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Chapter 365: The Lion-Slaying Assembly
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 15:05:00 +0000 UTCAntonio, a Rank 23 Mist Knight, shared a common alma mater with Charlot Mecklenburg, both having graduated from Sheffield University. However, unlike Charlot, Antonio followed the orthodox path of the Lady of the Black Moon’s legacy. This included mastering the Dark Breathing Technique, Black Moon Meditation, and even training in the arts of a Darkmoon Warlock. Upon advancing to the Saint rank, the two major inheritances of the Lady of the Black Moon merged, elevating him to the status of a Mist Knight.
It is said that only layers of mist can conceal the true form of the Lady of the Black Moon!
Antonio's combat techniques, derived from her legacy, had evolved recently as he adapted the Dragon Hammer for combat. Drawing inspiration from the Dark Spearmanship, he improvised a basic yet formidable staff technique. While the method was hastily devised, its power was undeniable.
Practicality was Antonio's principle. He did not seek to innovate a unique martial art but rather adapted spearmanship into a staff technique, ensuring it was compatible with his weapon. As such, much of it overlapped with Dark Spearmanship, with only minor adjustments for wielding a staff.
Facing the Lionheart King Amisfida, a Rank 23 Lionheart Berserker, Antonio wielded the Dragon Hammer with caution. His strike was like a mountain descending, its momentum oppressive. Roars of countless beasts resonated from the hammer’s surface, causing Amisfida's heart to pound. Hastily, Amisfida drew a colossal saber from his back to meet Antonio's Dragon Hammer.
From the sidelines, Charlot’s eyes gleamed as he exclaimed, “A high-tier Transcendent weapon!”
When hammer met saber, Antonio held nothing back. A crisp sound rang out as Amisfida’s massive blade shattered into dozens of fragments.
Amisfida was stunned. Antonio had only recently acquired the Dragon Hammer, yet he wielded it with such mastery, unleashing its full Saint-rank power. Losing his treasured weapon pained Amisfida deeply—after all, orcs were notoriously impoverished, and obtaining a Transcendent weapon was no small feat.
Forced to discard the shattered saber, Amisfida retrieved a Knight's Lance, a weapon looted from a slain human Saint. This time, he avoided brute force, opting for a precise and intricate spear technique to counter Antonio’s hammer.
The Dragon Hammer was imbued with the power of myriad beasts, capable of dissolving energy. Fighting an opponent wielding the Dragon Hammer required twice the effort. Any misstep or lapse in combat energy would result in a dreadful counterforce that eroded both weapon and body.
While Antonio fought, the other Saint ranks present joined the fray, swiftly encircling Amisfida.
Meanwhile, Red Hawk, having rescued her brother, watched the scene in stunned silence. Though she suspected there were other Saints among them, she hadn't anticipated that everyone present was of Saint rank.
She glanced at Charlot, who hadn’t joined the battle, and asked, “Why aren’t you fighting?”
Charlot scratched his head and replied sheepishly, “I’m just an ordinary Transcendent.”
Being a pragmatic warrior, Red Hawk handed her injured brother to Charlot. “Hold him for me. I’m going in!”
As Amisfida struggled to break free from the encirclement, reinforcements arrived in the form of the Black Dragon and Choudrou, two orc Saints. Overjoyed, Amisfida shouted, “Let’s join forces against them!”
The two orc Saints nodded and charged into the battle. However, as they passed Amisfida, their weapons turned against him, aiming for his sides. Despite their treachery, Amisfida’s quick reflexes saved him. With a powerful flex of his arms, he deflected their attacks.
At that moment, a gleaming sword light arced toward Amisfida’s inner thigh. Unable to evade in time, he watched helplessly as a magical rapier slashed a long gash, sending blood spraying.
The attacker was Leopardman Tumisan, a top-tier assassin renowned for his stealth and cunning. While Tumisan lacked prowess in direct combat, his ambushes were second to none.
Although the three orc Saints had never collaborated before, their coordination was seamless. Tumisan retreated immediately after landing his strike. Amisfida’s retaliatory outburst sent the Black Dragon and Choudrou reeling, but Antonio quickly stepped in, hammer in hand, to block Amisfida’s escape.
