Such a thing, like a woman spoiled by countless men, is better left untouched.
Marcus, we are people who have reached the pinnacle of power, we are noble. Finish him off."
The other sergeants stood motionless, their gazes towards Marcus filled with a mocking desire, eager to see how Marcus would decide, as a way to compensate for their own deficiencies.
Marcus froze in place.
He had no choice but to carry out the command, just like in the end, everyone... had no choice but to die.
This was Zote’s power. Googlᴇ search novel⸺fire.net
His spirit was like a crumbling tower; even something that should not have taken any effort at all, like picking up a sword, felt like he was lifting something immensely heavy, his hand trembling incessantly.
His teacher just watched Marcus calmly, without speaking.
Marcus prayed inwardly, hoping someone would save him, drag him out of this desperate mire, oh heaven!
Finally, Marcus approached his former mentor, his mind a complete blank under the extreme terror.
His sword swing was too slow.
"This is not what you want, Marcus. This is not what you want."
After the old man spoke, he did not wait for Marcus to act, he stepped back, and leapt down on his own, shattering into pieces, merging with the burning corpses on the ground.
The rain poured down in torrents.
Marcus collapsed to the ground, powerless.
He was thoroughly defeated by the abyss.
Thirty-seven years later.
In a church within the Aran Imperial City.
The rumors were true; Zote, after eleven years of exile, had returned to Aran to join forces with Marcus and had resolved the mess in the industrial district of the Imperial City.
With crushing strength, he had obliterated all of the Royal Court’s influence in the industrial district and kidnapped Akasa’s confidant, Lagrange, making him a hostage, finally making the Royal Court compromise.
Both sides made concessions.
The Sect no longer interfered with anything in the industrial district, but the price was that the Sect would participate in the "Advancement Movement."
The Royal Court won face, the Sect won substance.
The recently established Eighteenth Formation of the Time Sword was led by none other than Zote, the former deputy head of the Witch Hunting Secret Department. Protected by the Eternal Sect, he would push forward, even establishing the Dragon Lord’s church to preach in the lands east of the Narrow Sea. Once that was accomplished,
To the pinnacle of power.
The nightmares of decades flooded into Marcus’s mind like a tide, dragging him back into the deepest and strongest abyss of old.
Perhaps due to this fear, even the grace of the Dragon Lord had diminished somewhat, and the hair of the younger Marcus began to turn white.
"I should have killed him back then, should have done it."
Marcus just sat under the stained glass, carving the stone with a force field, a statue of the Dragon Lord, and he had been at it for days and nights.
He should have killed Zote the first moment he saw him.
But he just couldn’t do it.
"Lord Chief Priest..."
Sharon had never seen such a man in despair.
At the train station of the Aran Imperial City.
Grand scenery in early summer, a clear sky, bright and cloudless.
The Eternal Sect now had its own train, bearing the Dragon Lord’s Emblem, which would carry the Eighteenth Formation of the Time Sword along the railway straight to the forefront of the construction.
Zote, wearing a dragon-headed helmet, asked his deputy for this operation.
"These people won’t talk, will they? Or what?"
Zote, newly arrived, was completely unfamiliar with many of the Sect’s rules. Behind him, a crowd of Time Sword members, these madmen, made him somewhat uncomfortable, out of his control.
"Some believers cut out their tongues at a young age, swearing to follow only the Dragon Lord’s will for life. Words... are no longer necessary."
The thing that he once scoffed at, he now felt some truth in.
Zote truly felt the boundless power and the infinite pain it inflicted.
"Truly... the supreme power."
Zote said no more and boarded the train heading for the Mulong Duchy.