Chapter 170: Schlacht's Conspiracy
That overwhelming power made any number of enemies seem like insignificant ants.
In comparison, her own struggle just now, though it had played a part, seemed so minuscule.
After relaxing, a deep sense of fatigue also emerged. Her magic was indeed running low.
She no longer insisted, nodding obediently, but her curious gaze involuntarily turned back to Teacher Kurtz beside her.
Teacher Kurtz stood quietly there, his gaze following the small figure on the battlefield, his face showing an emotion that Flamme couldn't understand.
She recalled the pure white light on Teacher Kurtz's fingertips just now.
That pure and powerful strength was on par with Teacher Serie.
'A Godslayer—' This almost absurd thought once again uncontrollably surfaced in her mind.
This time, it was no longer a vague guess, but a jolt of strong intuition.
Only an existence from legends, one who ended the mythical era, could possess such power that transcended mortal comprehension, right?
Her heart pounded violently again, not from fear, but from the excitement and disbelief of glimpsing an astonishing secret.
If Teacher Kurtz truly was that legendary existence…
Then what kind of story would be the bond between him and Teacher Serie, a bond that spanned a long time?
She was truly very curious.
In a hidden cave far from the Bai Fortress's main battlefield, in the deepest part of the shadows, a tall figure stood silently.
It was Schalcht.
Through magic, he could faintly see the small figure in the distance.
Even if he couldn't see clearly, he knew that this figure was Serie, the world's strongest mage.
Every time she cast a spell, it was accompanied by the complete annihilation of large numbers of monsters.
That overwhelming power, even from a great distance, made him feel a trace of instinctive tremor.
The last time, he had used foresight magic to contend with her temporarily, but as time passed, Serie would inevitably find his weakness.
And then, only death would await him.
Not to mention that other person.
The giant horn on his head had a diagonal break near its base, with a rough cross-section, as if it had been forcibly cut off.
And that was indeed the case.
That man, the one Serie had trained, the man wielding the Holy Sword, not only cut off his horn with a single strike but also left a penetrating scar on his chest.
Even after a long two hundred years, the wound still ached faintly, as if reminding him of the crushing defeat that had almost completely ended him.
The man's face, merely a fleeting thought, was enough to stir up immense hatred and bone-deep fear within Shulahat.
To avoid this man, and to eliminate the sacred power remaining in that sword wound, he had spent a full century.
And the broken horn, unable to regenerate, became a lifelong disgrace for him.
However, thankfully, two hundred years had passed, and that human had long since died, so he no longer had to worry about encountering him.
"Hmph! Serie," Schlacht deep voice rang out, without a hint of surprise, "As expected, she came, exactly as the vision showed."
He had already seen through foresight magic that Serie would appear on this battlefield and crush his painstakingly gathered army into dust.
This was not an accident, but a calculated part of his plan.
"Kill, kill to your heart's content, Miss Ancient Mage." Shlacht's lips curled into a cold smile. "Use your power to turn these inferior beings into dust; this is exactly what I want to see."
He didn't care at all about the monsters constantly dying on the battlefield below.
Those monsters, even some powerful individuals among them, were merely expendable pawns, bait he used to stall for time and attract attention.
"As long as I can hold you back, as long as I can keep your attention on this insignificant dwarf city," Schlacht whispered, "then their sacrifice will be incredibly worthwhile."
"Heh heh, Serie, your human disciple, what astonishing magical talent he possessed, but unfortunately, too fragile!"
"How can a mere human with a hundred-year lifespan bear your long expectations?"
In Schlacht's time-based calculations, that human who had briefly shone by Serie's side, and might even have threatened the demon race, should have long since died of old age and vanished into the river of history.
This was the logical outcome. Humans, after all, were short-lived beings.
"You alone, Serie…" Schlacht's gaze refocused on the invincible figure on the battlefield, his eyes gleaming with unprecedented confidence. "You are indeed despairingly powerful, but no matter what, you are ultimately just one person!"
He had planned for long...too long.
Gathering a large army of monsters, even deliberately spreading the news of the monster army attacking this city, all of this was for one ultimate goal.
That was to firmly nail Serie, this Sword of Damocles hanging over the demon race, right here.
"Let your power be fully unleashed upon this scorched earth." Schlacht enjoyed this grand performance. "Little do you know, within the seemingly solid bulwarks of El Country, those foolish humans have already begun to fight amongst themselves, and the glory of the Holy Sword of faith will also be eroded."
He slowly raised his hand, and in his palm, a purple crystal emitting an ominous glow trembled continuously.
Inside the crystal, countless tiny magical runes were faintly visible, flowing and emitting a familiar magical fluctuation.
This was the killing move he had poured countless efforts into creating.
A plan sufficient to bring ultimate victory to the demon race, a killing move that utilized the contingency left to humans by the Godslayer from a thousand years ago.
"Serie, enjoy this battle to your heart's content; by the time you notice the anomaly in the west, it will be too late."
He no longer paid attention to the doomed battle below.
No matter how fierce Serie's magical storm was, it could not shake him in the slightest.
Losing some cannon fodder troops?
What did that matter!
As long as the plan succeeded, the entire El Country, and even the whole continent's landscape, would be rewritten by him!
Two hundred years of dormancy, two hundred years of pain, two hundred years of waiting, wasn't it all for this moment?
Shulahat secretly clenched his fist, and the dark purple crystal's light was completely obscured.
His tall figure retreated backward, merging deeper into the shadows, as if he had never existed.
Only that voice, full of absolute confidence, echoed in the air:
"This time—I fear nothing."
"Because you will ultimately be isolated and helpless."
"And His Majesty the Demon King shall reign!"
[End of Chapter]
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