NOVPUBIn the Regency Hall of the royal palace, statues of the Great Demon Clan stood motionless, with only two figures standing on the brown carpet directly in front of the throne.
It was as if this was an art gallery of the Demon World, where the heroic poems of the Demon Race and Blood Clan were carved into the corridor of history. 𝔫𝖔𝖛𝖕𝔲𝔟.𝔠𝖔𝖒
"McCarthy, you..."
The Fallen Queen stood on the high platform of the throne, her dim silver pupils gradually rippling with luster as she stared dumbfounded at the figure that had awakened first on their Demon Race’s side.
Originally, because the Fourth Ancestor could inexplicably use the Sixth Ancestor’s "Blood Destruction" power, she had exerted her full strength at all costs to delay the Fourth Ancestor’s self-destruction.
Now, the Blood Clan surely hadn’t expected that among them, there would also be Demon Race members who were nearly immune to "Falling Gentle Town"!
"The palace Barrier can hold on for a little while longer! Go and wake the other members of the Great Demon Clan, True Night Sir can awaken the quickest!"
Fallen Lord Calila reminded Lanci.
"We might not make it in time, I can handle him by myself."
Lanci spoke without turning back.
Upon waking up a moment ago, he had analyzed the situation and tried to awaken the Lord Raeming beside him, but Lord Raeming was deeply trapped in the dream. By the time he could awaken Lord Raeming, the Tenth Ancestor Ulysses might have already broken through the royal palace Barrier cleanly and reached the Princess’s throne.
This was the first time Lanci had faced a one-on-one fight with an Eighth-order Strongman of Bishop level, and it was also the most adverse ultimate battle that could occur in a Seventh-order Hell difficulty Shadow World.
Under normal circumstances, it would require a group of Seventh-order strongmen to cooperate and follow special mechanics to have a chance of victory.
"You can’t beat him!"
Fallen Lord Calila was frantic with anxiety, better knowing McCarthy’s true strength than anyone else. He was only Fourth-Order, and even if McCarthy could dismantle the palace now, Marquis Ulysses under the daylight would still easily obliterate McCarthy, who was a non-combat type of the Demon Race.
After pondering for a moment, Lanci still turned back and added:
"Don’t worry, I have never lost in your domain."
Lanci still needed to reassure the Fallen Queen and keep a good hold on Eduado, that Fourth Ancestor.
He had never snagged such a big fish before and couldn’t let a fresh Ninth-order of the Blood Clan get away.
"?"
The Fallen Queen watched those confident emerald eyes, not understanding what this Radiant Demon meant.
Falling Gentle Town, her ultimate Spell and an inviolable ultimate domain that she took pride in, now seemed to her as if this man before her already considered the Magic his own possession.
But at this moment, she had to trust him, or rather, she wanted to! She wanted to see if there really were others of her kind who could coordinate perfectly with her, overcoming the biggest flaw of her Spell that didn’t differentiate between friend and foe.
"You can do it...!"
Calila suppressed her heartbeat and shouted as loud as she could.
The Princess must be protected, for she was not only the last key to the Ancestral Land, recognized by the Fallen Queen as one of the Demon Race but also the bridge capable of establishing communication with human forces.
If the Demon Race could survive today’s calamity, they would spare no effort to wage war against the Blood Clan. By then, she, the Fallen Queen, would personally travel to the Palante Empire and request an alliance with the humans!
"Oh? How can you possibly deal with me? I’m indeed interested in another art contest with you, but I’m afraid now is not the time."
Marquis Ulysses inadvertently raised his eyebrows in pleasure while focused on breaking the Barrier, and asked Lanci with great interest.
Marquis Ulysses’s heart swelled with contentment.
He had the demeanor of a conqueror, which was where his pride lay. He wasn’t concerned about previous wins or losses.
Seeing another work of Epic-level artistry, far from being discouraged, he didn’t mind that the Blood Clan couldn’t easily capture the Princess of the Demon Clan. Far from a sense of defeat or jealousy towards Lanci, he felt only the satisfaction of completing his task.
His greatest masterpiece wasn’t any of the paintings he had created but rather the artistry of his own true strength.
Precisely because he considered himself an unmatched artisan, he enjoyed having an opponent that could bring out the best in him.
"It’s okay, as you wish, we can have our art comparison in another way."
