"How does it feel to step into demigod status?"
Zaratul placed his hands behind his back, studying Pompeii with keen interest.
"It's good. Really good."
Pompeii sat alone on the stone throne, his body occasionally glowing with a blazing white light, the invisible pressure spreading throughout the entire temple.
However, if one looked closely, it was clear that his current state could hardly be described as "perfect."
His body was covered in black scales, and his lower legs had transformed into tangled, slimy tentacles.
And his once handsome face now looked like something that would terrify the women who once adored him.
His face had turned a deep black-purple, resembling the head of an octopus.
His jaw had tendrils like a beard, and his eyes, a mix of crimson and gold, glowed like searchlights in the night, their twisted, maddened gaze sending chills down anyone's spine.
Looking down further, one could see Pompeii's condition. It was like a broken porcelain statue hastily pieced back together, covered in jagged, crisscrossing cracks.
Occasionally, white light would flash from the cracks, filled with a repressive and violent aura, like the forces of a thunderstorm or tsunami.
Zaratul quietly activated his spiritual vision, observing Pompeii's state.
The deep, shadowed colors surrounding his mind-body were notable, including deep red, resembling fresh blood, and ominous, dense black.
Both were indicators that Pompeii's mental state was far from ideal, dangerously close to "losing control."
As Zaratul continued observing, he saw that even the starry body and etheric body were surrounded by an aura of complete "chaos."
The Beyonder pathway system was different from other power systems. Without the protagonist's halo, rushing forward recklessly could lead to future disaster.
It's necessary to solidify the 'foundation' at each stage, otherwise, if one missteps even slightly or rushes forward in a reckless manner, the result will naturally be a fall into the abyss, uncontrollably spiraling into madness!
Clearly, Pompeii didn't understand the stakes involved.
Under deliberately designed conditions, he didn't wait for the potion to fully take effect, didn't know how to act the part, nor did he understand the risks of losing control.
Instead, he mindlessly pursued power.
Though he reached the 'demigod' level, in reality, he had laid the groundwork for a major disaster.
"Looks like Sequence Three is the limit," Zaratul muttered as he withdrew his gaze, sighing inwardly.
Even with a bit of hope, things ended up going awry.
Even after devouring the 'King of Oceans and Waters,' Pompeii's limit remained, at best, 'Sequence Three.'
Unless given a considerable amount of time to digest the potion within him, there was little hope for advancing to Sequence Two. Even if more potion was forced in, the resulting 'Beyonder Characteristics' would be tainted and still require finding a suitable host for further purification.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Zaratul quickly cleared his mind and turned to Pompeii. "Congratulations, Saint, you've advanced further and reached the demigod stage."
"Is this the mythical creature form?" Pompeii raised one hand, looking at his bloated, scale-covered palm, and then turned to Zaratul. "I feel like I can hear 'His' voice now. Is that normal?"
"It's fine. This is a common phenomenon, no need to worry," Zaratul replied with a calm smile.
"But one thing to note: although the mythical creature form can enhance combat power, it's best not to maintain it for too long. It will put a heavy burden on you."
He said this not out of concern, but purely to avoid letting this 'pawn' be wasted too soon.
After all, quite a lot of resources had been invested in cultivating Pompeii.
"Is that so? I don't think it's a problem," Pompeii grinned, showing an indifferent expression. He really liked his current form—the sensation of power was addictive.
However, coupled with his current appearance, it was a bit terrifying.
"I'm just suggesting it. Whether you listen or not is up to you," Zaratul said, his face unchanged, voice indifferent.
"Zaratul, I'm curious. Who do you think is stronger now, you or me?"
Affected by the 'Tyrant Pathway,' Pompeii became extremely agitated and aggressive. His half-closed eyes seemed to provoke Zaratul.
In the hall, a heavy atmosphere filled the air, with flashes of white light leaping and rumbling like thunder.
"You can try," Zaratul said with a smile, completely unfazed by Pompeii's provocation.
Those who walk the Tyrant Path are often irritable and can't tell the difference between joking and mocking. Once their anger erupts, they can completely ignore the bigger picture.
That's why, in the book, most readers call him the 'Angry Brother'—and it's a name that truly fits.
"Heh."
Pompeii's fighting spirit ignited, his pupils filled with the white light.
An invisible pressure spread through the hall like a tsunami. Every stone, every pillar, even the particles in the air seemed to tremble, giving off a mournful cry.
Violent winds rapidly swirled through the hall, creating friction with the ions in the air.
Zzzzt—Zzzzt—!
A visible storm of fear spiraled, mixing with violent lightning, and anything caught in its path was instantly obliterated.
Zaratul grinned.
The sky cleared, the rain stopped, and now you think you're tough?
Suddenly, he took a step forward and raised his hand, slapping out.
Bang!
The tornado that had just formed was shattered by the slap.
Then, Zaratul turned and slapped back toward Pompeii.
Mind lash!
Mind lash!
Mind lash!
Although it looked like a slap, in reality, he had directly formed dozens of spiritual whips, mercilessly striking at Pompeii's astral body.
Pain!
Excruciating pain!
This was Pompeii's first reaction, a searing pain from the depths of his soul, the sting almost making him scream in agony.
Pompeii instantly reverted from his mythical creature form back to his original state, his face twisted in agony, blood vessels bulging, and visible sweat beads rolling down his face.
But he still gritted his teeth, desperately holding back a scream.
After all, it would be too embarrassing!
Pompeii gasped for air, his eyes looking at Zaratul with a trace of fear.
Heh, dealing with this level of opponent was so easy.
Zaratul sneered inwardly but maintained a calm, expressionless face. He said lightly, "Looks like I'm still a bit stronger. Saint, you'll need to try harder."
The ancient, stubborn Pompeii was filled with rage, but the remaining sliver of his spiritual intelligence restrained his urge to fight back.
He gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at the calm old man as though he wanted to swallow his anger, humiliation, and blood: "Zaratul is indeed powerful, hahaha."
"Enough testing, let's return to the main topic."
Zaratul stroked his beard calmly, his tone indifferent. "I've observed the stars, and I sense that the next day the Black Star rises will be in three days."
"Where?"
Pompeii immediately grew excited, as if he had regained his confidence.
To perform the summoning ritual, the right time, place, and offerings—three crucial elements—had to be present.
"Cassell."
Zaratul smiled faintly, a mysterious glint in his eyes.
"Cassell? Heh, that's exactly what I wanted!"
Pompeii gripped the armrest of his chair, his hand suddenly swelling with veins as he crushed it into dust, his eyes gleaming with fiery intensity.
"Perfect. Everything should begin where it started, and end where it began!"
********
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