The Lionheart King found himself at a disadvantage. Injured and surrounded, his attempts to break free only led to further entrapment. The arrival of Red Hawk tipped the scales even more.
Charlot’s group now boasted a total of eleven Saint ranks. Antonio’s strength alone rivaled Amisfida’s, leaving the lion in a bitter struggle. The battle raged on for dozens of intense exchanges. Amisfida held his ground, but Charlot grew increasingly anxious.
Surrounded by tens of thousands of orcs, Charlot couldn’t rely on Red Cliff City’s strategic advantages. Burdened by the injured, his options were limited.
“I’m strong,” Charlot thought, “but this isn’t my territory.”
Frustrated by the Saints’ indifference, Charlot dared not call for reinforcements like Herolf or Choudrou. Summoning them would only make him a primary target.
Instead, Charlot pulled out a spatial artifact: a mirror. He used it to secure Red Hawk’s brother, freeing himself of the burden. Since mastering the Infinite Mirror World, Charlot carried this mirror for emergencies.
Unburdened, Charlot dove into the orc horde. Seizing armor, a helmet, and a pair of pants from fallen foes, he used the Beast God Transformation to morph into a Silverback Gorilla. Camouflaged among the orcs, he moved unnoticed.
Taking inspiration from a villain in an old wuxia novel, Charlot employed this disguise to vanish from the battlefield. While the orcs searched frantically for their enemies, Charlot joined them in feigned confusion. Occasionally, he looked skyward, where the battle above raged within a shroud of mist.
“The fight will last days,” Charlot thought grimly, recalling his previous battle with Choudrou.
As Charlot tapped into his Bloodfire Combat Energy, he was startled to discover its seamless adaptation to his new form. Though the Redback Bear’s Bear Strength had vanished, a new rune—one belonging to his Silverback Gorilla form—was beginning to coalesce.
“Fascinating,” Charlot mused. “When orcs transform into humans, their combat energy is sealed. But when they take the form of other orc tribes, the energy isn’t sealed but rather adjusted to fit the new form.”
Charlot’s thoughts turned to Tumisan. “That old Leopardman’s secrets run deep,” he realized.
Unlike Charlot, Tumisan had long understood this phenomenon. By switching forms, Tumisan could manipulate Bloodfire Combat Energy to create diverse battle strategies. This flexibility stemmed not from Tumisan’s ingenuity but from the Eternal and Illusory Dragon’s influence.
The Dragon God’s meticulous designs hinted at a grand scheme far beyond human comprehension.
As Charlot pondered this, the new rune in his body solidified: Diamond Body.
It could make the entire body of a Silverback Gorilla Choudrou as tough as steel, significantly boosting its strength.
While the power of a Silverback Gorilla couldn't rival that of the Bearmen and the augmentation brought by Steel Muscles and Iron Bones couldn't surpass Bear Strength, the Silverback Gorilla's reinforcement of its physical body gave it a combat advantage comparable to the Bearmen in actual battles.
Charlot Mecklenburg shifted his body slightly. His Bloodfire Combat Energy was still at the second rank, and his combat capability had not significantly improved since transforming into a Redback Bear Warrior. The main difference lay in his approach to battle. Both Silverback Gorillas and Bearmen relied on brute strength in combat, but the former was notably more agile.
Feigning a cursory search, Charlot slipped away from the Beastmen Warriors frantically scouring for enemies and began wandering through the Beastmen Camp.
In this operation against the lions, Charlot was not a main player. However, his involvement raised no objections from others.
This was Charlot’s current status—able to stand on equal footing even with Saints, though he was unwilling to rely solely on such "prestige" to maintain his position. He couldn't afford to be idle and needed to contribute in some tangible way.
Otherwise, as his usefulness waned, his standing would inevitably decline.
Charlot avoided crowded areas and, whenever encountering smaller groups of Beastmen—whether a dozen or a few dozen—he incapacitated them, then used the Mind Channel to send them to Red Cliff City.
