NOVPUBChapter 844: Smoke and Blood
Somewhere in the Europa Continent.
Amidst the vast plains that seemed to stretch into the horizon, a tall, dark tower rose to the sky, piercing through the clouds.
The land surrounding it was barren, devoid of any life. It was as if the dark tower had sucked all the life and vitality from the earth around it.
At the topmost chamber of this tower, a shadowy figure sat on an obsidian throne. Cloaked in dark robes, the figure’s face remained concealed beneath its hood.
Yet, every now and then, two ominous green orbs flickered in the shadowed depths of the hood, revealing a hint of something watching from within.
The chamber was vast, spanning the entire floor. Its dark marble floor faintly gleamed beneath the dim lights filtering through the arched windows, while towering pillars supported its ceilings.
On one side, massive doors loomed, their imposing presence adding to the room’s grandeur. On the opposite side, an elevated platform held the shadowy figure on its obsidian throne.
The atmosphere was heavy with dignified authority, making the chamber feel more like a throne room than a simple space.
If one looked closely, they would see small particles of mana swirling around the obsidian throne, gradually being absorbed by the robed figure.
He was practicing mindfulness. The speed at which the mana gathered and was absorbed suggested that the individual was no ordinary Magus.
In fact… it was likely that he was the most powerful of them all.
Suddenly, the atmosphere within the throne room shifted. It was ominous and overbearing before, but now… now it felt cold, murderous, and…
Devilish!
The robed figure on the throne astutely noticed this. The pair of green orbs hidden in the shadows of his hood lit up with a blinding light.
It was only then that the figure’s face was illuminated. However, there wasn’t a face. No flesh. No muscles.
Only bones.
This was no ordinary being.
It was a lich. A being of undeath.
The Cult Leader of the diabolical Cult of Bones!
Realizing the change in the atmosphere, he stopped extracting mana from his surroundings. He understood immediately. This was the sign of the devil’s arrival. The very devil with whom he had forged a pact.
He rose to his feet and stepped down the elevated platform, making his way to the center of the throne room.
Then, he waited.
Several moments later, his shadow came to life. It rose from the ground, forming thick tendrils that slithered around the lich’s feet, coalescing before him.
Then, the shadows lifted into the air, shaping themselves into a face with barely recognizable features.
The only striking detail was a pair of horns jutting from the face’s forehead, unmistakably marking it as something otherworldly.
A moment of silence hung in the air as neither the lich nor the ghostly apparition of the devil spoke to one another.
The lich fixed his hollow gaze at the shadowy face in silence, the orbs of green light deep within his sockets flickering faintly.
Curiosity and caution wrestled within him. After all, the devil rarely communicated with him. He was a rare visitor, and their encounters were always laden with unspoken tension.
The last time he was here, he had cryptically told him of an ancient and powerful being casting its gaze upon Tron.
Now, the Cult Leader wondered what this visit would bring…
After what seemed like forever, the shadowy face of the devil revealed a smile. “How are the preparations coming along?” he asked.
The lich nodded. “Everything is fine.”
He paused for a moment, the green orbs inside his socket flashing with a peculiar light, “Why are you here?”
The smile on the devil’s shadowy face faded. “Everything… is not fine.”
The lich’s voice turned sharp. “What is the meaning of that? The seeds are about to fully mature. It is only a matter of time before the portals are formed.”
“Oh, I do not doubt you,” the shadowy face murmured. “But…”
His voice trailed off, turning darker, thick with sinister intent. “There’s a variable now… a presence you cannot afford to overlook. One that twists the threads of fate itself.”
The orbs of light inside the lich’s skull flashed with a peculiar light. “Did you see something?”
“Not I,” the shadowy face replied, its form barely shifting as he shook his head.
“But one of my subordinates performed a divination… and in the smoke and blood, a prophecy emerged, one that speaks of Tron.”
A prophecy that speaks of Tron? The lich mused solemnly.
What could be so urgent that he would reach out to me directly?
An ominous possibility crept into his mind, causing the lich’s heart—well, proverbial heart—to turn cold.
It can’t be… Did the divination foresee my failure?
Or perhaps…
He turned to look at the shadowy face, a flicker of unease emerging in his hollow gaze. With a measured gesture, he said. “What does this prophecy foretell?”
The devil’s mouth opened, and from its depths poured a voice laden with dread.
“The young Magus who walks the path you once did,
“When all hope is lost, and even when the world stands against him,
“He shall rise through sheer will, unbroken and fierce.
“He will claim a power darker than your own,
“Yet, one that binds you in ways unknown,
“A magic more ominous than your deathly flame,
“And from the ashes end your cursed name.”
After the devil spoke those words, he turned silent, intently observing the lich standing before him.
The Cult Leader, on the other hand, was utterly enraged. Without thinking twice about it, he could immediately tell just who the prophecy spoke about.
The green orbs in his skull flickered with a dangerous light as the image of a raven-haired youth, wearing a black pointy hat, appeared in his mind.
Adam Constantine!
“It seems you already know who it is,” said the shadowy face of the devil.
The lich silently nodded.
“Kill him this instant,” the devil hissed, his voice dripping with malice and bloodlust. “I will tolerate no failures.”
However, the lich resolutely refused. “No,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I still have use for him yet.”
Before the devil could retort, the lich pressed on, “Everything will unfold as planned. I guarantee it. But there is one more thing I require from you.”
The devil’s dark eyes burned with impatience. “What is it?”
“The Forgotten Rune,” the lick muttered, his tone cold and precise. “I need another.”
The devil deeply looked at the lich, carefully weighing his decision. After a long pause, he nodded.
A one-time-use Rank 4 Artifact was a trifle, insignificant when weighed against the tens of billions of souls he would eventually claim.
“Very well.” The devil nodded, his gaze cold and calculating.
Although he shared the prophecy with the lich, the devil withheld one crucial detail.
Despite his subordinate’s countless attempts, every effort to fully divine the identity and secrets of the young Magus the prophecy spoke of remained fruitless.
An enigma that even the devil could not unravel…
This prophecy should give you lots of hints about how the future unfolds. Anyways, another chapter incoming 😉
