Your Highness, if you want to get rid of that tree, you must detonate its roots; otherwise, no matter how many times you remove the trunk and branches, it will grow back."
The strange way the leader of the "Hounds of Forge" addressed Klein drew Mosen's attention.
He couldn't understand why this seemingly more powerful demigod-level spirit realm creature would be so obsequious to a newly promoted demigod, even addressing him as "Your Highness."
In the extraordinary world, only angels and those of divine lineage are qualified to be called "Your Highness".
Could this unknown, immature demigod be the true creator... no, the offspring of the "mysterious god" who is said to have died long ago and left only a vague name in the fallen fourth era?
That is the future threat that must be eliminated...
This conjecture doesn't make logical sense, but believers in storms often don't need logic.
Mosen hid his heart, which resembled a full moon, under his wide robe. He had absorbed too much spiritual essence. In his twilight years, he had returned to his prime, less than an hour after turning thirty. This gift, as illusory as a mirage, would no longer be something he asked of his Lord.
As a warrior of the Lord of Storms, his followers, his shepherds, even if the power that helped him regain his youth did not come directly from his Lord, his consistent believer's mindset would lead him to attribute it all to the Lord.
Of course, before eliminating the suspected remnants of the "God of Mystery," he had one more enemy to kill.
"Blow it up from the roots?"
Fortunately, although his body was aging in reverse, the rationality and wisdom that Mosen had accumulated over the years did not disappear with the passing of time.
Klein's tentacles coiled impatiently, like a reptilian creature that had caught the scent of its prey and was ready to attack at any moment.
"We don't have enough experience, so we can only trust."
Even the arrogant Klein chose to believe.
Each of them, possessing different personalities and emotional traits, analyzed the weaknesses of the Tree of Flesh and Blood in their own way, hoping that their remaining spirituality could pry open the Tree of Flesh and Blood's tight defenses in a surprise attack and tear apart the demon guards surrounding that blasphemous creation.
Klein pondered for two seconds, and the act of patiently clarifying the situation was undoubtedly very difficult for him at the moment.
Just coordinating different aspects and reaching a consensus requires a great deal of effort.
"As you can see, I have little spirituality left, and I cannot unleash another hurricane that could completely limit its growth."
He chose to reveal some of the truth to the unfamiliar Archbishop of Storms.
"The storm's power isn't enough to completely destroy its trunk; at most, it will create a crack. We only have one chance."
Mosen considered Klein's proposal, automatically filtering out any parts that seemed disrespectful to the Lord of Storms, and had to admit that this was reality.
"It's neither realistic nor possible to call a halt to the negotiations between Yarn and Emilius Levitt right now."
"I don't expect to stop our war because of a single sentence," Klein thought for a moment. "I can spare a demigod, though."
Having said that, he ignored Mosen's opinion and, like a dictator, patted the head of the "Hound of Fugen" beside him and gave the order.
"Summon Taylor Franz, and you will take his place."
While the leader of the "Hounds of Fortune" holds a higher rank, and the "Ancient Scholar's" ability to summon historical projections can replicate angelic abilities in a short time, considering the pitifully weak attack methods of the "Diviner" path, the "Iron-Blooded Knight," who excels in direct combat, is still more cost-effective.
Furthermore, the shadows that the "Ancient Scholar" can summon are multiple. Even if the "Hound of Fugen" and Taylor Franz in the background switch places, a historical projection can still be left to assist Klein from afar.
The giant black dog never questioned its owner's decisions.
Just as it had come, it silently vanished into the cold mist behind it, leaving only a shadow from a certain point in the past as its guardian.
Before long, Taylor Franz, transformed into a flaming spear, charged at high speed. Even after the "Iron Knight" stopped charging, hot sparks remained on the hem and collar of his clothes.
He spoke through his actions, preparing himself to sacrifice himself.
In silence, the four demigods, without exchanging words, orderly chose their positions to maximize their effectiveness.
Klein raised his scepter high, and the thunder and storms that ruled the sky paused for a moment before erupting with unprecedented power.
The airflow miraculously stopped. Without the support of the atmosphere, even the most magnificent tornado could no longer roar. The forest of lightning filled the entire sky, and the dazzling silver-white light was faintly transitioning to an eerie purple and red. Threads of electricity that looked thin but were actually thick intertwined with each other, weaving a dazzling rainbow ribbon that was scattered around the sphere rolling with plasma.
The "ink" was poured onto the turbulent sea, polluting its purity and staining it with a deep black.