After making a full circuit, he had already sent away hundreds of Beastmen. While insignificant compared to the hundreds of thousands of Beastmen residing in the camp, it was still a noteworthy accomplishment.
As Charlot wandered aimlessly, he came across a small camp that stood out from the others. This area housed Beastmen from various tribes, most of whom were physically disabled. The camp exuded a mournful atmosphere, and its residents appeared far more dejected than those in other camps.
Glancing around and seeing how isolated this camp was, Charlot’s opportunistic instincts were stirred. He reverted to his human form, unsheathed the Blood Rose, and moved like the wind. In an instant, he had killed six or seven individuals.
Panic erupted among the Beastmen, their cries echoing through the air. However, the entire Beastmen Camp was already filled with shouts as Saints clashed in the skies, and searches for "spies" continued throughout the camp. Consequently, the commotion in this small camp failed to draw attention.
Charlot’s swordsmanship, inherited from the Arsilo Family, was honed to a deadly precision through countless battles. His strikes were swift and ruthless, devoid of any unnecessary movements. Though a few skilled Beastmen were among the group, their disabilities had significantly weakened their combat abilities, leaving them powerless against Charlot.
Using the Swiftstep Technique ×10, Charlot darted through the camp, eliminating all the Beastmen he encountered. Only then did he notice a small straw hut constructed from tree branches. Inside, he found seven or eight corpses, piquing his curiosity.
The Beastmen were not averse to consuming their own, and under food shortages, they would even eat fallen comrades. Why were these seven or eight bodies left untouched, defying their customs?
Exiting the hut, Charlot examined the corpses. Although long dead, each of these Beastmen had a robust physique and an aura that was either commanding, sinister, profound, or savage. He quickly realized that these were no ordinary Beastmen; they were the fallen Saints who had perished in the Battle of Strasbourg.
These peerless warriors, who cultivated Bloodfire Combat Energy, had tempered their bodies to an indestructible state. Even in death, their bodies resisted decay.
What purpose could Amisfida have for preserving these Saint Saints’ bodies? Charlot considered whether he should take them, though he had no idea what use they could serve.
Suddenly, the Blood Vortex on his right hand trembled slightly, and a blood-red bracelet emerged—Blood Rhinoceros!
Julius Axel had gifted Charlot a Baron Blood Core, permitting him to use the Stellar Workshop to craft an extraordinary weapon, with all materials and costs covered by the royal family.
Charlot had seized this opportunity, replacing the Baron Blood Core with the Saint Blood Core given to him by Princess May Guillaume, allowing the Stellar Workshop to create a Saint Weapon. However, he had never been able to wield the Blood Rhinoceros due to his insufficient rank.
To his astonishment, the Blood Rhinoceros, imbued with a life of its own, began to "feed." It slithered like a serpent into one of the Saint Beastmen corpses. Moments later, the once-immortal body disintegrated into a pile of rotting black matter.
The Blood Rhinoceros then darted into another corpse. Shortly thereafter, the second body met the same fate, transforming into a heap of rich, fertile-looking compost.
Charlot watched in astonishment as the Blood Rhinoceros repeated this process, devouring all the corpses before remerging into his right arm as a streak of bloodlight.
Although Charlot could sense a change in the Blood Rhinoceros, he couldn’t discern its exact nature. This weapon, originally seized by Count Gallanord from a slain Saint Vampire, had been damaged during the battle. Unable to repair it, Stellar Workshop had re-forged it using the Saint Blood Core from the Dolien Family.
Despite Charlot’s efforts to infuse it with blood energy, the Blood Rhinoceros had always resisted activation. He never imagined it possessed such autonomy, capable of seeking sustenance on its own.
Charlot wasn’t bothered by the loss of these Saint Beastmen bodies. Uncertain of their utility, he saw no harm in feeding them to the Blood Rhinoceros. After all, the weapon belonged to him, and once he ascended to Saint Rank, it would inevitably become usable.
Testing further, Charlot found that even his 14th-Rank High Transcendent abilities failed to prompt any reaction from the Blood Rhinoceros.
