activa-t End of Chapter 245
End of Chapter 245
End of Chapter 245
Cyril glanced at Steve, who looked weak and powerless, surrounded by four red, headless corpses, and shook his head silently in his heart.
What a waste of such a large Sequence 5 "Wraith" trait.
Then, guided by his spiritual intuition, he swung his greatsword horizontally, creating a whooshing sound as he slapped away a head that was lunging at him from behind.
He exhaled softly, his gaze sweeping warily over the other two heads that hovered around him, ready to attack at any moment.
Although he possesses the extraordinary abilities of the "Dawn Knight," he has not mastered the weapon-using skills of the "Weapon Master" nor the combat skills of the "Fighter," making this style of combat using melee weapons somewhat difficult for him.
The next second, the sound of something cutting through the air and the warning from my spiritual intuition sounded simultaneously.
A face with distorted features and a ferocious expression appeared in his field of vision, and then kept getting bigger.
when!
The flying head collided with the broad, thick sword that was lying horizontally, and he swept it away with the force of the impact.
At the same time, another head suddenly sprang out from behind him and bit down between his neck and shoulder.
The skull had grown extra, sharp, illusory teeth that were biting him hard, making it seem as if even his facial features were straining.
From where it was bitten, a scalding red liquid mixed with sparks of spiritual energy slid out.
Cyrion, bitten by the head, gradually turned charred, lost its thickness and weight, and became a tattered portrait.
Before the head, which was biting the drawing paper, could react, the spine hanging below it was grabbed by Cyril and swung around like a hammer.
Amidst the whooshing sound of air being cut, a dull thud suddenly rang out.
The head used as a "chain hammer" collided with another head that was lunging at Cyril, like two equally matched watermelons, deforming simultaneously and spilling a splash of scalding red and white.
After knocking away the attacking head once again, he slammed the "chain hammer" in his hand to the ground, and then thrust the silver greatsword straight down with one hand.
It smells amazing!
The sharp, sturdy greatsword pierced through the skull on the ground without any resistance.
Under the purifying power of the "Sword of Dawn," the pierced head died instantly, turning withered and charred, like a piece of charcoal.
"Great, merciful, and supreme Master, save me!"
"Your most loyal servant is about to be torn apart by these evil, disgusting monsters."
After the last living corpse was also dismembered by the headless bodies, Steve in the painting looked to Sirion for help, both panicked and pitiful.
Cyril shook his head speechlessly. This guy seemed to have forgotten that he was a magical object, and that power below the angel level couldn't destroy him at all.
...If the scroll itself weren't so fragile that it would deform at the slightest touch, this portable and lightweight magical item would be the most perfect shield for anyone below the level of an angel.
While mentally complaining, he snapped his fingers.
鸣~
A sudden gust of wind swept through the basement, blowing the scroll that had fallen to the ground away and landing in a corner.
Then, Cyril crouched down and plunged the "Sword of Dawn" into the ground in front of him, while a phantom book flipped through his eyes.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
As the incantation appeared, the silver greatsword in Sirion's hand silently disintegrated, turning into countless fragments of light like the dawn. These countless fragments formed a shimmering and violent hurricane that swept in all directions.
Whether it was a head with its spine attached or a headless corpse, everything was enveloped within it.
Cut by the dense, sharp, and holy light spots, they were reduced to fragments no larger than the palm of a hand, emitting wisps of reddish-black smoke before dissipating into charred dust.
After all the mutated monsters were eliminated, the sharp silver storm quickly dissipated, leaving only a faint glimmer of dawn.
After scanning the room and confirming that no one had left any paintings, Sirion waved his hand, and the scroll that had been blown to the corner by the wind flew into his hand on its own.
"My respected, great, and supreme master, you are truly amazing."
"Thanks to your rescue, your loyal servant Steve survived. I am willing to do this every day..."
Cyril frowned. "Be quiet."
In the painting, Steve nodded obediently: "Yes, Master."