The dark aura spread rapidly, and an unimaginably large vortex appeared around Blue Mountain Island, turning the entire island into the clutches of the ocean's fury.
These lightless streams of water rise from all directions, like mountains rising from the seabed, with endless black waves roaring down from their peaks.
The sea and thunder surrounded the flesh and blood tree standing in the middle of the island, threatening to split Blue Mountain Island in two and erase this blasphemous creation along with it.
Only Klein knew that the power contained in the lightning and tsunami was not as terrifying or unstoppable as it appeared. It was just a "paper tiger" he had painstakingly created, all special effects, just like the eerie tree below, which was merely a tentacle of divine power.
He did this to cover for the real assassin and to give his comrades a boost.
The tree canopy rustled as the flesh-and-blood tree looked up at the impending thunderstorm and the mountain of water. Though it was disdainful, it had to respond.
The will hidden beneath the tree-like shell easily saw through Klein's little scheme, but it also understood that once it truly lowered its guard, a truly destructive attack could be mixed into those empty shells of lightning at any moment, serving as the final blow to penetrate its weaknesses.
The Tree of Flesh and Blood emitted a sharp yet earth-shattering roar that humans could not comprehend. Its roots, which remained on the ground, throbbed and danced, drawing in the surrounding soil and scattered corpses. The massive growth caused it to become increasingly enormous, until its height was comparable to the mountains formed by the surrounding dark seawater.
The raging wind and rain howled and trembled as the two "power agents" confronted each other, the distorted sky becoming their canopy and hem, swaying and undulating with their hostility.
Seeing the approaching threat and the ever-growing Tree of Flesh and Blood unwilling to give up, Klein slightly lowered his right hand, which was holding the scepter.
A sudden burst of lightning, accompanied by a deafening explosion, pierced the entire sky. The tsunami converged into one, charging towards the tree trunks, and the shadows that blotted out the sun almost covered the entire Blue Mountain Island.
The feast of water and thunder benefited Mosen.
The "Calamity Priest" weaves through swarms of demons, using exceptional mobility to evade their curses and sulfurous flames.
Every bolt of lightning summoned by Klein becomes a source of power for him. He draws a portion from friendly attacks of similar nature to strengthen himself. Lightning is his claws and wind blades are his beaks.
He was like an eagle driving a flock of geese, hunting wantonly, determined to exterminate all creatures weaker than himself.
The projection of the leader of the "Hounds of Fugen" faded from the chaotic battlefield long ago.
It lay deep within the mists of history, its burning eyes following its master's figure, its enormous claws scrambling across the ruins before it, drawing abstract characters in the sand and gravel.
Finally, it erased all the abstract symbols, hesitated for a moment, and then wrote a name in ancient Hermetic script.
Then, it extended its front paws, detached the figure from the light-spot-like fragments that recorded another historical moment, and brought it into reality.
This process was repeated three or four times until the will that once appeared in history, and is still active in some corner of the world today, gave its approval, and the historical projection finally appeared in full.
Light blue butterflies fluttered about, and thousands of beautiful insects made of information streams huddled together, forming the man's face and his tall figure.
Taylor, who was charging straight toward the roots of the Tree of Flesh and Blood with his spear in hand, suddenly felt a surge of spiritual intuition.
He glanced to both sides out of the corner of his eye and saw the secret technique he longed for breaking through the barriers of reality, clearing away the tendril-like branches that were trying to obstruct him.
Edmund Jason looked down at the battlefield, his gaze lingering between the waves and the tree of flesh and blood. He never looked back, even though if he had just turned his head slightly, he could have seen the young man who made him hallucinate about his master.
He didn't want to come, if he didn't owe that "Hound of Fortune" a favor.
Back when He was just a minor demigod, His teacher, who had suffered from mental torment for years and was unable to teach Him personally, abandoned Him to Roman, and this "elder brother"...
"Ha..." Edmund laughed dismissively, his expression full of contempt.
This old man, in today's terms, is a "couch potato," preferring to disguise himself as an ordinary backpacker climbing mountains rather than sit down and explain ancient secrets to help him develop new "mystical reappearance" magic.
In the end, He himself approached the "Hounds of Fortune," who had always been disliked by their teacher, and in exchange for a promise, He obtained the wisdom and knowledge accumulated over the years by the monsters who roamed through history.
From this perspective, it's normal that He would have a good relationship with Avil, after all, they were both children who had no one to take care of them when they were young.
"Grimm".
Edmund Jason uttered a strange syllable, like someone's name.
A corner of a myth from an even more ancient era has come into reality.
