Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End

Chapter 473.2: Tree Heart (2)

An explosion of intense light ensued.

Through the full channeling of the Kingdom Origin Attribute, a legendary fortress that was known to be the symbol of humankind’s unyielding spirit rose from the ground. The fortress walls glowed with a peculiar light that eroded the incoming arrows and spells into cinders. The giants were also forced to retract their fists.

Lilian’s eyes remained placid as she watched the assault of the flame spirits fizzed out. Of course, there was no way her counterattack would stop just at this.

“Wuuuu!”

A shrill war horn played.

Following that, over a thousand of silhouettes began rushing onto the fortress’ towering walls with a huge bow each in their hands. Their arms were equipped in a specially crafted magic armor that enhanced their archery. As they drew their bowstrings, their arrows began to whistle with the blessing of the wind spirits.

At their commander’s call, more than a thousand arrows were released simultaneously.

Behind them the archers were a circle of red-robed magicians, who were choraling in unison to channel a devastating large-scale spell. Beneath the fortress’ walls, ferocious warriors had started clashing with the flame spirits.

It was a war comparable to those in the legends!

Elsewhere in the depths of the fog, Roel glanced in the direction where the explosion of lights and noises were coming from, and worry filled his face.

The scale of the flame spirits summoned by Portas Eye exceeded their initial expectations. Even so, Roel believed that Lilian would be able to return these deceased sinners to the earth. She had done her part, and he had to live to her expectations by subduing the true culprit behind all of this.

Thus, he turned his back on the flames and rushed toward the heart of the unsettling mana.

…

Roel and Lilian might share the same bloodline, but the difference in their Origin Attributes gave rise to vastly different powers.

Lilian’s power was centered around the concept of ‘command’. Her inexhaustible platoon of soldiers that grew alongside her and her means to protect them made them a terrifying force to her enemies. It was nigh impossible for enemies to breach the defensive prowess of Ten Fortresses to assassinate the backlines, which, in turn, guaranteed reliable support for the frontlines.

This allowed her soldiers to easily crush any enemy force that equaled or were weaker than them, though fights with stronger enemies still required a more careful war of attrition.

In contrast, while Roel was also a force to be reckoned with, his ancient gods excelled not in quantity but quality. On top of that, his Crown’s Stones posed a constant threat to his enemies that forced them to deal with them. The sheer burst power he harnessed allowed him to fearlessly confront enemies who were stronger than him.

Thus, they divided up the work between them based on their respective fields of specialization, and they unconditionally trusted each other to carry out their work.

Deep in the fog, a lanky old man with a lamp in his hand was still quietly observing Lilian, unaware that a pair of golden eyes had already locked onto him. Unknowingly, a chilling frost had already seeped into the drifting fog.

Roel never believed in discriminating means when it came to a life-and-death battle, and this held particularly true when it came to the Fallens. Using the nearby buildings and the Witch Queen’s powers to conceal himself, he slowly approached the old man till they were finally less than a hundred meters away from each other.

It was also at this point that the High Priest who served the Sun God several millenniums ago finally turned his sunken green eyes toward him. Fury immediately blazed in his glowering eyes, and his sagging face scrunched up in anger.

The black-robed priest felt no greater hatred toward anything other than the young man suffused with the Mother Goddess’ aura. This instinct was carved inside his mind millenniums ago. The moment his eyes fell upon Roel, he reflexively raised his demonic relic.

Back in the era of the gods, the responsibility of a priest was to bring sinners before their god for judgment to be passed. That was why the old man believed that it was meaningless for anyone to sneak up on him since his demonic relic could be activated in an instant.

Little did he know that this standard reflex of his was what Roel was preying on.

As the divine lamp that had once brought peace and warmth to the world was lifted by a bony hand, the Savior’s High Priest showed a smile dripping with malevolence. He was mocking Roel for his foolishness, thinking that it was impossible for the latter to outspeed the lamp’s light no matter how fast he was.

To his surprise, what appeared on Roel’s face wasn’t despair but the same mocking look.

