"I regret it has co to this, Lord Wyvern," the young Hydral sighed softly. "I offered you a chance. I had hoped we could deal with Evora imdiately, but you've been consud by desire and ambition."
Wielding power amidst the sea of feasting flas consud hundreds or even thousands of tis more energy than normal. Otherwise, Ansel would have long since called upon Ravenna to unleash devastation. Why else would he need such intricate calculations?
The Duke of Wyvern's realization was correct—Ansel's initial plan was to lure him, or more precisely, to entice whichever Duke had been influenced by fate to harbor hostility towards him, into attempting an assassination. Ansel couldn't know exactly which Duke fate had chosen as its pawn, though he could make an educated guess. But this uncertainty didn't affect his plan.
He relied on the ideals he had continually instilled in the order-inclined extraordinary beings, as well as his on-the-spot display of unwavering pursuit of a new order, to draw them to his side.
Even outnumbered, Ansel's strength was sufficient to bridge the power gap, especially with the mad Evora wreaking havoc.
Once Evora and those who might stand against him were defeated or eliminated, he would then... perform a certain degree of "pruning" among his own allies, retaining only those most essential. Thus, his initial objective of "eliminating the vast majority of top-tier extraordinary beings" would be achieved.
However, Evora seed to possess so unforeseen protection, rendering her impossible to slay. More astonishingly, she had turned to him for salvation.
On the surface, this appeared to cause only minor perturbations to the plan, yet in truth... Ansel's stratagem had been utterly transford.
Now, in this infernal crucible, the Duke of Wyvern found himself unable to isolate Ansel, robbing him of the opportunity to orchestrate an imdiate, collaborative assault. Without divine aegis amidst the blood flas, their ethereal reserves would swiftly be depleted in such exorbitant expenditure.
What the Duke of Wyvern failed to comprehend was - how had they anticipated this?
Even if Ansel had foreseen an attempt on his life, how could he have possibly divined who would strike, and when?
The Duke of Wyvern, ever cautious, had deliberately gathered a faction to his side to create the illusion of unanimous support. In reality, others were dispersed, poised to launch a near-fatal offensive. Yet how could Ansel's allies… not only discern the nature of each impending attack but also mount such impeccable, targeted defenses?
...A traitor.
As this realization dawned upon the Duke of Wyvern, an azure-gold gem detonated behind him.
"Na...mo!"
His lacerated back rapidly regenerated, but Clent's fury could not be so easily quelled.
"Oh my, my apologies, Dear Clent."
Namo of Azuregold, now flickering behind Ansel, spread his hands in feigned regret. "I find I prefer... the rational order Lord Hydral envisions, rather than inheriting a realm governed by ignorant brutes such as… you."
He shook his head, sighing, "Amassing wealth aninglessly in a chaotic wasteland pales in comparison to reveling in the splendor of riches within a vibrant paradise. They are utterly incomparable."
From the outset, Namo of Azuregold, ever the rchant, had never considered aligning himself with Clent.
This Duke, truly enamored with wealth, desired the Empire's prosperity more than anyone. He also understood... Ansel, more than any other, could bring about such flourishing.
— For he was a monster.
In his discourse with Ansel, the Duke of Azuregold recognized the true nature of this aberration and was filled with reverence.
Namo cared not whether Ansel's deanor was genuine or facade; he only concerned himself with Ansel's capabilities. The answer was evidently affirmative.
Thus, without hesitation, he betrayed the Duke of Wyvern to Ansel, revealing who stood against him, allowing Ansel to prepare his defenses accordingly.
"You have lost, Clent," Ansel gazed at him with pity. "It is finished."
This conflict concluded in such an absurd manner.
Though preposterous and laughable, undoubtedly Hydral - who considered himself a villain and had committed countless unforgivable sins - now appeared in the eyes of those standing behind him as a paragon of virtue incarnate.
Moreover, it was through this very "righteousness" that he had turned the tables.
He resembled the hero from a bard's tale, always doing what was right, never failing to et others' expectations, cutting a swath through adversity. When facing the final demon lord, on the brink of defeat, warriors he had once aided and hermits moved by his convictions ca to his aid. Even the demon lord's own guards turned against their master.
The prayers of countless supporters beca his strength, and his victory... beca inevitable, the fulfillnt of everyone's hopes.
All of this seed to proclaim: The good deeds you have sown, whether intentional or not, shall ultimately bear fruit.
And now, this is your reward.
Ansel suddenly understood why people cherished tales of such kind and steadfast heroes, why the conventional was revered as the royal road.
For when such events unfold in one's own life, especially upon realizing that the root of this victory stemd not from calculation, but from all he had genuinely done over the past decade, Ansel... truly experienced a joy welling up from the depths of his heart.
Yet this elation quickly dissipated. He did not believe this to be a ti for rejoicing, and felt that... soone like him had no right to take pleasure in such matters.
What remained now was to deal with the aftermath.