After scouring the camp for valuables, Charlot found nothing noteworthy. The corpses of the Saint Beastmen had already been thoroughly scavenged by their peers, leaving nothing behind.
Charlot wandered through the Beastmen Camp once more when suddenly a figure plummeted from the sky. Fearing it was an ally, he hurried to investigate and found Leopardman Tumisan, grievously injured, with several broken ribs. Surrounded by Beastmen soldiers, he was spitting blood while preparing to fight.
Charlot intervened, scattering a dozen Beastmen Warriors and snatching the injured Leopardman. Using his Spatial Artifact, he hid Tumisan and disguised himself as a Werewolf.
Having several Werewolves in his arsenal, Charlot exploited their numbers to blend in, escaping detection by the pursuing Beastmen Soldiers.
In a secluded spot, Charlot retrieved the Spatial Artifact, where he saw Red Hawk’s younger brother treating Tumisan’s injuries. Despite his grievous wounds, Tumisan, a Saint, had already begun mending his bones, though the pain left him gasping for air.
From within the mirror, Charlot asked, “How is the fight above? How did you fall?”
Tumisan coughed and chuckled. “I created an opening for Antonio, allowing him to land a devastating blow on Amisfida. That old lion won’t last much longer.”
Charlot shook his head. “Even for Antonio’s sake, you didn’t have to go to such extremes!”
The old Leopardman gave a sheepish grin. “I overestimated my speed and failed to retreat in time. Amisfida countered with a strike to my chest!”
“I hadn’t expected the old lion to still be hiding his strength, mastering the Lions’ Tribe’s most enigmatic power—converting devoured enemies into strength.”
“Still, even with his hidden reserves, Amisfida won’t hold out much longer. The Eye of Fate has already begun taking effect.”
After a few more gasps, Tumisan grew visibly weaker, clearly bearing the brunt of Amisfida’s ferocious counterattack.
Charlot was also concerned. The fact that Tumisan had fallen with no other Saints to rescue him suggested that the battle above was far fiercer than expected. None could spare their attention to assist.
Of course, there was another possibility: the old Leopardman had deliberately disengaged, harboring some ulterior motive.
Perhaps Tumisan wasn’t as calculating, but the Eternal and Illusory Dragon was far from straightforward...
Charlot harbored little faith in any deities.
Meanwhile, high above, the battle had reached an unprecedented intensity. As Charlot suspected, the ten Saints were fully engaged, leaving no one free to intervene.
It wasn’t that the King of The Ten Thousand Lions was invincible, but rather that Amisfida was fighting with his life on the line. Layers upon layers of illusory shadows enveloped him, formed from the saint-rank opponents he had slain in his lifetime. If Charlot Mecklenburg were present, he would surely exclaim in shock, understanding why Amisfida preserved the corpses of those orc saint-rank warriors. The lion clan's secret art enabled him to assimilate the strength of devoured enemies.
Had Amisfida not held back and consumed all the saint-rank orc corpses, his current power would have been even greater. The King of The Ten Thousand Lions could have grown even more formidable.
Antonio, having repelled Amisfida during their last encounter, had already tested the lion’s limits. Their strengths were evenly matched. Confident in his newly acquired Dragon Hammer, Antonio believed he could defeat Amisfida, but such a battle would inevitably stretch on for days, possibly nights. For saint-rank warriors capable of flight and evasion, killing an opponent was far harder than merely defeating them. To ensure Amisfida could not escape, Antonio needed his companions to hold the old lion in place.
The opportunity seized by the Leopardman Tumisan moments ago allowed Antonio to strike decisively, driving his Dragon Hammer through Amisfida’s abdomen. Yet, despite the grievous wound, the lion roared unabashedly, calling for battle with reckless abandon. Amisfida, cornered by eleven saint-rank enemies, had long realized his fate: today was the day of his fall.
Amisfida drew a deep breath, deeply regretting his decision not to consume the saint-rank orc corpses while they were fresh. Had he done so, even if he perished today, he could have taken down at least three of his foes.
