She could divine the future and provide both healing and enhancent.
With her presence, the wounds on the Eighth Ancestor that were scorched by the light began to recover at an accelerated rate.
At the sa ti, the Magic Strength of Duke Rashar, the Third Ancestor, and the aura of power on Marquis Sorset, the Eighth Ancestor, both began to surge.
"..."
The Pope, his face unflinching behind the damaged mask, watched the three Blood Clan Ancestors surrounding him in the crimson Blood King Palace.
"How could such an event occur without ? I would also like to try if I could devour your power, My Lord."
Before the battle even started, another voice drifted out.
The blood mist condensed into Marquis Bainhardt, the Ninth Ancestor, dressed in an ivory silk shirt with a black velvet vest over it, his neckline adorned with an erald green tie.
His golden-brown curly hair loosely hung over his forehead, slightly obscuring those red eyes.
He smiled and nodded to the Saint Polante Pope, revealing a set of neat white teeth, respectful like a gentleman inviting a guest to take a seat.
Of course, there was only one thing he intended to do.
That was.
To send the Pope on his way.
Inside the Blood King Palace, sacred flas howled, the do gloomy, and the Blood Moon hung high.
The Blood Clan Ancestors looked towards the Pope.
The Pope stood alone, bathed in the pale red moonlight, still without uttering a word.
His eyes seed to be filled with resolute determination, his Magic Power rising to its pinnacle.
The thirty-year-long war had ended in peace, which was nothing but a false facade.
The Blood Clan would never repent, and the Honing Empire was already corrupted to its core.
The Blood Clan had always used retreat as advance, using the suffering people of the Honing Empire as a shield to deceive Saint Polante Pope, avoiding his invincible power for this lifeti, waiting for a human’s lifespan to run out to make their coback under the Blood Moon.
By then, they would beco more cautious, more vicious.
They wouldn’t allow any more dangerous human heroes to erge, nor let the Honing Empire attempt to save themselves again.
Having learned their lesson, they would beco stronger.
They aid to completely enslave humanity and destroy the Demon World.
The Pope finally understood the ssage Calila wanted to convey.
"Just the thought of you living one more second in this world, I simply·cannot·accept."
He spoke almost word by word, like a demon walking out of purgatory, heading towards the direction where Rashar, the Third Ancestor, was located.
He embraced the destiny that had descended upon the world.
And rembered the burden of one na after another.
Countless emotions ignited his heart until it rotted.
So abhorrent, so grotesque.
Fierce anger, burning his heart.
Amid the roar of Lankros.
Underneath Honing Capital Saint Terek, the Blood Moon fierce wind howled, the Divine Era great war was on the verge of re-ignition.
...
In the darkness, there was no light, no color.
Only heavy footsteps.
When visibility was restored, he had been brought to the top of St. Trick Cathedral.
He opened his weak eyes.
Looking afar, the once-thriving city had turned into ruins, collapsed buildings scattered with dry limbs and severed arms.
Whether old people, won, or children, their blood had long been drained or evaporated completely, the heavy scent of blood hitting him even from a distance.
It seed their battle from Blood Moon City had impacted the surface above, shaking many residents of Honing Capital Saint Terek.
These residents, as high-quality food, provided imdiate replenishnt for the Blood Clan.
After the great battle, the South Bank had beco a place of wild revelry for four vampires.
They had quickly replenished the losses from the previous battle.
Under the lighting of the blood-colored moonlight, a suffocating sense of absurdity and illusion enveloped the entire city.
"How do you feel about this beautiful scenery, my lord Pope?"
Duke Rashar, the Third Ancestor, holding the back of Saint Polante Pope’s neck, forced him to face the desolate land, asking him at his ear.
At that mont, Saint Polante Pope was left with only half a body, cut down to a helpless state by the victorious Rashar.
"..."
The Pope’s dim eyes had already lost their vitality.
His lips trembled slightly, unable to make a sound.
"We actually intentionally left so survivors."
Marquis rset wiped his mouth corner, smiling as he spoke to the Pope.
"Imagine, after your all-out battle, exposing your true demonic form, what effect would it have if seen by people?"
The Seventh Ancestor Helitier also asked him.
"Huo Ning Empire’s people, look!"
The Third Ancestor Rashar raised the Pope higher in his hands, as if to show him to the congregation under the Temple of the Moon Goddess.
"Who is to bla for today’s calamity, or rather, the calamities of these decades?"
As Duke Rashar’s words fell, each word was filled with a commanding authority.
Under this Blood Moon, he is the ruler of the night, and the wills of all humanity seem insignificant.
"..."
The Pope, half of his body still, hung his head with lifeless eyes, enduring Duke Rashar’s humiliation without any ans to retort.
[You have been defeated.]
[You are like a king who has lost everything.]
[Surrounded in Blood Moon City by Duke Rashar, the Third Ancestor; Marquess Helitier, the Seventh Ancestor; Marquis Sorset, the Eighth Ancestor; Marquis Bainhardt, the Ninth Ancestor; even though you possess capabilities to combat the Blood Clan, you remain powerless within the Blood King Palace.]
[People have seen through your demonic form.]
[Among the ruins, nurous survivors crawled out, terror-struck as they watched the defeated Radiant Demon.]
"Saint Polante Pope?" Stay updated with .Côm
"All peace was a lie."
"The glorious and bright Saint Polante Pope, was actually a demon!"
"He truly deserves death!!!"
[You hear the outraged voices of the people of Huo Ning Empire, their eyes wide open and full of fury.]
[You are the one of great sin and evil?]
[You failed those who sacrificed themselves for you.]
[You could not save the Theocracy and the Demon World.]
[Everything you did was in vain.]
"Ha ha ha, Lankros, you lost after all."
The Third Ancestor Rashar looked pityingly at the Pope in his hands, his face showing the smile of a victor.
Next up, the Huo Ning Empire and the Blood Clan took the moral high ground in the counterattack against the Holy Polante Theocracy.
The backbone of the Holy Polante Theocracy shattered, a crisis of trust began, and the outco of the war seed clear even before it started.
"Alright, it’s ti to send you on your way."
Rashar, as if he had had enough of playing, completely shattered the Pope’s body with magic, turning it into a mist of blood that he threw down from the Temple of the Moon Goddess,
"Thank you for being the clown in this brief farce during the grand Blood Moon era."
Rashar’s laughter was fully satisfied, as if telling Lankros that humans, this frail species, had always been nothing but toys to him, the Third Ancestor.
The Pope was shattered beyond recognition, even the last remnants of his silvery mask began to fade.
In the blink of an eye, a second passed, the world that was thrown down began to shatter.
He seed to hear a voice.
Telling him.
If wings can still flap, rember.
Those countless birds whose wings were scorched—
dispersing ashes, forever unrestful.
Bones turn to dust.
All the sacrifices are worthless.
Wasted.
The voices of those utterly devoured ca.
Sadness flickered in the darkness.
The Blood Moon illuminated the distant colonnades, lighting up blurred mories.
And the shadow of the Black Sun sank deeper into the swirling chaos, until resting.
[·Can·the·heart·be·at·peace?]
A few large characters, the voices of countless wronged souls, constantly echoed in his ears, pounding on the Black Sun’s heart and that chilled blood.
Yet they could never awaken the Pope, sleeping like a corpse.
...
...
...
Until who knows how long had passed.
Perhaps at the mont he had finally found true rest—
The Tyrant.
Opened his eyes.
Those fiercely green pupils, were they the sanction of wrath, or a blessing freeing the shackles?
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