Chapter 472 Weather
His body involuntarily straightened, and his head snapped up.
The Tyrant card in his hand suddenly thickened and brightened, transforming into a luminous book.
The pages of the book rapidly flipped, revealing various forms of Emperor Roselle. He alternated between the attire of a Sailor, sporting a nautical hat, and singing with head held high amidst the waves…
The scene settled on the Emperor donned in a papal tiara and a pontiff’s robe.
His interaction with the dim sky summoned a colossal bolt of lightning, piercing through the clouds.
Rumble!
Amidst the thunderclaps, the illusory figure of Emperor Roselle merged with The Hanged Man Alger.
His demeanor abruptly became dignified, and the Srenzo River around the Blue Avenger instantaneously calmed, resembling a windless lake.
“Adorning” the papal tiara and “draping” the pontiff’s robe, The Hanged Man Alger conjured a silver staff condensed from lightning.
Stepping forward, he ascended into the sky, surrounded by the wind.
Rumble!
Above Trier, thunder roared, and a visible hurricane swept up myriad dark clouds, forming a colossal, dark, and ominous vortex.
Within the vortex, dense bolts of lightning of various hues intertwined, extending out to shroud the blazing sun in the west.
Whoosh!
The rain, like an opened faucet, cascaded into every nook of Trier, creating a misty fog that enveloped everything.
In the blink of an eye, a layer of water covered the ground, illuminated by both sunlight and lightning.
The citizens, roused by the morning sunlight, now felt an impending apocalypse as they stared at the pitch-black backdrop untouched by the blazing sunlight and snake-like lightning.
…
In the profound darkness corresponding to Salle de Bal Brise, Lumian, a colossal giant standing over ten meters tall with two additional illusory heads and four exaggerated arms, witnessed the mysterious door to which he was attached slowly creaking open with a weighty grinding sound. Gradually, a crack emerged, and within the fissure, formless flames flickered.
The iron-black door, tainted with blood and rust, finally broke free from its constraints, and the crack became more pronounced.
Holding Jenna tightly, Lumian couldn’t resist the ominous pull and descended through the door.
His left chest glowed, and, along with the entire Hostel and the other twelve rooms, they were on the verge of passing through the mysterious door.
…
In the real market district, on the second floor of Salle de Bal Brise.
As reality and fiction switched, Gardner Martin, Supervisor Olson, and the members of the Iron and Blood Cross Order, who hadn’t gone to set fire to Rist Docks and other locations, seamlessly transitioned into the painting world.
They remained on the ground, beside the deep darkness that represented Salle de Bal Brise. This was thanks to a figure who had silently materialized behind them.
Behind Supervisor Olson stood a man in formal attire, sans a bow tie. Aged between his thirties and forties, he possessed a high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, and light-blue irises. His slightly curled brown hair framed an unusually stiff countenance, his eyes reflecting open disdain and arrogance.
Behind Gardner Martin stood an old man with meticulously combed dark-red hair, clad in a blue military suit adorned with a sash and medals.
Though wrinkles marked the old man’s face, his dark eyes emanated sharpness capable of toppling houses and uprooting the earth wherever they landed.
They were the president and the most powerful vice president of the Iron and Blood Cross Order. Under their guardianship, Gardner Martin and Olson remained unaffected by the heretics’ ritual, refraining from entering the painting world.
As for the other upper echelons of the Iron and Blood Cross Order, they wreaked havoc in various parts of Trier, diverting the attention of official Beyonders.
Observing the dark depths of Salle de Bal Brise morph into a pair of blood-stained iron-black doors, the four members of the Iron and Blood Cross Order entered without hesitation, as if they had executed the maneuver countless times before.
…
In the deepest depths of Red Swan Castle, within the hall located in the underground maze.
Count Poufer, clad in a robe and barefoot, had already arrived. By the glow of white candles, he fixated on the rusty bronze coffin.
The coffin’s lid shifted, unveiling illusory purple flames that filled the interior.
These flames merged with the iron-black ring embedded in the ground, beneath the bronze coffin. They blended with the viscous blood and withered hearts within the ring, forming an entrance—a deep entrance tainted with blood and rust.
Through this entrance emanated a lofty, bloody, and frenzied aura from the underground.