The young Hydral looked towards Faust in the crowd, only to find Faust had been observing him, seemingly for quite so ti.
Ansel had initially planned to exploit Evora's madness to plunge both sides into a bloody conflict, allowing him to dispatch the vast majority of extraordinary beings with minimal effort.
But the current situation... was not unfavorable either.
For his side had gained an unexpected advantage as well.
The Duke of Wyvern suddenly felt a sharp pain in his brain.
Then, his pupils contracted violently, his body convulsing involuntarily.
"You—"
His gaze was not directed at Ansel, but at the figure concealed within the crowd... Faust.
Not only him, but all the extraordinary beings standing with the Duke of Wyvern, those nad by the Duke of Azuregold, exhibited similar symptoms.
So convulsed, others howled in madness, ceaselessly expending their power as if deranged. The most affected charged towards Ansel in a frenzy, only to be nonchalantly swatted aside by Hydral.
The extraordinary beings on Ansel's side, as well as those who remained neutral, were stunned by this turn of events. They knew soone had planned to move against Ansel, but were unaware that... Ansel had long since prepared a counterasure.
"Step back for now," Hydral said softly. "Those corrupted by the Abyss will remain in this frenzied state for several minutes."
"A few minutes... should suffice."
Ansel and the remaining extraordinary beings swiftly retreated. They cautiously examined the abyssal essence coating their bodies and the abyssal aura within, while simultaneously casting glances at Faust, whose countenance appeared strained.
This sudden madness was undoubtedly linked to Faust, but the question remained... How had he managed to corrupt over a dozen top-tier fifth-rank extraordinary beings without their knowledge?
Could there truly be an Abyss wielder as powerful as Hydral?
With mixed emotions, the remaining extraordinary beings watched as their inexplicably corrupted counterparts raged, recklessly expending their power.
Under these circumstances, it would indeed take only minutes for them to exhaust their ethereal reserves and be consud by the feasting flas, leaving not even ashes behind.
"A pity," Ansel shook his head, observing from afar. "We've lost at least half the power needed to slay Evora."
"You gave them chances, Lord Hydral," the Duke of Azuregold shrugged. "Two, in fact."
"We could attempt to guide them towards... Evora," Faust, his face occasionally marred by wisps of darkness, murmured. "Don't waste this opportunity."
"..." Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly. He had intended to suggest this himself, but to maintain his current image, it would have been inappropriate to voice such a coldly pragmatic idea. He had been contemplating how best to phrase it when "Faust" spoke on his behalf.
Faust's current dangerous persona was well-suited to making such statents. Within seconds, volunteers stepped forward to attempt this guidance, quickly succeeding.
The once-visible golden shackles had all but vanished, nearly imperceptible now. Yet when the guided, frenzied extraordinary beings launched their attacks, a slender, dark golden entity suddenly extended from the throne's backrest, instantly impaling them.
The corrupted being struggled frantically against the animate-like dark golden tendril, but in their Abyss-addled state, they only wasted ethereal energy, hastening their own demise. Their body seed to "adhere" to the dark golden appendage, as if being assimilated, before dissipating without a trace.
"What... is this?"
Pablo, a master alchemist, couldn't identify this bizarre creation. He muttered uncertainly, "This doesn't appear to be an alchemical construct... Is it sothing forged through secret thods during the Sky-Conquering Dynasty?"
"A throne capable of binding a Flafeast descendant... No, that's not a throne. It's a cage, a prison for confining Bloodfla descendants. Who could possibly create such a thing?"
A prison...
Ansel gazed at the unconscious Evora, observing her pitiful state - half skeleton, half flesh. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Is this truly a prison?
The last ti he saw Evora, she should have had more flas engulfing her, her condition even more wretched, and the purity of the feast fla should have been higher.
Now, the flas consuming Evora seed to be approaching a golden hue. Moreover, Evora's initial state should have been her entire being consud by Ephesande's flas!
Evora's condition was gradually improving, yet she still pleaded for his help.
"Perhaps, she's not being imprisoned," Ansel said softly.
"She's being... drained!"
Indeed, she was being drained!
This explained the seemingly endless blood flas - these weren't Evora's flas, but... Ephesande's!
Ephesande's flas that consud Evora would never extinguish, never cease, while this strange throne incessantly extracted the feasting fla from Evora's body. Through this cycle, after an unknown duration in the Realm Enigmas, it had accumulated a near-infinite quantity of feast fla, albeit diluted in strength!
This explained Evora's improving condition, from initially being completely consud to now having at least half of her body intact.
But Evora's plea for help indicated that this throne wasn't solving the problem of the Feasting fla consuming her, but rather causing her more trouble.
Without needing more information, Ansel had already guessed... what this trouble was.
The mysterious force that bestowed imperial qualities upon Suellen, and Evora being drained of sothing... Did that hysterical cry for help earlier need any further explanation?
If she wasn't rescued soon...
Evora Flafeast would beco nothing more than a useless husk.
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