Chapter 865: All of you must die
Orion raised his cup and clinked it with Leonidas’s. Then, he grabbed a still-warm beast leg from the table and, while tearing off a piece of roasted at, looked at Leonidas with a sideways smile.
“A lot? Bro, wait until you’ve been an Archlord for a few hundred years. You’ll have plenty of avatars too.”
“After all,” Leonidas said, and the way he said it, so casually, stripped the words of their negative weight, “everyone is afraid of death.”
“Hehe, bro, once you start losing your avatars to one accident after another, you’ll never feel like you have enough,” he continued, his tone turning wistful, filled with a bittersweet nostalgia.
He seed to be speaking not just to Orion, but to himself and Alexander as well.
“At that point, you’ll want to try making an avatar out of any race that shows even a little potential.”
Thinking of how Leonidas had recently self-destructed both his fire dragon and void dragon avatars, Orion suddenly felt that his own stable of avatars was far too small.
If he ever found himself in Leonidas’s situation, he would have no avatars left to use. His true body would be forced to run back and forth between the Valkorath Realm, the Titanion Realm, and the Erald Dream Realm.
The thought alone was frightening.
“Bro, as it happens, there’s a chance to get a new avatar right now. You want in?”
As Orion was lost in thought, Leonidas leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Orion looked at him, puzzled, then turned to look at Alexander.
Alexander just shrugged and took another drink.
“A chance to get a suitable avatar?”
That was a pointless question. If there was a real opportunity to get a suitable avatar, Orion would never pass it up.
“I don’t know about ‘suitable,’ but it will definitely be powerful. Like a Void Dragon, for example,” Leonidas said with a smug grin, the look of a fisherman who has just seen a fish take the bait.
“A Void Dragon? Bro, you’re going to get another dragon avatar? You have a way?”
When Leonidas ntioned the Void Dragon, connecting it with what he’d just said, Orion imdiately guessed a few things.
“Mm. I know of a large world that hides a Dragon’s Boneyard. And in that Boneyard are plenty of dead eggs.”
“Dead eggs?”
The more Leonidas spoke, the more confused Orion beca. By all logic, a dead egg could not possibly hatch a dragon.
“If we can steal these dead eggs, I have a secret technique to transform them into avatars, activating the eggs. And I can even bestow upon them an inherited legacy, allowing the avatar to have its own true na.”
A dragon with a true na was a true dragon. A dragon without one was rely a dragon beast.
Coming from Leonidas, Orion believed these words. Still, he glanced at Alexander for confirmation.
“That’s how Leonidas got his fire dragon and void dragon avatars,” Alexander said, his voice flat. “If our luck is good, we might even find a living egg in the Boneyard—the rarest kind of dragon egg, one that has undergone a transformation from death back to life in the heart of that necropolis. An egg like that is unique, even among the dragon race.”
That was it. Orion was completely convinced.
If soone as reserved as Alexander was interested in this Dragon’s Boneyard, Orion knew the venture was almost certainly legitimate.
He put down his roast at and his drink, threw an arm around Leonidas’s shoulders, and said with the utmost sincerity, “Bro, the happiness of the rest of your pupil’s life is in your hands!”
Leonidas chuckled, nodding as he shoved a piece of at into Orion’s mouth. “Don’t worry, bro. If I get to eat at, you’ll definitely get to drink the soup.”
“Bro, your pupil wants to eat at too.”
“Is that so? Well then, you’ll have to do more work. For example, can you handle a job like… picking up the soap?”
“I can start right now.”
“…”
With Leonidas, Orion could let himself go completely. This kind of raw, unfiltered enjoynt of life was a side of himself he could never show in the Stoneheart Horde, not in front of his won.
The palace echoed with the wild, unrestrained laughter of Orion and Leonidas, a picture of perfect harmony.
“Then it’s settled. Get yourself ready. We leave in seven days.”
“No problem.”
In the Titanion Realm, within the human kingdom.
Once again, at Orio’s Cabin in the Aisenna Forest. Once again, on a pitch-black night.
Ever since Henrik of the Holy Sword rcenary Corps had been assassinated here, his Grand Duke patron had been furious. A high bounty had been issued for the killer.
Furthermore, this new caravan, escorted by Mateo of the Golden Apple Chamber of Comrce, was itself a lure, ant to draw the enemy out.
However, the guards from the Golden Apple and the accompanying rcenaries could never have imagined that their enemies were the ragged, discarded puppets scattered all around Orio’s Cabin.
The enemy was already in their camp.
It was a moonless, windy night—a night for killing.
Torin chose to make his move in the darkest hour, the mont just before the dawn. It was the ti when the guards on watch were most likely to be drowsy, the ti when the campfires were about to die out.
Crackle.
The last ember in the campfire extinguished. The cloud cover was thick, and a sudden, fierce wind swept through the camp.
A bone-deep chill filled the air, thick with a palpable killing intent. The silent camp was suddenly fraught with tension.
Three dark figures leaped from the shadows, swift and agile.
Mateo’s group from the Golden Apple, though they had been on alert, were caught completely off guard by the puppets’ attack.
“You’ve finally shown yourselves!” Mateo shouted, trying to stall for information. “Who are you people?”
But Torin gave him no chance. He and his two subordinates pressed the attack, their killing intent a palpable force.
Mateo was one of the two Alpha-level experts, along with Henrik, who had originally occupied Soaring Bird City.
Now, Torin was an Alpha-level expert himself, and he had the backing of a powerful patron from the Survivor’s Platform. With this power and foundation, how could he continue to tolerate Mateo, let alone let him live?
Now that he had the strength, Torin was more eager than ever to reclaim full control of Soaring Bird City.
Every ti he walked its streets, heard the citizens gossip about him, saw the lack of fear or respect in their eyes, he would suffer from sleepless nights, sotis bordering on madness.
“Die! All of you must die!!”
Controlling the puppet, Torin’s emotions and anger had reached their peak. Only slaughter could sate his hatred.
The tent flaps were slashed open.
Blood sprayed through the air.
When dawn arrived, the camp at Orio’s Cabin was a scene of carnage.
All that remained was a series of deep, chaotic footprints in the mud, and the dismbered bodies of n, scattered like broken dolls.
The wind had not stopped. It now carried the thick, cloying scent of blood.
The surrounding area was desolate, and only the embers in the fire pit still glowed, their faint light a final, desperate struggle in the darkness.
Reviews
All reviews (0)