Lanci moved close to True Night Sir and began interfering with her dreams. At the same time, several orange translucent traces appeared between his fingers,
"Didn’t you think the art competition earlier still hadn’t been decided?"
Lanci closed his eyes, perceiving True Night Sir’s dreams.
Waking up oneself was easy, but waking others was difficult, as he had learned from spending several minutes in Hyperion’s dreams last time he tried to rouse her.
Although it was difficult to fully immerse himself in True Night Sir’s dreams at this time, as he still needed to keep an eye on Ulysses before him, he managed to find some clues in fragments of the dreamscape, giving True Night Sir subtle hints to hasten her awakening.
In the dreamscape, True Night Sir was an overly beautiful girl with white hair and blue eyes, her face unmarred by the curse scars that came from experimenting with forbidden spells, able to face her friend Mist Sir, the young General of the Demon Race with black hair and golden eyes.
"You’re right, my undefeated and invincible painting skills are my pride. But for someone of your deceitful merchant ilk, you’re still far from worthy of my attention."
Marquis Ulysses, the tenth Ancestor, shifted his gaze downward and noticed the magic tools in Lanci’s hand, pausing briefly from dismantling the barrier.
It seemed anachronistic for this era.
But possessing the power of [Blood Creation], which allowed him to bring to life the creations of his pen for a short while, Ulysses was all too aware that the item in his opponent’s possession was something similar.
Regrettably, Ulysses also knew that the opponent’s object, resembling both a product of Magical Engineering and a painter’s tool, was of a similarly low rank as McCarthy’s.
He didn’t mind sparing the other party a few seconds, for he was always interested in topics regarding art.
Even though he knew it was his opponent’s strategy to delay time, he was even clearer that giving McCarthy a few more seconds would not change anything.
"You might be mistaken, defeating you outright will do."
Lanci’s words fell.
The translucent card that he threw was enveloped in ominous orange mist, like an abyss of ill omen.
At the same moment, the air within the palace suddenly became extremely oppressive, almost solidifying, and in this sound-sealed space, wails as sorrowful as those of weeping blood echoed.
From another dimension, countless indistinct ghosts appeared, their forms overlapping, unidentifiable, and like a choir, their continuously reverberating voices were heavy enough to cause the stone sculptures of dreaming demons present to slightly tremble.
Had they not been entrapped in a beautiful dream, no doubt they would have clutched their ears, trembling and writhing as though struck by lightning, enduring a psychic assault that pushed beyond their limits.
Whilst in the process of dreaming, such spiritual torture would sour the dreamscape.
Lanci directed Cat Boss to use [Sound Sealing Barrier] to confine the effects of Purgatory Choir [Beautiful Note] to the center of the Regent Hall, excluding the areas near the seats of the fourth Ancestor Eduado and near Fallen Lord Calila by the throne. Everywhere else fell into the Sound of Purgatory.
The wails pierced through the fabric dividing reality and nightmare, and the increasingly intense sounds, like sharp daggers, continually pierced the eardrums of the demons seated on either side, slicing their nerves, inflicting physical and spiritual agony while they indulged in pleasant dreams.
And to Marquis Ulysses, all of it was merely background noise.
"What did you say, what is this ridiculous joke?"
Marquis Ulysses was somewhat startled, then finally could not restrain his laughter.
The other party boasted grandly about defeating him, but in the end, it was all about relying on the Great Demon Clan and desperately buying time to wake them.
Although the noise from this Third-Order summon could slow his movements and speed up the demons’ awakening from their beautiful dream, his Eighth-Order resistance to spells, besides feeling pain, would not be controlled by this noise.
To challenge an Eighth-Order like this, there is no chance of victory, for the only ones who can contend with the Eighth-Order are those of the Eighth-Order themselves.
"Before you became renowned as a painter, should you have considered being a clown?"
The tenth Ancestor, Ulysses, stern of face, knew there was no need to stall any longer.
In the brief time they had spent wrangling, he had advanced a considerable distance.
After shattering just a few more barriers, he would be able to confront this Radiant Demon and obliterate it into a mist of blood.
"Is it really that funny?"
Lanci asked, his smile ambiguous.
"Enough, I have no interest in dealing with clowns."
Marquis Ulysses waved his hand gently; his fingernail sliced open a fingertip, and his bright red blood began to coalesce into a giant eagle in front of him.
His opponent’s earlier action had proven that they were not of the same league; there was no need for him to stoop to engaging personally.
