The same Flow State, yet Blood-Red Whiskey Alfred was able to use his sword to sever another's blade, and Cortes could penetrate steel pillars with the marvelous Swift Sword. But Byron, the Storm Knight, possessed a lethality even greater.
Secret Sword Technique: Fingertip Spear!
Gathering force at the tip of one's finger, drawing on breath to connect the internal and external, and tapping into the specific frequency of an object, even a flexible graphite stick could easily penetrate steel.
Even without utilizing any Extraordinary Power, and wielding only a rusty chopper, one could kill a giant bear.
Byron looked at his hands. Only now did he truly feel that he was the one controlling the Extraordinary Power, not the other way around—a realization that grounded him.
Moreover, unlike others whose Flow State can only be applied to themselves, I should now be able to guide others to this transcendent state through my own breathing, helping Catherine and Bruh break through this barrier.
If I can advance further in the future and reach Divine Sight, the second layer of swordsmanship beyond Flow State, it would be almost equivalent to an acquired understanding of another form of the Breath of All Things. Furthermore, this progressive spiritual transformation feels far more reassuring than external factors like 'Entries,' the Promotion Ceremony, or forbidden knowledge. It's like the exhilarating feeling of breaking one's limits during physical training!
After truly reaching this step, Byron had a strong premonition. Perhaps this focus on the state of one's spirit, rather than seeking external aid, is the greatest reliance truly belonging to humanity.
With a thought, the Phantom Warhorse and the full set of Wild Hunt Knight armor dissipated automatically, and he drifted down to the temple floor like a falling leaf.
"Mr. Cortes, wake up; it's time to get to work."
He reached out towards Cortes's corpse, blue flames ignited, and he pulled out a dazed human figure in one swift motion.
Byron chose to preserve his consciousness. Blue flames, identical to Byron's, flared up in the Dead Soul's eyes, and it quickly regained its lucidity.
But Cortes, reborn as the Bizarre Wild Hunt Servant, had already transformed his hatred towards Byron into limitless loyalty.
Kneeling on one knee, he bowed deeply, "My master."
After this respectful salute, he automatically crawled into Byron's shadow.
Cortes wasn't like Beatrice, who had directly threatened Catherine's life. Strictly speaking, there was no personal vendetta between the two; it all boiled down to irreconcilable conflicts of interest between factions.
It's perfectly normal for the victor to emerge king and the vanquished to be the loser.
As for wanting to remove my Mad Hunt mask? Underneath this mask is Falcon Alvin. Under Alvin is Pirate General Bill. Under Bill is Sea Hunter Byron Tudor. And only beneath Tudor is Mad Hunt Byron Lancaster. Go look for them. What does any of that have to do with me? You could search for a lifetime and never find the real me.
It's just a pity. This Knight Commander of the Third Order wasn't like Falcon Alvin, whose body remained alive when I extracted his soul while he was comatose and then repossessed it. Cortes's body was already destroyed. With such a large hole in his chest, I can't mend it, nor do I have the power to resurrect the dead. I can only let him possess another person.
Even if he can't unleash the full strength of an original Third-Order Knight Commander, that irrevocable Flow State alone is enough to make him nearly invincible among the Second Order.
Even if he's not as versatile or useful as the Versatile Enchantress, he still compensates for some of my losses.
Byron not only acquired a new enforcer but also didn't forget to turn the bodies of the two Third-Order beings into top-notch Blood of Metamorphosis.
And perhaps due to the non-human factor, the Blood of Metamorphosis crafted from Beatrice was evidently of higher quality than that from an ordinary Third-Order being.
Byron glanced back at Beatrice and Cortes, nodding in satisfaction, "Good, good. Thank you for exhausting your last drop of blood, your last wisp of soul, to contribute to my cause."
As the battle finally settled, the ownership of the treasure locked by the Entry "Why did you engrave your name on my pipe?" was no longer debated, and the condition for possession was met. The condition was to inform the original owner of the item, then openly and forcibly take possession. Now that the original owner had vanished, the precondition for outright seizure was naturally met.
A brand new golden anchor chain instantaneously linked Byron with the Golden Code attached to his waist. His name also emerged on the title page of the Code.
With this, while Byron may have lost his own Kingdom of Hightens, by a bizarre twist of fate, he unwittingly became the legitimate heir to the Aztec Empire. Even though this nation, freshly renamed the Sacred Golden Empire, had already begun to collapse from its core.