“!”

The High Priest was startled.

An ominous feeling arose within him, but it was already too late. Brilliant light reminiscent of the sun’s rays was expulsed from the lamp, but this golden radiance of depravity failed to shine its light upon Roel. Instead, it was forced to return where it had come from.

As soon as the lamp was activated, the frost aura disguised as fog around Roel gathered together and solidified to form a clear mirror. At the same time, Peytra’s Blessing fell upon Roel, granting him a spurt of mana that he immediately channeled toward the Crown Origin Attribute.

“Boom!”

Through furiously pumping his mana, Roel was able to activate his Crown Origin Attribute to the greatest degree, thus significantly increasing his resistance against the Savior’s power.

With the combined protection of the Crown Origin Attribute and the glacial mirror, he continued to swiftly advance on the High Priest without stopping in the slightest.

This maneuver allowed him to greatly narrow the distance between him and the High Priest. The power of Portas Eye intensified with his approach, such that even the minuscule glimmer of light that slipped past the mirror was enough to induce a stabbing pain in his head. Just as his consciousness started to blur, crimson light suddenly gushed from his body.

Grandar’s towering skeletal body broke through the fog, his presence causing the surrounding fog to become even denser. He coldly gazed down at the High Priest with eyes glowering with murderous intent.

With his crimson fog and divine body, he stood unwaveringly before the blinding rays of Portas Eye. His fury-charged fist swiftly plummeted down from the sky onto his enemy.

This was a fist that was packed with Grandar’s full strength, complete with Roel’s vindictive emotions.

It was impossible for the High Priest to dodge the attack due to the close proximity where it was coming from. His flesh and bones were squashed, and the lamp in his hand fell to the ground. Intense mana pulsations gushed outward as shockwaves, sweeping away everything in the vicinity.

Boom!

The devastating force reduced the High Priest’s body to smithereens, which splattered outward all around the fog. At the same time, Portas Eye lost its luminosity as it rolled on the ground with a dull sound. Before its light could return with renewed fervor, Roel immediately encircled it with a dense layer of frost aura.

It was the contrasting nature of the Savior and the Mother Goddess’ powers that led the High Priest to view Roel with animosity, but it had now become the key that allowed Roel to suppress the other party.

With layer after layer of frost aura stacking relentlessly over it, the weak flame burning in Portas Eye swiftly darkened. Seconds later, the terrifying demonic relic finally ran out of mana and stopped functioning.

With the sealing of the demonic relic, Roel’s movements were no longer restricted. The tides of the battle had turned now that the High Priest had lost his most powerful offensive means, but Roel didn’t put his guard down despite so.

He simply didn’t think that an old monster who had survived from the era of the gods till now could be killed at easily.

“Roel, the punch doesn’t feel right,” said Grandar.

“!”

Roel wasn’t too surprised when he heard Grandar’s words. He began flitting forward to take a closer look at the remains of the High Priest, but while he was making his way over, he had already noticed an anomalous detail.

There’s no blood stench.

Even Layton, an Origin Level 1 transcendent famed for his physical resilience, couldn’t walk away unscathed from a direct attack from Grandar, but there was no blood stench coming from the scrawny Savior’s High Priest at all. This clearly signaled a problem.

Thus, Roel hastened his footsteps with increased vigilance, causing the fog to fly past him.

Soon, an unbelievable sight appeared before his eyes. It answered his doubt as to why there was no blood stench.

It was not because the enemy wasn’t hurt but that his body didn’t contain any blood at all.

The Savior’s High Priest had his both legs stabbed into the soil, and a sprout had emerged from his tattered body. The sprout swiftly grew into a massive tree, or to be more exact, a treant.

Roel was surprised by the enemy’s true identity, but he didn’t lose his wits. Without any hesitation, he rushed forward with the intent to snuff out the life in the High Priest before he could regenerate. It was then that another perplexing scene caught his attention.

Buried deep inside the tree’s crown was a beating heart.

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