With his knight’s lance long broken, Amisfida had cycled through seven or eight weapons, all shattered by Antonio’s Dragon Hammer. But each destroyed weapon earned the lion king a brief respite. Now weaponless, Amisfida relied on his fists to fight fiercely in midair, his valor undiminished.
Grandma Saint Karen focused all her might on manipulating her Dreamcrafting arts, repeatedly trapping Amisfida in illusory worlds. Yet each time, the Lion King tore them apart, and each destruction caused a backlash against the elderly saint. While these retaliations were manageable, they gradually wore her down.
A seasoned housekeeper, Grandma Saint Karen was no temporary combatant like Golden Ram Herolf. Though a saint-rank, her primary role was lulling the children of the Bretagne family to sleep. She had seen battle but was far from a seasoned warrior. The notion of participating in such a siege against a top-tier saint-rank warrior was utterly foreign to her, let alone taking an active role.
She couldn’t help but grumble internally, “Annie really owes me for this! Once she’s married, I’m definitely not babysitting her children.”
Aside from Grandma Saint Karen, Sabastine, the female pirate, found herself in an equally troubling predicament. As a long-range archer, her magical feathered arrows were easily deflected by Amisfida’s Bloodfire Combat Energy. The Lion King’s robust combat energy rendered her attacks ineffective, leaving her contributions even less significant than Grandma Saint Karen’s.
The knights of the Bretagne family fared no better. They dared not face the Lion King’s wrath alone, relying instead on combined efforts with Sabastine to mitigate Antonio’s burden.
On the contrary, the saint-rank warriors Black Dragon, Golden Ram Herolf, and Silverback Gorilla Choudrou performed exceptionally. Each of them was a battle-hardened powerhouse. If faced individually, even Amisfida would struggle to kill them.
The saint-rank pirate Red Hawk, a mage like Sabastine, launched distant magical attacks against Amisfida, avoiding close combat due to her fragile constitution. Earlier, she had suspected that these enigmatic Fars Empire warriors were planning something major. But she never imagined they could gather ten saint-rank warriors, including orc saints, to kill the King of The Ten Thousand Lions!
Amisfida was a pinnacle saint-rank warrior, one Red Hawk would never dare provoke under normal circumstances.
Though Sabastine launched dozens of magical feathered arrows, she hesitated, glancing toward Leopardman Tumisan below. She and Tumisan, both subordinates of Menielman Soumet, were closely connected. Watching Amisfida roar and shatter Grandma Saint Karen’s Dreamcrafting realm while sending Black Dragon flying several kilometers, Sabastine gritted her teeth, resigning herself to continue fighting.
Antonio, observing Amisfida’s explosive strength and his ability to repel Black Dragon, Golden Ram Herolf, and Silverback Gorilla Choudrou, seized the moment. With a subtle shake of his Dragon Hammer, the weapon unleashed a beastly howl, cleaving through the air.
Amisfida summoned all his strength, repelling his strongest foes. Were it not for Antonio’s presence, he might have already escaped. However, he now had to confront this cunning and battle-hardened adversary head-on. Summoning his Bloodfire Combat Energy, Amisfida reached out to grab the Dragon Hammer barehanded.
Antonio’s grip tightened as the Dragon Hammer shifted, cloaked in mist. As a dual-trained saint-rank warrior of the Black Moon lineage, Antonio had nearly reached the expertise of his father, Earl Bretagne. His newly developed hammer technique was polished and intricate, finding a gap in Amisfida’s defense. The weapon pierced through the Lion King’s outstretched hand and struck his shoulder.
Though protected by Bloodfire Combat Energy, Amisfida could not withstand the blow, his shoulder shattered.
Amisfida, twice gravely wounded, faltered. Yet the Lion King, a masterful orc military commander, unleashed a deafening roar. A surge of power erupted from the orc camp, reinvigorating his strength and restoring him to peak condition.
Antonio paused, astonished. Among saint-rank knights, it was common for a commander to channel their knights’ power to enhance their own. Yet he had never seen orcs wield such a technique.
