School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start Chapter 151 -151-The Prelude to an Epic War Decree

Wopole didn’t dare to contradict, bowing his head even deeper.

The grand elder was a sage, the true ruler of this continent, not soone a re grandmaster could defy.

"What are you planning to do?" the grand elder continued to inquire.

Wopole glanced at Roger, gritting his teeth before asking, "Saint, did you really steal the Dragon Slaying Pillar?"

Roger nodded, his smile bright, "Indeed, I found the object quite intriguing and wanted to study it."

Boom— A thunderclap exploded in Wopole’s mind.

He had thought Roger might maintain so pretense, but he hadn’t expected such a shaless admission.

"Saint," Wopole’s face turned pale, "that is the dragons’ reverse scale.

They will spare no effort to trouble us."

Roger’s face grew serious, a rarity, as he stated, "Grandmaster Wopole, the divine might of the dragons is not as apparent nowadays.

Perhaps now is an opportune mont for us."

Wopole felt a sense of foreboding; he sensed Roger was about to say sothing that could turn the continent upside down.

Stepping out from behind the grand elder, Roger spoke gravely, "Recently, the Westro Fairyland to our west has repeatedly provoked our borders, leading to no less than a thousand ard conflicts.

Each ti, the angel race has shown restraint.

Our subjects under the dominion are weary of these provocations, and I have seen every petition to the ecclesiastical court."

Wopole murmured, "What does this have to do with the dragons?"

Roger, expressionless and emphatic, said, "Grandmaster Wopole, esteed as you are, having navigated Novalia for three thousand years, surely you understand the intricacies of the continent better than I. Do you not know why the Westro Fairyland seeks to wage war?"

Wopole sighed inwardly; of course, he understood.

When beings die naturally, "Spiricontam" energy dissipates, with the majority entering the natural laws, then transforming, circulating, and cycling anew as life is born, generating "Spiricontam" energy once more.

For deities to benefit from naturally dispersed "Spiricontam" energy is difficult and does not align with their developntal needs.

They can only continually instigate wars, so that beings die amidst intense emotional turmoil, allowing their "Spiricontam" energy to be preserved to the greatest extent and absorbed by the Dragon Slaying Pillar.

Indeed, one of the functions of the Dragon Slaying Pillar is to suppress the dragons’ bloodline; the other is to collect "Spiricontam" energy.

"Judging by the grandmaster’s expression, you must know," Roger approached Wopole, pacing in a circle, "The strength of the Westro Fairyland primarily cos from their ability to commune with deities, a privilege granted by the gods that we cannot grasp. Thus, we are weaker, always having to offer countless ’blood als’ to the deities. I’ve truly had enough of these days. The dragons have conveniently presented themselves, feeding the gods with dragons to satiate them, so our angel race can have so peace for a while."

"Getting involved with the deities isn’t sothing desirable. They’re all a bunch of vampires, consuming without leaving anything behind. Without the dragons to provide a balance, how could our angel race remain unscathed?"

Wopole’s brow furrowed deeply, "Even the dragons have the protection of the God of Dragons and can contest the deities. If the Westro Fairyland directly confronts us, the re thought of the outco is chilling."

Initially, Roger had his back to him, but now, turning around, his face was brimming with a smile: "Grandmaster Wopole, that’s why I’ve co."

"What?" Wopole looked up at Roger, puzzled.

Roger extended his hand, admiring his fingertips that looked as smooth as jade under the sunlight.

They appeared almost as beautiful as porcelain, "Do you know why we have co?"

"I don’t know," Wopole admitted, clearly confused.

"We’ve co to face the deities directly," Roger’s face lit up with a smile.

He had never wielded such imnse power before.

He even felt a bit ashad when he thought back to his boastful days in school. Now, he held real authority.

The millennia-long efforts of so interdiate races couldn’t compare to a single word of his.

The intangible power that twirled around his fingertips fascinated and intoxicated him.

"This..." Wopole was stunned, his expression turning solemn, "What did you see?"

With a smile stretching across his face, Roger raised his hands as if embracing the entire world, "I saw the Goddess of Fate opening the gates of destiny to . What I carry on my shoulders is not just the rise and fall of the angel race but the life and death of the entire continent. The deities, I will deal with them myself."

Wopole couldn’t bring himself to believe, subtly shaking his head as he said, "Saint, please be cautious. The Goddess of Fate is just one of those vampires."

"Shut up," Roger snapped coldly, loudly scolding Wopole.

