Rough fingers brushed over the cold armor’s surface, the souls buried within its mottled palm lines seemed to awaken the murderous armor with the thoughts of a distant era’s owner.
"What is that sound!"
The adjutant suddenly felt a faint ringing in his ears, as if a momentary loss of consciousness was reconnected, perhaps just his illusion, like the wailing of a bottomless, deep pit that drew wind into a void, along with an invisible stream of air, pulling even the soul into its depths, into the dark place, from the precise joints of the armor,
"It’s the sound of the Netherworld. Have you ever heard of the Netherworld Stele? It was created by ancient emperors, killing so many that the Netherworld overflowed with souls, using it as a King’s Device to seal the souls of all gods and beings. And I once... seemed to have opened a trace of the Nether Gate within Aran’s realm, right within this... Ten Directions Great Destruction."
Zote donned the Arm Armor, the violent magic pattern circuits ignited like an engine, the sound of the Netherworld grew even clearer, like a winter howl, the invisible chill sent a shiver down the adjutant’s spine.
This long-lost strength...
He tried wielding the Nameless Giant Blade, a casual slash, the air-splitting sound so piercing as if the air currents dispersed on their own.
"The Pope’s directive is, at the latest by September 9th, that’s the absolute limit, the Dragon Corpse must be delivered to Aran Imperial City. Consider the transport time; after dismemberment, it’ll take at least three days to transport back to Mulong. As for the exact size of the Dragon’s Skull, if too large, it can’t reach the Imperial City in time, please inform the Pope, and finally... these forces are far from enough."
Zote knew well, this is an insurmountable gap between species, with a Flying Dragon’s wings flapping, how could he catch up, turning his gaze to the adjutant, then back at the three Evil Dragon Judges packing their gear.
The appearance of these three was far more humble than imagined, dressed only in cloth clothes, mouths twisted with peculiar black seals wrapped to the back of their heads.
Indicating these people had some higher insight.
"They were all Sound Emitters trained at Evgeny Peak, capable of speaking the language of dragons, the leader knows a word spirit magic greatly threatening to dragons, called Fallen Heaven."
The adjutant replied.
On the Western Continent, Dragon Calamities occasionally occur, although rare, they’re not uncommon when viewed over decades or centuries. Nearly every month, witnesses see Flying Dragons swoop down from the sky, yet pillaging treasure and territory destruction by dragons occurs only every seven or eight years on average.
Therefore, these Sound Emitters are actually rarer than the dragons themselves.
Zote was intrigued. Having met countless people in Old Aran, he’d never heard of such a rarity.
These people’s behavior didn’t seem like they belonged to a Sect. Find the newest release on novel-fire.net
But it was understandable, working for the Church Court, the Golden Dragon payments weren’t delayed, holding a title and collecting a salary without showing one’s face was quite splendid.
"It can strip a dragon of its flight ability, shattering its wings, causing it to plummet. Though only heard of, never seen firsthand."
Even the worldly-wise adjutant of the Church Court stared at these mute, cloth-mouthed figures with intense curiosity.
"Truly professional, then everything is ready."
Zote donned the full Magic Rune Armor, the gaps once cleaved by Cicero were simply mended by the Church Court, though a part of the circuit was damaged, the strength not what it was, still retained seven or eight tenths.
Finally, he wore the cold masked helmet; standing there, wielding the peculiar Nameless Giant Blade, he no longer seemed human, but like the Demon Lord of Annihilation Domain recorded in ancient texts.
"What time is it now..."
The adjutant was a bit perplexed.
Because the current situation wasn’t ideal, Santilla from Kelor Highlands had defected, and Heavy Priests were maneuvered there, but the role of the western line wasn’t significant. Uborio was holed up in Drifting City, with limited forces on the western line, only strategically garrisoning there.
As for the east, Crocodile Island was a tough nut to crack, and he stationed troops in Silver Moon City. The East Sea Desperados had the Dragon Control Technique, perhaps Far East Evil Skill, stubbornly pushing back to Silver Moon City.
Many Heavy Priests sent to the frontline occasionally had their limbs pierced by long-range sniper weapons of magic-guided braking from Silver Moon City, and the breath of two giant dragons even melted centimeters-thick steel plates into molten iron with the man inside.
Although the Pope’s personal order made the troops immensely large, it wasn’t clear where to start.
Zote knew the intricate situation, with multifaceted battles, intelligence reported that the navy stationed at Golden Palm Port was ready to pick a fight... total suppression was the only way.
"First seize Crocodile Island, then break Silver Moon City before further deliberation. With me here... nothing can stop us, set off immediately."
Enwrapped in armor, the single eye visible through the helmet crevices gleamed crimson, like a prison flame.
Not to mention mere city walls, even the Beima Giant Wall, to the second-in-command of Old Aran’s mightiest authority, was as if non-existent.
Never once did he take the Mulong natives and East Sea rabble seriously, the regular army being the real adversary. But considering the Sect and Royal Court shouldn’t clash head-on, otherwise the position of Cardinal would hang in the balance; Crocodile Island could only suffer insult, not death.
Holy Spirit Calendar 2690, August 27th.
In the trenches between Drifting City and Silver Moon City.
"Isn’t this a perfect setup for Zote? Just a bunch of middle-aged folks, barely a challenge to fight. After returning to the secret port of Londen City last year, with a major aerial strike, I made Marcus kneel hard. Doesn’t Celeste have a camera there too? Damn, you’re still into optical systems? Can’t even understand this, Chuan Che in Cloud Palace clicked some photos, dude was impressive, like a periscope, when the time comes, we’ll snap a picture with old Zote’s body for promo, what damn Giant Whale Guest, can they take photos this good? Pulitzer Prize level."
Rein smoked, but his organs had been replaced with magic-guided braking ones, where not even nicotine or nuclear radiation could get through, making smoking insipid.
Liszt slapped his thigh, not caring whether Rein knew what a periscope was, even a wise man may miss a detail, even an idiot may have a success. Rein happened to point out something true.
Without publication, who would damn know the big deeds we’ve done? Must document with photos, print and distribute for free to all major newspapers, a hefty advertisement.
Releasing the news on September 9th, along with Saleret’s news would garner prestige, putting pressure on the Emperor, making him indecisive.
The invisible benefits from taking down the Deputy Director from the Witch Hunting Secret Department might surpass accomplishing the Mulong task, the time will show who really aids Aran, making the Emperor weigh the consequences of striking us.
Furthermore, though Doringger is good, don’t overindulge, the merit of slaying the old East Sea overlord is significant.
But Zote... is a legendary figure, slaying him would make an unparalleled legend! This is fantastic, the grandmaster of the killing domain.
"Incredible, brother, has your brain been modified too?"
Liszt praised in amazement.
"Hey hey, someone who’s into optical systems yet can’t figure out a camera is the true imbecile!"
Rein planned to name his future memoirs, "Rebirth: I, the Assistant Low-intelligence Captain of Black Sail, Dominated the East Sea."
Liszt wasn’t bothered.
"Get someone back to Drifting City immediately, bring Celeste’s camera over, gotta make damn good shots. Everyone, please try to leave Zuo’s body intact, won’t be recognizable otherwise... seriously, can a glowworm’s light compare with the moon? Heh heh heh."
At this level now, Zuo’s nothing. If it were early in the year, even Lord Dor wouldn’t dare mess with me, what’s with the pretense?
"Classic villain speech, on the Dou Qi continent, Xiao Yan would blast you apart, begging you, can you not pop champagne mid-battle?"
Wolman truly had enough of these guys.