Amisfida had kept this ultimate ability hidden, hoping to overturn his predicament in one desperate move. Though his power surged, his chances of escaping diminished...
Charlot, unable to soar into the air to witness the battle, cursed his lack of saint-rank abilities. His Floating Blossoms artifact, gifted to Annie Mecklenburg, was too fragile for such a chaotic battlefield.
Charlot lamented silently, “If only I were a saint-rank warrior already.”
Despite reaching the fourteenth tier of High Transcendence, Charlot knew it would take at least three to five more years to reach the peak and advance to saint-rank status.
Resting briefly, Leopardman Tumisan shouted, “Charlot, release me! I must return to the fight!”
Charlot obliged, releasing Tumisan from the mirror. Red Hawk’s brother, eager to join the fray, also pleaded, “Let me go too! I can help!”
Charlot raised an eyebrow. “Are you saint-rank?”
“No, but you’re not saint-rank either—”
Charlot cut him off, uninterested in babysitting. Letting a child into such danger would risk Red Hawk’s wrath if he perished. Stowing the mirror, Charlot said to Tumisan, “In your condition, you’ll barely contribute. Take me up there instead—I want to see the battle.”
Tumisan hesitated for a moment. He knew his condition was indeed poor—forcing himself into battle might not contribute to the situation. He agreed, then ascended into the sky with Charlot Mecklenburg. Although his injuries were still severe, they did not affect the old Leopardman’s ability to fly. Even his speed remained nearly undiminished.
Charlot clung to the old Leopardman’s back as they soared into the skies. Activating the Eagle Eye technique, he barely managed to make out the battle below.
Under the combined assault of ten Saint rank fighters, Amisfida resembled a trapped beast, charging left and right, roaring furiously.
After observing for a moment, Charlot said, “Mr. Tumisan! You said the Curse of the Eye of Fate had taken effect, but I don’t see anything unusual.”
The old Leopardman replied, “Look at his back!”
Amisfida was darting around like lightning; his movements were too quick for his figure to be seen clearly.
Charlot fixed his gaze and watched carefully for a long time. Eventually, he caught a fleeting glimpse. The thick armor on the Lion King’s back was fractured in seven or eight places, and on his rear torso, a faint face could be discerned. The face bore a seven-to-eight tenths resemblance to Amisfida. But how could a face possibly grow on someone’s back?
Charlot was mildly startled and recalled a similar phenomenon from a piece of science fiction he once read. However, the Eye of Fate could not possibly be such a thing. He pondered silently, “What exactly is the so-called Eye of Fate?”
“It may be called the Eye of Fate, but I can be a hundred percent sure it has nothing to do with the Serpent of Fate.”
Charlot wasn’t certain why he was so sure, but after his two brief encounters with the righteous god, he could sense the god’s aura. In any case, it felt completely different from that of the Eye of Fate.
“Could it be that apart from the Serpent of Fate, another deity governs destiny?”
“Or perhaps the Serpent of Fate achieved its place among the Nine True Gods by slaying an evil god who once controlled fate?”
As a transmigrator, Charlot’s thoughts wandered wildly. He had little reverence for the gods and soon entertained a plethora of fanciful ideas.
Suddenly, Amisfida let out a horrific roar. Antonio had struck him again with his Dragon Hammer, breaking one of the Lion King’s legs. Amisfida plummeted from the skies.
Charlot’s eyes brightened slightly, and he called out, “Tumisan! Let’s go grab that lion leg!”
Tumisan thought the idea was absurd, but he dutifully descended. Using his extraordinary speed, the Leopardman swiftly grabbed the severed lion leg.
Charlot, who had long refrained from relying on vampiric abilities to enhance his strength, was tempted by the opportunity to condense a blood core. He figured a Saint-rank body was worth sampling. Just as he reached for the lion leg, the Blood Rhinoceros on his right arm emerged, coiling around the severed limb. Within moments, it drained the lion leg of its life essence and blood essence, leaving behind a worthless husk, which it casually discarded.