Count Poufer trembled under the influence of the aura, yet his eyes burned with fanaticism and fearlessness.
This was his first proximity to the ancestor’s mind!
A twisted smile adorned Poufer’s face as he strode forward, passing through the peripheral glow of candlelight and approaching the anomalous bronze coffin.
In the entire world, only the Sauron family members with the corresponding talents who had bided their time in Red Swan Castle, the mysterious leader of the Secret Order, and the long-dead Emperor Roselle knew that beneath Red Swan Castle lay another breached seal of Fourth Epoch Trier.
Vermonda Champagne Sauron, who once dominated the Sauron family, had gone mad and entered the upper levels of Fourth Epoch Trier!
His frenzied spirit lingered at the seal, inextinguishable. His anguished roars echoed, affecting everyone in Red Swan Castle and those of the same bloodline.
Now, it was time to put an end to the curse that had caused the Sauron family’s decline and trapped the Saurons in nightmares!
Count Poufer felt a potent sense of mission and honor. With the conviction that he would die here, he laughed maniacally, pressed his hand to the edge of the bronze coffin, and lay down.
His figure plummeted into the deep entrance stained with blood and rust.
As Count Poufer vanished into the bronze coffin, Elros Einhorn, in a beige hunting suit with a ponytail, entered the hall.
Her gaze swept over the white candles and the bronze coffin, scrutinizing the changes in the seal. She then cut her finger, dripping three drops of bright red blood on the ground.
Lowering her head, she recited solemnly, “The embodiment of Iron and Blood, the symbol of the Calamity of War, the Priest who controls the weather, the great Snarner Einhorn…”
After finishing the incantation, the blood on the ground boiled, expanding into a blood-colored lake before condensing into a figure clad in iron-black, blood-stained armor.
Standing over 1.8 meters tall, with long dark-red hair and flamboyant golden earrings, the figure exuded androgynous, handsome features.
Darkened brown eyes fixed on Elros as the figure nodded gently and spoke,”Well done. In the previous war, the family lost its most important object. We must seize every opportunity to make up for our losses, even if it’s just a portion.”
With that, Snarner Einhorn entered the deep entrance of the bronze coffin.
Elros’s eyes flickered as she observed the scene.
Finally, she sighed and said, “Regardless, the Sauron family’s curse will end…”
…
In Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.
Franca, with a mixture of surprise and concern, took out the Primordial Demoness’s bone figurine and the ancient silver mirror she had obtained from underground.
Uncertain about the significance of the abnormality in these two items, she decided to place them at a distance. Her plan was to wait and observe subsequent changes before deciding on the next course of action.
At that precise moment, the classic silver mirror unexpectedly reflected the Primordial Demoness figurine, even though it wasn’t in its line of sight. This occurrence triggered a seismic disturbance throughout Rue des Blouses Blanches.
Dark light surged from the mirror, enveloping Franca and Anthony Reid before they could employ any abilities.
As the darkness subsided, only the coffee table, sofa, and various furnishings remained in Apartment 601.
Adjacent to the mural depicting a segment of the market district, behind the ecstatic Painter, an ancient silver mirror detached from the painting world and gently descended into the shadows. Gradually sinking deeper and deeper, it swiftly vanished.
…
Amidst the indescribable heat and the swirling world, Lumian and Jenna landed on a ground covered in pale-black stone bricks.
Their eyes were met with the sight of a magnificent city in the distance, featuring asymmetrical black buildings and vibrant red houses.
A thin fog intermittently shrouded the city, giving it the appearance of a mirage, the kind occasionally encountered by pirates and sailors.
In the wilderness beyond the city, dark clouds gathered, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and rain poured. A colossal figure, dozens of meters tall, stood surrounded by these natural phenomena, barely visible and indistinguishable.
“He” lingered outside the city, enveloped in smoke, flames, hail, lightning, torrential rain, and violent winds, as if perpetual.
Is this Fourth Epoch Trier? Lumian speculated, though uncertainty lingered. This wasn’t quite what he had expected.
Jenna subconsciously turned to look at him and noticed that he had reverted to his original appearance, no longer abnormally huge. He no longer possessed three heads and six arms.