Now a follower of the Goddess of Fate, he wouldn’t allow Wopole to speak such words.

Wopole’s face showed signs of embarrassnt; how could a master dare to rebuke a grandmaster?

He stole a glance at the grand elder, who was squinting slightly, seemingly feigning sleep.

"Saint, is this really what you want?" he asked, thoroughly disheartened.

With the grand elder showing no interest in intervening, he gave up any struggle.

Roger’s face once again squeezed into a smile, as if the previous scolding had been done by another personality controlling his body: "Grandmaster Wopole, initiate the Oracle Decree of Rupture."

"What?" Wopole’s eyes widened, as if he were petrified, standing frozen in place.

...

Barlo had been waiting for a long while, but chatting with Bilqis kept boredom at bay.

"He’s coming," Barlo suddenly said, spotting Wopole flying in from the distance, "His complexion looks troubled; he might have faced resistance. We’ll have to adapt our approach as the situation unfolds."

"Understood," responded Nidaam and Bilqis.

Wopole approached Barlo, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

"Is there sothing wrong with your eyes? Why the grimacing?"

Barlo, ever the straight shooter, believed in laying things out openly.

Wopole pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and said, "Barlo, starting today, my angel race will initiate the Oracle Decree of Rupture.

In ten days, the dragons and the angel race will..."

"...engage in a battle to the death, ceasing only upon death."

Barlo’s expression had already frozen upon hearing the Oracle Decree of Rupture.

When Wopole finished speaking, Barlo jumped up in shock, "Are you insane?"

Wopole, however, maintained a cold expression as he pulled out a token from his bosom.

The token was crafted from hard and precious tals, typically silver or black iron, ticulously polished and engraved, shimring with a chilling brilliance.

Its shape could be the traditional shield form or a more complex design, such as the spread wings of an angel or a broken wing symbolizing both the emblem of the angel race and the onset of rupture and war.

At the center of the token, a gemstone was embedded, its color deep and full of power, perhaps a dark blue sapphire or a blood-red ruby, symbolizing the majesty of the skies and the bloodshed of war.

The gemstone was surrounded by intricate runes or totems, symbols that might reference elents from ancient myths or represent the protection and power of specific deities.

The token’s edges were adorned with complex patterns, narrating epic tales of battles, sacrifices, and victories.

These patterns seed to tell stories of their own, including scenes of combat, sacrifice, and triumph.

The edges might also be engraved with inscriptions that record the history and legends of the angel race, as well as the dates of the declaration of war and the nas of the signatories.

Barlo stepped back, roaring, "Are you serious?"

The potency of the Oracle Decree of Rupture lies in its divine origin, a relic from ancient tis when deities created these items to encourage the fierce fighting spirit of tribes and clans.

Once the war decree is activated, the conflict between the tribes will be relentless, only ceasing if the decree is broken.

Otherwise, the two races involved in the decree are compelled to fight upon sight, endlessly.

This war decree is a divine ploy, designed to bind the warring sides completely, ensuring warriors continue to swing their weapons forward, even to their last drop of blood.

This item is an absolute taboo on the continent, with no one daring to invoke such a universally feared artifact.

Wopole, lips pursed, recited the words of war:

"Between the abyss of the cosmos, the concerto of light and darkness slowly marches to its finale.

The sky no longer promises sanctuary, the wings of angels no longer pristine.

Ancient covenants turn to dust and ash, forgotten by the winds.

The ti has co to unveil the prelude of fate, to declare the inevitable dawn of battle.

Let the bells of heaven toll in mourning, let the luminaries of brilliance fall from their pedestals.

Hereby, the Oracle Decree of Rupture is unsealed by my hand, the seven seals broken, the overture of calamity echoes through the heavens, the sound of the horn pierces the tranquil firmant.

Flas of war shall blaze across the sky, illuminating the lost glory and the cost of betrayal.

Listen! Is it the weeping of angels or the battle cry of warriors? Our paths diverge, our wings are broken, our halos extinguished.

The sacred mission crumbles to dust, only the Decree of Rupture heralds to all—the guardians of yesteryear, now sworn enemies.

So speaks the oracle, let those who claim to be emissaries of light tremble before the storm of wrath.

The divine will has shifted, their wings can no longer bear justice.

The Oracle Decree of Rupture burns like the scorching sun, pierces like biting ice, slicing through silence, igniting the flas of war.

Warriors, raise your weapons high, let us inscribe a new myth with iron and blood..."