Chapter 600: The Blood Palace
Northern stepped into the cavern, walking forward over the wreckage of the colossal door, his boots crunching on the warped metal as he strode into the blood-soaked darkness beyond.
The air within was heavy-thicker, almost tangible, as if each breath drew not oxygen but the weight of a thousand souls.
The crimson haze that filled the cavern outside seemed to condense here, pooling in murky rivulets across the polished floor.
The Blood Palace.
The vast chamber unveiled itself in solemn, gruesome grandeur.
The walls appeared alive, veins of dark scarlet pulsating faintly beneath their surface, as though the room itself had been carved from a colossal living organism.
Overhead, an arched ceiling stretched high into shadowed obscurity, lined with crystalline droplets that glistened like blood-red tears, catching and refracting the dim light into a haunting mosaic.
Towering statues lined the length of the hall, each depicting a crusader mid-battle.
Their blood-forged forms were grotesquely lifelike, every detail painstakingly rendered- the jagged edges of their armor, the taut strain of their muscles, and the ferocious determination forever etched into their expressions.
Some gripped massive swords, their edges dripping with what looked like fresh blood, while others carried shields emblazoned with runes that radiated faint crimson auras.
Among them were the standing crusaders-unmoving yet not lifeless.
Their poses were rigid, their stances militant, but their eyes... their eyes burned with a dim, sinister glow.
From their fingertips danced faint trails of spell arts-glyphs and sigils of blood magic that floated in the air like dying embers, waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation.
At the heart of the hall, elevated on a staircase of bones entwined with crimson tendrils, stood the grand throne. No-the thrones.
The tallest, central seat loomed over the others, a menacing construct of blackened bone and bloodsteel similar to the door's material. Its surface was adorned with jagged spikes that seemed designed not for comfort but for supremacy.
Seated upon it was a figure draped in flowing robes that shifted like liquid blood, the crimson fabric cascading to pool at the base of the throne like a river of gore.
Their face was hidden beneath an ornate helm, its design a fusion of elegance and savagery, with horns curving outward like a crown of violence.
They held a scepter in one hand, its tip pulsating with raw, terrifying power that made the air hum with latent energy.
Flanking the central throne were lesser seats, each occupied by a crusader in repose, their armor distinct yet unified in a macabre aesthetic.
These seated figures exuded a commanding presence, their postures upright, as though ready to rise at a moment's notice to answer their master's call.
Northern stopped at the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room.
The oppressive energy swirled around him, trying to claw its way into his soul.
Lieutenant Dante, who had followed cautiously behind, froze at the sight. His breath hitched, and his hand instinctively moved toward his blade.
"It's magnificent," Northern muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with strange
reverence.
Dante shot him a glance. "Magnificent? This place is a nightmare made real."
"Exactly," Northern replied, his grin faint but sharp. "Whoever designed this didn't just want to create a rift. They wanted to send a message. Every detail, every inch of this place screams of dominion and supremacy."
Northern stepped forward, his boots splashing in the shallow blood pooling on the floor.
As he moved closer to the center of the chamber, the seated ruler stirred, the scepter's glow intensifying.
The standing crusaders turned their heads in unison, their glowing eyes locking onto him. A low hum of power filled the hall as the spell arts in their hands grew brighter.
Northern's grin widened. "I suppose this is the part where we make introductions. So, do you want to go first, or shall I?"
"Are you kidding me right now? How is only one of us supposed to deal with all these statues..."
"Simple-we make it tag. You go in, tag me when you're tired, and I tag you when you're tired."
Lieutenant Dante tilted his head, his forehead creasing.
'Is this really a joke to these guys? All the creatures here are behemoths; this essence radiating from them says no less. How can he be so calm and casual about this?' Lieutenant Dante ruminated inwardly, his eyes staying on Northern with a faint light of admiration.
One of the standing crusaders raised an arm, and a sigil blazed to life in the air before them. It twisted and writhed like a serpent, growing brighter with each passing second. Dante moved instinctively, drawing his sword and stepping in front of Northern.
Northern slowly counted his steps backward as Dante prepared to face the monster. He observed the kind of skill the monster was using and got ready for a major part of his plan.
The sigil exploded into a massive serpent with a lustrous black stone body and devilish red eyes. It thrashed forward without further ado, widening its ferocious maw and crashing onto the ground where the Lieutenant was standing.
The ground exploded into debris and smoke, and as the cloud cleared-the caster statue widened its crimson eyes and quickly looked up.
There he was, Lieutenant Dante suspended in the air, his gaze locked onto the statue, his voice ringing out.
"Since I have more of you all to deal with, it would be a waste of time to dwell on your spell, don't you agree?"
"Lightspeed... Echo."
WHOOOOOOOOSSSHHH
Northern watched as white light covered the Lieutenant's form and thrust him forward, his sword burning with a wicked incandescent light that melted the surface of the red stone before the blade could fully generate into it, making it easy for the sword to penetrate.
A massive explosion resounded in the hall as the powerful strike was repeated throughout the rest of the statue's body.
Northern stared with excitement dancing in his eyes.
'This is a cheat skill; it really is a cheat skill.'
[Talent, Phantasmal Sword (SSS) has been found]
[Do you want to copy Talent for 5,000 talent fragments?] Northern grinned. 'Yes, of course.'