When the plot-skips players into the game world Chapter 1354 - 74: The Queen of the Night’s Aria (Part 2)

——Here, the so-called "Night Queen" refers to the Shadowy Celestial Marshal. It taphorically recounts the secrets of the Shadowy Celestial Marshal.

What it evokes is both the fire of love and the fire of revenge.

Accompanied by hatred and the determination for revenge, the power of the fla rises accordingly.

Clang!

Suddenly, a short sword burning with black flas, as dark as night, thrusts out from the void!

At the sa ti piercing through the illusion, Arsene appears out of thin air from the void!

However, Arsene ultimately lacks the capability of the Path of Adaptation.

He does not possess the rank of an assassin, and even though the Count of Orleans cannot detect his position, his ambush still fails.

The Count of Orleans instantly reacts—he clenches his right hand holding the cane into a fist, punches Arsene in the face. Using the counterforce, he swiftly retreats two steps, raises the cane to Arsene’s chest; then swings to behead!

Clang!

But Arsene raises the short sword Sarastro, which has transford into a black fla dagger, to block the cane.

He lifts his head, with black flas burning in his eyes.

At this mont, the pitch-black flas are already spreading up along the cane.

Arsene’s lips barely curve into a faint smile, while he continuously repeats: "Never again my daughter.

"Then you shall never again be my daughter—"

With each line sung, the flas in his dagger grow fiercer, and the flas on the ground rise higher.

Finally, the flas reach the Count of Orleans.

His pant legs, his right hand holding the cane, and the wrist singed by the raised sword’s flas.

Yet he does not feel the heat, but an abnormal chill—

...Is this... the Vandom Family’s Night Queen’s Fire?

The Count of Orleans frowns, an uncontrollable weariness and fatigue engulfing him.

Flas burn, requiring fuel. In the process, vast amounts of heat are released.

However, the Night Queen’s Fire is different—it directly extracts "the warmth of the human heart," turning it into the fire of revenge.

Those scorched by this fire won’t turn to ashes but will freeze into ice.

In the areas where the flas burn, his pant leg and hand have already ford a thin layer of black frost, looking as dull as obsidian.

His strength is steadily being consud by the flas... if the fight drags on, he might grow weaker.

It’s just a pity...

The Count of Orleans clearly realizes that these flas co from the power of the Path of Love.

It is a power imitated by the "opera" of the Path of Beauty!

As one dedicated to the Path of Devotion, Path of Beauty, and Path of Balance, Arsene cannot truly understand the profoundness of the Path of Love.

Yet, with the aid of the Box of Emptiness, the Count of Orleans almost reversed the understanding and controlled these flas!

This would typically be utterly impossible.

——Only with the Box of Emptiness can such an impossible feat be achieved!

Perhaps because he never wavered, appearing calm and collected, while Arsene seed to have exhausted himself, losing his aura... or perhaps because Arsene’s singing was so god-awful that it enraged or even awoke the Swan King.

But in any case, the black flas were gradually being controlled by the Count of Orleans. His numbed limbs were steadily regaining control.

He could swing the cane more effortlessly, fending off the increasingly weak attacks from Arsene.

He seed relaxed and composed, elegant and poised. anwhile, Arsene’s movents were slowing, his strength continuously leaking away.

Clang! Clang! Clatter!

Finally, the Count of Orleans shifted from defense to offense.

After blocking two successive attacks from Arsene, he suddenly lunged forward.

He vanished in an instant, only to reappear in the sa spot.

At the mont Arsene turned to defend, he delivered a fierce kick to Arsene’s chest.

As Arsene lost balance, he followed up, gripping the cane with both hands as if holding a rapier, placing it on his shoulder.

In a flash, he thrust forward!

The black fla-imbued cane thrusts towards the eyes, in the unbalanced Arsene barely blocks; retracting the cane, thrusting again at the throat, Arsene reluctantly sacrifices a decoy, allowing the Count of Orleans’ cane to pierce through the floating clothing in the air, as Arsene himself disappears.

At this mont, the Count of Orleans elegantly swings the cane, slashing downwards in the air.

——Just as the decoy-disappeared Arsene appeared again, his right arm holding the short sword was suddenly severed by a crimson invisible blade!

It was not aid at his landing spot.

Instead, the attack was launched before Arsene erged—accurately speaking, Arsene ran into it!

At the mont the short sword "left hand," the surrounding illusion twisted and dissipated. Leaning against the wall, Arsene clutched his shoulder, glaring intently at the Count of Orleans.

His right arm fell to the side—still gripping the short sword, while the black flas on the sword were rapidly dissipating. On the floor, ceiling, and walls, remnants of black flas quietly burned in the fire of revenge, condensing into layers of black ice.

"I know your tricks all too well, Arsene."

After launching an attack, the Count did not pursue imdiately.

Instead, he remained composed, verbally attacking his opponent, attempting to further amplify his "montum."

"Those little tricks of yours can only deceive those ignorant, brainless lower humans. To a noble Son of the Moon, they are utterly insignificant.

"How long do you think I’ve lived? Ten years? Decades? Or perhaps a century?"

The Count of Orleans feigned a sigh, smiling: "Everything you’ve experienced in your short life, I’ve seen long ago. What you can conceive, I can conceive too. The insights you’ve had in your life are nothing remarkable... they are rely things I discarded long ago.

"Stealing from the rich to give to the poor? Laughable. Even if the poor receive a ager gift, they’re still poor, right? And even if a wealthy person loses an heirloom, they remain wealthy.

"Trying to redistribute wealth all on your own—how laughable. You distrust the governnt, don’t trust parliant, and refuse to submit to the King. Do you think you are stronger than everyone?

"With your strength alone, can you surpass everyone? Haha, I wouldn’t have entertained such dreams even in my youth, Arsene.

"The dream is over."

He lifted the cane, pointing it at Arsene leaning against the wall.

With just a thought, he could pierce Arsene’s heart directly.

"What a pity, Arsene."

The false smile on the Count of Orleans’ face gradually faded, dissolving into nothingness.

His arrogant gaze was icy cold: "Why run? Isn’t life here good?

"Even if you don’t have the noble qualifications of a Son of the Moon, you could have beco a steward.

"Of course, of course... you’re soone important now. Chosen by that old geezer, made into his son-in-law, ridden on by his old daughter. Haha, splendid.

"I’ll tell you a story, Arsene. Do you know what happened after you escaped?

"You gave those blood slaves the illusion of freedom—if you could escape, they could too. If you could endure, so could they.

"Could they? They couldn’t."

The Count of Orleans said emphatically: "You made lose sixty-eight blood slaves. Along with countless wealth. All of this because you gave them the illusion that they could ’escape from here.’

"And in the end? Those who wanted to run couldn’t, those who ran couldn’t resist and returned, even betraying their comrades. Plotted against their friends.

"However, even those who returned, I did not forgive them—all were hanged, skinned, and quartered."

"You made a disgrace. A disgrace among the Sons of the Moon, Arsene."

"——Indeed."

Aiwass’s voice appeared silently behind him: "The dream is over."

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