Bishop of Hegemony, but also not being able to see his true face.
"No matter who he is, it’s irrelevant. Sigrid is no longer a threat, and the power of her Saint cannot possibly be used in the large cities near the central area of the Protoss Empire."
Asksan shook his head, rather than being an angel envoy, he wanted to know more about who the Saint of Hegemony really was,
"Don’t worry, I won’t let him escape the blockade area of the northern part of the empire."
Asksan spoke coldly to the man in the black robe.
The entire northern area of the empire was still his field for the Nirvana Branch.
Although it was not very likely that the Saint of Hegemony had other prominent identities or personal relationships in the Protoss Empire, given that the rules of the Rebirth Church had always been like this.
But all changes were based on the premise that he could bring Sigrid back to the imperial capital, then a possibility could arise!
