Chapter 1696: Chapter 1696
As Salsi II collapsed, Mr. Rossier of the Legacy Sage Church rushed to support him. He placed a hand glowing with golden light on Salsi II's head, and a wisp of black smoke seeped out from the king's temple.
Mr. Rossier stated simply:
"Just as I suspected. Whoever helped him harbored ill intentions."
All eyes turned to them, but Mr. Rossier gestured for them not to panic and to simply carry on with their tasks.
He sent someone to summon the physicians from the Church of All Things and Nature and instructed Sarrot and Dolores to watch over the king, whose eyes were wide open as if unable to close. Then, Rossier reached out and gently twisted his fingers in the air. A thin line of black mist emerged from between Salsi II's brows, stretching out beyond the conference room.
One of the scenes on the chessboard followed Mr. Rossier. He didn't allow anyone to accompany him, choosing instead to follow the line of mist alone. Eventually, in the palace's rear garden, he found the figures represented by the three black stars.
They were two men and a woman, dressed in a traditional black suit, a brown hunting outfit, and a black gauze skirt. The trio was clearly waiting for him. The moment Mr. Rossier set foot in the garden, masses of red flesh buried deep underground erupted from the soil like a fountain, splattering down like rain.
Unsurprisingly, Mr. Rossier accused the figures before him of attempting to murder Salsi II and summoning the snowman army to destroy Ruen. The three strangers, however, had no intention of engaging him in conversation, much less offering a defense. They attacked immediately.
There were four demigods currently in Ruen. Three were holding the front lines, battling the snowman army. Caught off guard, Mr. Rossier was no match for three opponents of his level.
The explosions and strange flashes of light from their battle quickly drew the attention of others inside the palace. The members of the Orthodox Churches knew exactly what was happening and wasted no time urging everyone to evacuate the premises.
The people from the conference room and other parts of the palace evacuated in different groups. Accompanying the Stuarts was an entire squad of Night Watchmen that had been on standby, along with some clergy who handled administrative records and the royal guards.
They procured a stretcher from somewhere, and the Stuarts personally carried their father, protected by the Church's Benefactors and regular attendants. They bypassed the rear garden, aiming to escape through the main entrance. Of course, neither Dolores nor Sarrot helped carry the stretcher; she was a very young princess, and his left arm was a prosthesis, making it impossible for either of them to assist.
The conference room had been oppressively hot, but the farther north they walked, the cooler the air grew. By the time the group finally reached the palace's main gate, the temperature had plummeted to the point where those in light attire were shivering uncontrollably.
Suddenly, a sharp screech cut through the air. The Night Watchmen from the Church of the Unlit Moon, who were protecting the group, immediately raised their hands. Invisible spirit coalesced into an indescribable, lightless orb, intercepting the mass of red flesh that shot toward them from behind.
Even after hitting the ground, the flesh remained active, writhing and crawling toward them. A human face began to form within the amorphous mass, but before it could utter a sound, a nearby Benefactor incinerated it, leaving nothing but a charred husk.
Everyone glanced back in the direction the flesh had flown from, toward the palace's rear garden. At that very moment, a strange golden light erupted, followed by the sound of grinding gears that seemed to echo deep within their minds. A malevolent chill swept over them, raising goosebumps on their skin.
Black smoke shot out from the golden light, crashing down toward them. As the smoke dissipated, the demigod in the brown hunting outfit materialized before the group.
The bearded captain of the Night Watchmen escort declared, leading his squad forward to engage the enemy.
Sarrot Stuart shouted, repeating the order. He knew ordinary people were useless in a fight of this magnitude. They could only watch as the Church's Benefactors were drawn into the fray, while the rest of their party hurried through the gate and down the hill.
Their group wasn't large. Besides the Stuarts, it included a few civilian military officers and some ordinary clergy sent by the Orthodox Church to help coordinate the evacuation.
Their most cumbersome piece of luggage was the unconscious Salsi II, and though the others were only carrying documents, their pace was slow. Their predicament could be easily resolved if even one of the demigods fighting on the front lines could be diverted to help, but until then, they had to avoid danger at all costs.
But things have a way of turning for the worst. The group had barely cleared the palace's main gate and had yet to even comment on the frigid air on the hill's northern slope when another plume of black smoke burst through the golden light with a deafening boom. It shot down with pinpoint accuracy, landing directly in their path.