He swiped his hand through the air, revealing a golden Law Network visible only to him, which then vanished again. Byron could feel the nodes of the law in reality disappearing one by one, and the Power of Law rapidly decaying. This indicated that the core citizens sustaining this law were dying en masse.
Byron had just reached the temple's entrance when he heard a chorus of anguished cries filled with deep-seated hatred outside the door, "People of Castilia, are you going back on your word? Why haven't you healed us yet?"
"Countless Aztecs are dying!"
"We have already submitted, given you all the gold, outsiders, why do you not keep your word?"
"Quickly take this disease from our bodies."
Many Aztecs in the Imperial City were directly infected by the concept of "Beak Doctors" or the Plague Aura, with the disease hitting them hard and fast. Whether Transcendent beings, nobles of high status, or the most humble slaves, all were equal in the face of death.
In their bid for survival, they not only kneeled in submission but also stripped off the gold they wore, piling up heap upon heap of treasures before the conquerors. In the end, they did not receive the promised cure and, in reality, they never would.
The city's entire population of two hundred fifty thousand was perishing; at every moment, countless people died, and the resentment in their final breaths almost took tangible form, blocking the sun in the sky.
Those natives in the Anti-Aztec Alliance were not doing much better. Even if they were initially far enough from the "Beak Doctors," the reach of the Plague Aura was sufficient to wipe out those with weaker resistance among them. It just took longer for the disease to manifest in them compared to the Aztecs, with most wailing for ten or twenty days before death took them.
This tragic scenario was worse than any bloody Blood Sacrifice ritual that came before.
Today, far too many people died in the Imperial City!
Even in broad daylight, one could hear the sobbing of the Undead.
In stark contrast to the plight of the natives, People of Castilia were rampantly looting gold throughout the city, protected by their own immunity from death. Particularly those Transcendent beings with their spiritual barriers, more effective than any protective suits, were completely unrestrained.
They were obviously well-prepared for the epidemic. Without waiting for Cortes and the Mad Hunt to determine the victor, they started to pilfer valuables with maps of the layout of noble residences in the city, their actions swift and resolute.
"This is an entire set of dining utensils made of gold, we're rich, we're rich!"
"There's clothing woven with gold threads here, and over there is a huge block of prime spices, the City of Gold truly lives up to its name."
"What's that compared to this? Look, there's a throne made entirely of gold in this palace. If we take it back and present it to His Majesty the King, he might grant us nobility in his joy, hahaha..."
Wails and laughter, the two contrasting demeanors of the conquered and conquerors, were both real and ironic.
It was not just the People of Castilia; other forces of varying size, prepared in advance, were eyeing the situation greedily, rushing over in their small boats from all directions.
When Byron stepped out of the temple, he was greeted by a scene of utter chaos.
The colonizers, stimulated by the countless gold, silver, and spices in the City of Gold, had long forgotten about Cortes the Conqueror. After all, whether his plans succeeded, or even whether he lived or died, it didn't stop others from making a fortune.
The Mad Hunt? So what? Could he really kill everyone by himself?
Besides, there are numerous Third-Order Transcendent beings from the major powers here. Even if I managed to achieve Flow State, I couldn't handle them all.
Seeing this, Byron Lancaster, who had lawfully inherited the Aztec Empire, darkened with anger, roaring in his heart, "Stop—! The Golden City now carries the name Lancaster, you damned robbers, put down all my gold!"
Although Cortes's ambition was thwarted, many People of Castilia and other forces remain unscathed. As long as they take the gold back, only Cortes and The Skinners' Church lose out. Everyone else will still feast. I like to reap the rewards, but I certainly don't like doing the hard work for others to benefit.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, his gaze returned to the Sailing Logbook.
"Secret: Cortes's Ambition, Influence 30"— once achieved, it would similarly change the entire world dynamic.
And upon reaching a 100% Decryption Rate, Byron would be able to summon a one-time Holy Relic related to the region and ethnicity from history.
The Aztecs fall, and others get full? Wishful thinking! You take from me, sooner or later you'll have to give it all back.
He reached out his hand, fished out a glittering Gold Coin from the air. Except the coin bore the figure of a grinning skull in its center.
And this was the Holy Relic—Azkek's Cursed Coin, infused with the hatred of all the Aztecs towards the colonizers!
With a flick of his fingertips, Byron made the cursed Gold Coin vanish into thin air.
And all the gold within the city became suddenly shrouded in gloom.