noveltune Chapter 126 Night Raid
Chapter 126 Night Raid
Chapter 126 Night Raid
That night, Cyril and Klein unexpectedly met in the dock area.
Klein: "What brings you here?"
Cyril: "Just like you, curious, came to see what the fuss was about."
Klein: "...I'm not curious."
If it weren't for confirming Lanius's death, I wouldn't have come here at all. Getting involved in the mystical world might just lead to trouble.
Klein ultimately didn't voice his true feelings, because Cyril, who could escape through the mirror world at any time, seemed to genuinely have the ability to enjoy watching the drama unfold.
After a moment of silence, he raised his hand to adjust his baseball cap, then turned and walked towards the clock tower of the East Bayon Shipyard, not far away.
He noticed it when he came over in the afternoon; it was an excellent viewpoint.
Two minutes later, two blurry figures appeared on the top floor of the clock tower, above the huge wall clock.
The next second, the surrounding night suddenly deepened, and a dark curtain appeared out of thin air, gently covering the two of them and concealing their figures.
Klein reached out and touched the thin, almost non-existent "black veil" covering his body, then sighed:
"A very convenient capability."
Xireen gazed at the distant workers' association and said softly:
The "Master of Tricks" potion alone comes with over a dozen tricks, and with the additional tricks developed after mastering the skill, this sequence takes extravagance to the extreme.
"That sounds very strong," Klein commented sincerely.
Cyril shrugged. "If you think those fancy circus acts have any intensity."
F6
Klein fell silent, suddenly feeling a little worried about his next sequence.
As an adjacent pathway that can be interchanged in high sequences, and even with a name similar to "Master of Tricks," he felt he could already imagine his future as a "magician."
The two chatted idly on the clock tower for nearly half an hour.
Klein leaned against the wall, gazing at the crimson moon casting its thin moonlight through the thick clouds, and murmured:
"Luckily it's not summer, otherwise we'd be feeding the mosquitoes around here."
"Isn't the Church of the Night moving a little too slowly? This is a saint of the Aurora Society."
Sirion shook his head slightly: "The Saint of Mystery is different from other saints. He is a demigod of the 'Apprentice' path, who can come and go freely and also has the ability to 'guard secrets'. Ordinary surprise attacks have no effect on him."
After a brief pause, he looked up at the sky above the dockworkers' union building and said in a deep voice:
"They're here."
Klein immediately perked up and followed his gaze, but saw nothing.
The place was empty, with only the faint crimson moonlight shining down from above and rows of lifeless houses without a single light shining through.
Klein frowned slightly, then quietly activated his spiritual vision, but still found nothing.
No, this isn't right. It's impossible for a place where people gather to be completely devoid of any natural spirits, or to be completely devoid of any spiritual energy.
As he pondered, he heard Cyril's extremely slow voice beside him:
"Archbishop Saint Anthony of the Church of Saint Samuel has arrived. They have prepared a large-scale ritual magic in advance. Perhaps, at this very moment, the gaze of the Goddess of Night is also upon us."
Klein's heart skipped a beat... If the goddess cast her gaze upon me, would she be able to spot me?
Should I leave now? What if the goddess tells the church about my existence...?
Noticing that Klein seemed a little lost in thought, Sirion calmly reassured him:
"Gods and their churches are not the same. Even if they notice you, they won't care."
"How did you know what I was thinking?" Klein looked at Sirion with surprise and some wariness.
The latter shrugged: "Your emotions are written all over your face."
"Ugly," your performance just now was absolutely unacceptable.
E6
Klein opened his mouth, but was interrupted again before he could speak.
"The battle has begun."
He still couldn't see anything, but he felt that the darkness over there seemed to be a bit denser than before.
In the darkness, there seemed to be the sound of chanting poetry, peaceful and soothing, lulling him to sleep, making him feel as if he were receiving a spiritual redemption.
Cyril, on the other hand, behaved quite differently. He was not affected by the darkness at all, and stared intently ahead, looking very seriously.
His gaze traversed space, pierced through the darkness, and revealed the situation inside the dockworkers' association.
This is an ability belonging to "otherworldly travelers," which allows them to overcome barriers and glimpse the truth by leveraging the power of dimensions.
However, this reality is not what a normal person sees; it is closer to spiritual vision, where one sees the intertwining of spirituality and the essence of information.
Just like now, what he saw was actually a dark expanse like night, with crimson and flickering blue struggling to move within it, without any specific details of the battle.
The building housing the workers' union was enveloped in a wave of pure darkness, forming a realm of night.
Within this realm, all extraordinary beings are being corrupted by dark forces, either gradually losing their vitality or becoming plagued by misfortune.
Meanwhile, the ordinary people in the workers' association who lacked extraordinary power remained quietly asleep in their dreams, unaffected by corruption and unable to awaken from their slumber.
Wearing a black and red clergy robe, with five dark holy symbols on his chest, Saint Anthony, with a clean-shaven face and deep-set eyes, stood quietly at the entrance of the association, staring straight ahead.
Wherever he looked, the light suddenly disappeared, replaced by the deepest and most intense darkness.
Invisible threads extended from the darkness, nimbly winding around each of the extraordinary members of the Aurora Society within the building.
Anyone touched by them will instantly become cold, their thoughts will fall into a sluggish silence, like a cold corpse in a morgue, falling into a deep sleep in the darkness, and then gradually dying in that sleep.
Then several figures wearing long black trench coats and red gloves emerged from the darkness and rushed towards the second-floor staircase, where two figures remained conscious, fighting against the surging darkness around them.
The moment they approached the stairs, the tall figure bound by invisible threads suddenly turned his head, his deep brown eyes glaring at them with the ferocity of a wild beast.
At the same time, his right hand suddenly tightened.
boom! boom! boom!
One by one, the guild members who had been asleep in the surrounding rooms suddenly woke up.
Clumps of flesh and blood transformed into a storm that swept around, the thick, sticky flesh and blood covering the floor, walls, and the people in black trench coats, emitting a sizzling, corrosive sound.
In less than a second or two, everyone in the house, including the house itself, was completely corroded by the blood, leaving only deep darkness and a tall but thin figure standing in the darkness.
The tall figure, who was engrossed in his masterpiece, suddenly froze. He saw one illusory door after another appear around him, and then the deep, dark surroundings shattered silently.
Call ~
With rapid breathing, he suddenly regained consciousness.
Everything that just happened was just a dream!
Coming to his senses, just as he was about to detonate the flesh bombs he had planted inside the workers, a pair of deep, calm eyes suddenly appeared before him.
In an instant, his body and mind trembled involuntarily, uncontrollably and undisguisedly.
This even greatly affected his own condition; his flesh melted like a burning candle, flowing out a black, sticky liquid.
After confronting his deepest fears, he lost control!
Saint Anthony, dressed in a black and red clergy robe, stood calmly before the out-of-control mass of flesh and blood, reaching into the darkness to draw a longsword made of bone covered with strange patterns.
It is a gift from darkness, combining the power of sleep and fear, symbolizing the danger in the darkness, and the silent destruction and disappearance.
As the "Sword of Darkness" was gently swung, the surrounding darkness surged like a tide, instantly engulfing the out-of-control mass of flesh and blood, turning it into part of the dark tide.
After a brief pause, he changed direction and swung the "Dark Sword" in his hand again.
The surrounding darkness surged again, but was blocked by countless illusory gates, one after another, layer upon layer.
The figure of "The Saint of Mysteries," Butis, flickered continuously behind the "door," always maintaining an insurmountable distance from the attacks.
Like a ship adrift on the sea during a storm, it looks precarious but never capsizes.