It is said that in the time before the First Age, there was a god who ruled the far north. He summoned an army under this name and led the undead and heroic spirits to hunt the strange.
With the help of "mysterious reappearance," the ancient "Wild Hunt" has crawled out from the corners of history and returned to the world stage.
One after another, figures clad in simple armor and riding wolfhounds appeared around Taylor, charging towards the branches of the Tree of Flesh and Blood with spears in hand. They stood like an iron wall against the Tree of Flesh and Blood's defenses, leaving the most important trunk to the fearless "Iron-Blooded Knights."
With the help he received, Taylor was no longer afraid.
His body transformed into a flaming spear that ignited an even more intense orange-red, its tip emitting a blazing white light, before plunging headfirst into the base of the Tree of Flesh and Blood.
Klein's attack followed closely behind. The semi-out-of-control "trickster" was quick-witted and swift, waving his free hand to grasp a large number of spiritual threads from the aerial demons.
In just over ten seconds, they had gained initial control of the demon's body and were now attempting to turn the minions of the Tree of Flesh and Blood into cannon fodder for their own side at an even faster pace.
As the competition entered its crucial stage, Klein had long forgotten the threat of pollution.
He opened a second battlefield within his body, where the pollution from the "victims" and the pollution carried by the demons clashed. That high-ranking being, more mysterious than the "mysterious," who watched him with amusement and mockery, finally made its move, and the pollution from the "victims" gained the upper hand.
Klein's eyes darkened even more, momentarily suppressing the silvery-white of thunder and the faint red that symbolized desire.
The tsunami that had been unleashed earlier on Klein's orders was now tilting toward the Tree of Flesh and Blood, like a collapsing city wall.
The spear named Taylor Franz blasted a hole in the soil above the tree roots, and the shattered mountain peaks of the sea fell heavily, colliding with the tree trunk.
When the two forces converged, it was as if two worlds collided and exploded beneath Klein.
The storm lifted Klein, and the newly born "Trickster" didn't even wait for the support of the "Disaster High Priest" and the angelic projection, venturing alone into the chaos below.
Faced with absolute speed, even the generally fragile bodies of those who follow the "diviner" path become the most lethal weapon.
He listened to the deafening roar of the collapsing mountains and the shattering waves. Tentacles formed from illusory threads slapped away the fragments that splintered after the tree trunks exploded, assisting their master in carrying out the assassination.
Lightning was compressed into the bone-white scepter. Klein held this precious sealed artifact like a spear, upright in front of his chest, his hands tightly gripping his only weapon.
All that remained in his vision was the breach Taylor had created. Aiming at the tangled roots beneath the soil, he launched his final attack.
The tsunami floating in the sky was forcibly paused, and the tilted sky began to straighten, one end pointing upwards to block out the sun, and the other end pointing downwards, allowing all the creatures of the archipelago to witness the great feat created by the natural disaster.
The sky has fallen.
The immeasurable seawater disintegrated in mid-air, and warm rain fell gently, wetting the earth and people's heads.
On the scorched earth, the fire ignited by lightning burned fiercely, undeterred by the appearance of rain.
Covered in wounds, Klein stumbled out of the ditch, while Taylor Franz collapsed nearby, his amber eyes filled with smiles and encouragement.
Klein looked around blankly, a sense of unreality still filling his mind.
Different facets of his personality and emotions were still arguing, and two completely different kinds of pollution within him were still fighting. All he wanted to do at that moment was find a place to sit down and rest.
He wanted to find a place to hide so that when the natives of Rothschild realized the war was over and wanted to find a savior, at least they wouldn't push him onto the stage and cheer for him.
Having withstood multiple impacts, the disaster-stricken land is crumbling, and it is likely that in a little while, or even soon, this area will sink into the sea, carving an irreparable wound into Blue Mountain Island.
But all of this was irrelevant to Klein; he had no strength left.
He just wanted some peace and quiet...
Pfft.
Klein looked down, following the pain that was different from the tearing sensation in his brain, and watched as the invisible, transparent wind blade pierced through his left chest.
The murderer was looking down at him from above. The once ruddy-faced Mosen was aging rapidly, and wrinkles were growing rapidly, foreshadowing the end of his life.
After the battle, the Archbishop of Storms immediately fulfilled the vow he had made in his heart, a vow he had never spoken to anyone.
He solved a major problem, so he probably did justice to his Lord.
...
Click!
The earth beneath Klein's feet split open into an abyss, and the black emperor, along with his scepter, sank into the sea.
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