Chapter 725 - 714: The Demon King Descends
Chapter 725: Chapter 714: The Demon King Descends
However, unlike Visarius, who possessed vast territories and whose figure could be seen in every major event of the Empire, Darean’s presence was so faint it was as if he did not exist at all.
He had only one residence, that ancient castle deep within the Shadow Forest, its walls perpetually wrapped in vines; he hardly developed any blood descendants, and his sole interest was rearing those giant bats whose wings could blot out the sky.
Unless the Emperor personally assigned him, he almost never took part in any affairs.
Within the Empire, he was long in a state of "unable to be found."
Now that the Empire was teetering in the storm, this forgotten Prince had finally made his move.
Only his spearhead was aimed at the Imperial Capital.
Darean, with the few blood descendants under his command, drove flocks of giant bats, breaking through two intercepting castles in succession, his blade pointed straight at the heart of the Empire.
It was only when Visarius, who had hastily redeployed troops, forcefully inserted himself in the way that Darean was blocked outside the region where Emperor Mortis was.
The night sky hung low, the moonlight shredded by the bat swarm into fragments that scattered in broken pieces across the open plain.
The two Princes faced each other from afar, separated by that trampled field of mud.
Visarius stood at the front of the formation, narrowing his eyes, his voice squeezing through his teeth: "Darean, what do you think you’re doing? Not lying peacefully in your forest, but coming out to attack His Majesty’s city... Lie in your coffin too long and your brain rots through as well, is that it?"
Across from him, Darean stood atop the head of the largest giant bat, his old gray-black robe snapping in the night wind.
He did not answer Visarius’s question, but instead coldly asked in return, "Visarius, what have you and Mortis been doing lately?"
"You should call him His Majesty." Visarius’s tone sank.
"Depends on the situation. He may no longer be fit to be my king."
Visarius’s face darkened, but he did not respond.
"Why won’t you answer me?" Darean took a step forward, the giant bat beneath his feet letting out a low hiss, "Afraid that once I learn the truth, I won’t stand on your side?"
"You... know everything?"
"Ha... hahahaha!" Darean’s laughter carried anger, the power of blood surging around him, startling the nearby bat swarms into restless agitation.
"All thanks to two friends from an Alien Race." He finally stopped laughing and lowered his head, his gaze like two rusted blades gouging into Visarius’s face. "Otherwise, I really would have been kept in the dark by you."
"The true master of the Empire is about to return! And you two thieves actually intend to shut the master out of his own door?" His voice rose, word by word, full of fury. "You two... truly have some nerve!"
Visarius’s expression went completely cold. He did not explain himself; he simply raised his hand slowly, fresh blood condensing into a weapon in his palm.
"So what? With this little number of blood descendants under your command, what do you think you can accomplish?"
Darean likewise drew his weapon. "Aren’t you forced to stay here anyway?"
A civil war within the Blood Race erupted then and there in the very belly of the Empire, between these two Princes who had lived for centuries.
...
At the same time, at the fortress outside the entrance to Dragon Cliff Dungeon, a black cloud drifted in from the horizon.
This was no ordinary rain cloud; it was too dark, and with every churn of the cloud mass, faint waves of Magic Power leaked out from within, making the Mages in the fortress unconsciously tighten their grip on their Magic Staffs.
The black cloud pressed closer inch by inch, like a wall without edges, slowly pushing over from the far side of the horizon.
The fortress’s several Magic Towers lit up simultaneously, runes climbing from the tower bases all the way to the tips, dragging streaks of light across the night.
The Mages atop the towers were already in position, Magic Staffs raised high, Magic Power condensing at their tips into one powerful spell after another.
Thunderbolts as thick as ancient tree trunks, massive Fireballs like a chain barrage, and spinning, howling hurricanes.
Under this multitude of attacks, the seemingly vast black cloud was forcibly churned apart, exploding with a violent boom, its inner "rain" pattering down.
A Demon Race soldier subconsciously reached out to wipe the "water" from his face—sticky?
He looked down at his palm. That wasn’t water, but some kind of translucent slime, stretching into long filaments between his fingers.
Before he could take a closer look, a limp red Slime dropped from the sky and landed squarely on his head.
The slime plastered over his eyes, blocked his nostrils, and burrowed into his mouth.
He clawed at it desperately, but his fingers slipped right through that slick mass, unable to get a grip on anything.
By the time he finally recovered from the sudden panic and held his breath, ready to use his Combat Techniques, he discovered he could no longer muster any strength.
[Neurotoxin]
Green ones, red ones—more Slimes were falling from the sky.
Some of the falling Slimes directly tangled with the soldiers in a writhing mass; others landed in open spaces where no one paid them any mind for the moment, so they followed their instincts and hopped toward the nearest target with the densest Magic Power—namely, the Mages and the Magic Towers.
The entire fortress plunged into chaos.
But this was only temporary.
The forces gathered here were the elite of the Empire, impeccable in both loyalty and strength, and among them were large numbers of Blood Guard.
A force like this was naturally not going to be defeated by a bunch of falling Slimes with an average Level of only Level 30.
In just a few minutes, the soldiers had already formed up throughout the fortress, assembling into formations to protect the Mages and systematically clearing out the Slimes littering the ground.
A few Slimes leapt toward Mortis, but before they could get close, they were pinched and popped with a light tap of the finger by the Enchanting Demon Mofulei behind him.
Mortis did not so much as glance at those Slimes, nor did he look at the soldiers under his command; instead, he gazed up into the sky.
There, a giant serpent formed from countless Slimes was coiling as it descended from the heavens, and within the serpent, a figure Mortis could never forget stood at its center.
"Demon King!"
Mortis stood up, fresh blood surging from his sleeves, lifting him into the air as well, until he was level with that figure.
The Emperor glared straight at the other, at that figure he had only been able to look up to three hundred years ago.
The other had finally appeared, but even Mortis himself was not clear what he felt at this moment.
Excitement? Fear? Envy? Longing?
Perhaps all of them. Yet, when he met the Demon King’s eyes—those eyes brimming with the radiance of Magic Power—just as three hundred years ago, he instinctively averted his gaze for an instant.
(To be continued, refresh in ten minutes)
Mortis stood up, fresh blood surging from his sleeves, lifting him into the air as well, until he was level with that figure.
The Emperor glared straight at the other, at that figure he had only been able to look up to three hundred years ago.
The other had finally appeared, but even Mortis himself was not clear what he felt at this moment.
Excitement? Fear? Envy? Longing?
Perhaps all of them. Yet, when he met the Demon King’s eyes—those eyes brimming with the radiance of Magic Power—just as three hundred years ago, he instinctively averted his gaze for an instant. When he met the Demon King’s eyes—those eyes brimming with the radiance of Magic Power—just as three hundred years ago, he instinctively averted his gaze for an instant.