The Blood Rhinoceros was utterly satisfied after devouring a Saint-rank lion leg. It lazily retreated into Charlot’s right arm, curling back into its resting place within the Blood Vortex.
Charlot was left empty-handed, visibly stunned. He glanced at Amisfida, who was now visibly struggling against the Saint-rank fighters, and thought to himself, “There should still be a chance!”
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Grandma Saint Karen fully activated the Dreamcrafting Arts, giving Antonio another opening. Seizing the opportunity, Antonio swung his Dragon Hammer with precision, unleashing a strike that shattered several ribs on Amisfida’s side. Even from a distance, Charlot could hear the dull, bone-crushing sound.
Amisfida’s massive body was hurled several kilometers away, carving an arc before crashing to the ground.
Charlot urged Tumisan, “Quick, let’s go!”
Tumisan activated his technique and rushed to the impact site, only to find the ground erupting in debris—another fierce skirmish had broken out.
Amisfida seemed to have decided to conserve his battle energy. He refused to take flight again, instead charging recklessly across the ground like a madman. Other than Antonio, none of the other Saint-rank fighters dared to engage him head-on. Each feared the Lion King’s desperate retaliation, which could take them down with him.
By this stage of the battle, victory was nearly assured. No one wished to take unnecessary risks, so they all proceeded cautiously.
Charlot, still perched on Tumisan’s back, couldn’t help but remark, “This lion is incredibly fierce!”
Tumisan sighed. “If he weren’t this savage, how could he be called the King of The Ten Thousand Lions?”
“He was likely the one with the greatest chance of uniting the Orc Kingdom.”
“Yet no one would have imagined he’d agree to participate in the Human Empire’s war, only to be deceived by Byron vampires and lose the future of the orcs.”
“How many Saints, how many seeds of hope, how many budding talents did the orcs lose outside Strasbourg?”
Tumisan sighed again, his spirits visibly low.
Among the orcs, there were many violent brutes but also compassionate figures who sought to lead their people out of suffering. Some even adhered to the Fleshless Creed, studied human culture, and sent their best youths to institutions like Fars Empire’s academies. But all these efforts were obliterated by the orcs’ involvement in this war.
Whether the Fars-Ingrima Alliance triumphed or the Byron-Black Phoenix Coalition emerged victorious, neither would show mercy to the orcs.
With so many Saint-rank warriors dead, the orcs would have no strength left to resist the inevitable human reprisals.
Charlot guessed Tumisan’s thoughts and reassured the Leopardman, “Without Amisfida, it doesn’t mean the orcs have no future. You still have me! I will help the orcs escape their plight and integrate into human society until there’s no division between us.”
Tumisan’s expression grew grave. He believed Charlot, but he also knew such an endeavor was unprecedented. No one could predict the outcome.
A muffled sound drew their attention. Antonio had abandoned his Dragon Hammer and traded punches with Amisfida. The eldest son of the Bretagne family spat blood and retreated dozens of steps, while Amisfida stood firm, unyielding.
The other Saint-rank fighters did not intervene, forming a loose circle around the Lion King. Amisfida growled low, blood streaming from his seven orifices. Suddenly, his legs shattered into pieces, leaving his upper body kneeling as though in defeat.
Amisfida struggled desperately to stand again. Blood poured from his wounds, staining the ground. His claws scraped at the earth, but eventually, his strength failed. The King of The Ten Thousand Lions succumbed to his injuries, his body finally still.
Tumisan landed on the ground. Charlot dismounted and approached the Lion King’s battered body. He was struck by how the once-mighty frame, now grotesquely broken, had withstood so much.
Even as an enemy, Charlot couldn’t help but exclaim, “This lion was truly ferocious.”
Antonio sighed, “If not for this war, I would have dueled him one-on-one.”
The eldest son of the Bretagne family stowed his Dragon Hammer and said, “We should return to Strasbourg now. Annie will also come with me. There should be no more trouble in the Red Dragon Strait, and I’ll do my best to ensure you return soon.”
The group, exhilarated from the hard-fought victory over Amisfida, overlooked a chilling detail. The face on the Lion King’s back suddenly opened its eyes…
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