The moment the black smoke touched the ground, it billowed outward. A man in a black formal suit gradually became visible at its center. The smoke didn't fully disperse; instead, it coiled around him, a formless, shadowy haze that swirled about his figure, creating an exceptionally eerie sight.
Even knowing it would be useless, Sarrot gave the order for an immediate counterattack. Before them stood the eerie man wreathed in mist; behind them, the royal palace they had just escaped. It truly seemed there was nowhere left to run. After all, they were just ordinary people...
He looked at his sister.
Dolores took a deep breath and raised her hand. A sharp crackle filled the air as moisture sublimated into ice. First, a pair of boots materialized just behind her, followed by the full form of a swordsman, an ice blade already in its grasp.
Perhaps the snowman army's offensive had altered the local environment, or perhaps Dolores had recently grown stronger, but the ice swordsman that appeared this time was far more defined. Its decorations were more intricate, and the ancient runes etched into its armor and weapon were more diverse than before.
Though it still paled in comparison to the one Jenkins could summon, it was, at the very least, no longer a simple sword-wielding golem.
The swordsman opened its eyes, glanced forward, then darted from behind Dolores to charge the mist-shrouded man. Each step left a perfect, polished footprint of ice on the ground. As it closed the distance, even the swirling black mist began to crystallize from the intense cold.
The swordsman stomped, launching itself into the air, and brought its blade down in a powerful two-handed strike. Fueled by the momentum of its descent, the blow was incredibly swift, and even the onlookers could hear the blade whistle as it sliced through the air.
The seemingly unstoppable strike descended straight for the man's head, only to be caught effortlessly in a single hand. The demigod held the blade fast while his other hand, shrouded in black mist, plunged into the swordsman's chest. It punched through the ice armor and out the other side. He clenched his fist, and the dark mist clinging to it detonated, blowing the ice swordsman into a thousand scattered shards. A few pieces even flew as far as Salsi II's stretcher. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel-fire.ɴet
Dolores's face turned white, and her sisters rushed to support her. She began to cough violently, blood trickling from her nostrils and the corners of her eyes.
"So, you must be the only Benefactor in this generation of the Stuart family?"
The man inquired, slowly lowering his hand. His Hamparvo was stiff, tinged with a distinct southern accent.
Seeing Dolores press a handkerchief to her lips to stem the flow of blood, he let his gaze drift over all the Stuarts.
"Then the Ice Soul must be on one of you."
His statement was quite accurate. At that moment, every Stuart—save for the youngest children uninvolved in politics—was gathered before him, including King Sarrot Stuart. If the Ice Soul truly belonged to the Stuart family, then it had to be in the possession of one of them. His deduction was spot-on.
"So, which one of you has it?"
As he spoke, the black mist around him began to spread, threatening to engulf everyone in its path. But at that exact moment, a golden light flared from Dolores's chest. The power radiating from a pendant engraved with Jenkins's true name forcefully drove the black mist back.
"Are you from the Perfume Appreciation Committee?"
Though her face was still pale, Dolores seemed to recover some strength from the pendant's power, but her voice remained incredibly faint.
"No," the man replied. "I'm from the Tree House. I did work for the Committee for a time, but now I've simply returned to my original organization."
The man said, adjusting the collar of his suit as he eyed the golden glow with curiosity.
"Which deity's power is this? No, it doesn't matter. If you were a member of the clergy and possessed an Extraordinary item so close to a sacred relic, I doubt I could take you away so easily. But what a pity... you don't even believe in the god who is protecting you."
Black mist seemed to pour from his every pore, engulfing the demigod from the Tree House in an instant. The surging fog began to corrode the golden light from Dolores's pendant, forcing the group to back away. Everyone knew the pendant wouldn't hold for much longer.
"Aren't you going to do something?"
Beside the chessboard, the eldest princess, who was in Nolan, asked Jenkins. With one hand stroking the cat on his lap and the other propping up his head, Jenkins leaned over, watching the scene unfold.
"I'm not needed yet."
His voice was perfectly level, but the cat, who knew him well, sensed his anger.
With that, Jenkins stood up. Under the wary eyes of the three princesses, he rounded the table and approached the comatose Salsi II. He had been severely wounded in Ruen because of a doppelganger, and although his consciousness and soul had returned to his body, he had yet to awaken.
Jenkins placed a hand on the old king's limp wrist, slowly assessing his physical condition. A moment later, he released it and gently touched Salsi II's forehead with his right index finger, which now glowed with a verdant light.