At the entrance to the basement, Pierre, huddled in the corner, looked at Cyrien, who was walking towards him, with eager and admiring eyes. After confirming that there were no more monsters here, he jogged over to meet him.
"Brother Carter, were you using magic just now? The legendary magic that can defeat dragons!"
"And another thing, you said you were going to stay in Bansi Port for a while, was that to defeat the evil cultists hiding here?"
Cyril smiled, not noticing the sudden change in address, and then said seriously:
"Everything you saw tonight is a secret, you know?"
?
"I can only tell you after we leave Bansi Island, and even then, I can only tell you part of it, otherwise it might put you in danger."
Pierre's eyes widened, and he nodded earnestly with a mixture of curiosity and restraint:
"I see!"
Cyril smiled and patted him on the shoulder, without asking him what he had figured out.
After leading Pierre out of the basement, Cyril suddenly stopped, raised his right hand, and snapped his fingers.
boom!
A series of thunderous booms suddenly erupted.
After making the noise, he turned to look at Peel:
"Let's go, I'll take you back to the White Agate."
Pierre asked, "Don't we need to go to the police station?"
Cyril shook his head: "No need, just get on the ship. You can leave Bansi after dawn."
"If you go to the police station, you'll probably be detained for questioning, which will waste time and could be dangerous."
"The people who were with you earlier have clearly been captured and detained by cultists for some time. They have no money and are in poor health, so they cannot leave here immediately. Seeking protection from the local authorities is the best option."
"Oh." Pierre nodded, seemingly understanding.
On the deck of the White Agate at the dock.
Reunited with his family, Pierre threw himself into his mother's arms, his shoulders trembling slightly, and he let out a choked whimper.
His mother, a lady dressed in a noblewoman's clothes, had visibly red eyes. She held him tightly with one hand and gently patted his back with the other, trying to comfort him.
Elena quietly took her mother's arm and mimicked her movements by gently patting her younger brother's back.
On the other side of the deck, Sirion looked at Captain Ellan, whose expression was unusually solemn and who was so tense he seemed about to assume a fighting stance, and casually asked:
"Is their family missing a member?"
Following Cyrien's gaze, Ellan glanced at the Peel family huddled together on the other side of the deck. His furrowed brow relaxed slightly, and he replied:
"The first mate had already taken them to the police station, but Mr. Moore was worried and chose to stay in Bansie Harbor with his bodyguards to continue searching for Little Peel."
"I've already sent the crew to inform Mr. Moore and the others; they should be back soon."
After a slight pause, he couldn't resist asking out of curiosity:
"Where did you find Little Peel?"
Cyril crossed his arms, turned his head to look at the scattered lights of the harbor on the shore, and casually said:
"In the hands of a group of cultists who worship the 'weather god'."
Erlan immediately shook his head: "Impossible. Ever since the Church of Storms established its church here, the worship of the 'Weather God' has disappeared."
Instead of arguing with him about the topic, Sirion asked:
"You seemed surprised and somewhat frightened when you saw me just now?"
Before Erlan could figure out how to respond to this topic, he changed the subject:
"The White Agate will depart for Tiana tomorrow morning, right? How long will the voyage take?"
Airland: "About 3 to 4 days."
Cyril nodded slightly: "So, the Church of Storms will notice the anomaly here in three days and send reinforcements?"
Erlan remained silent.
Seeing this, Cyril smiled silently, then shrugged and turned to walk towards the row of armchairs fixed to the deck behind him.
Hermes, reclining in her armchair with a glass of red wine in her hand, smiled and nodded at him, gesturing to the seat next to her.
Cyril nodded happily, sat down next to him, and poured himself a glass of red wine.
A look of confusion suddenly flashed in Erlan's eyes on the other side of the Shen board.
He remembered that he seemed to be talking to someone, but there was no one else around besides him, and he couldn't recall any content or details of the conversation.
Is this a delusion caused by excessive stress and mental exhaustion?
It seems I'll need to get some rest once I arrive in Bayam.