Chapter 82: The True Power of the World! (44)

The mountain forest in winter is gloomy and dark.

Beneath a hidden thicket, Mbabahate, clad in black beast skins and wearing a beast-bone mask, steps with an eerie, sinister dance.

He harbors boundless hatred in his heart, silently chanting the full name of the Crescent Baron, picturing his visage, and continually waving a straw doll, as if a master controlling ants in the mortal realm.

He is the Forest Spirit with the deepest mana, possibly even the deepest mana on the island; he intends to expend all his mana to curse a person to death—no one on the island can withstand his curse!

"Crescent Baron~ Crescent Baron~ If my tribe's many warriors' lives accompany you to the grave, your death is worthwhile!"

As the witch dance proceeds, his inner mana is gradually stirred by his hatred, beginning to trickle into the straw doll.

With his movements, the straw voodoo doll becomes ever more intricate, gradually taking on the likeness of Luosen.

Exactly the same as the image Mbabahate had seen with his own eyes before.

"Ancestors of the mountain forest~ hear my declaration~~ Evil spirits hidden in caves and pools~ hear my summoning~~ A supremely evil demon lies ahead!"

"His name is Luosen Sachs, his appearance is thus, he is now slaughtering the warriors who serve the mountain forest, trampling the brave sons of the forest."

"Heed my command, tear his flesh, devour his soul!"

As he chants softly, Mbabahate pours all his mana into the straw doll in his hand, then lifts his hand, grips the doll's head, exerts all his strength, trying to tear the head from the body.

"Ah~~~~~~"

Yet it fails.

"Baron, you still have some tricks, but all your struggles are in vain."

He grits his teeth and tries again.

"Hey~~~~~~ya~~"

Still no success; his arms are sore and weak, yet the doll remains unmoving.

This slender neck is actually harder to twist than an iron rod.

"Alright, alright, alright, you're impressive!"

"Taste the Forest Spirit's fangs!"

Mbabahate, disbelieving, simply places the voodoo doll in his mouth and bites down with his teeth.

"Ee~~~~~~crunch~~"

A sharp pain shoots from his gums; the sore, aching taste makes Mbabahate nearly cry out on the spot.

Upon retrieving the voodoo doll, he sees it remains intact, stained with much blood and fragments of broken teeth.

Clearly a straw doll, clearly infused with his own mana, yet he cannot complete the final step of the voodoo curse.

Not even biting works.

Mbabahate cannot fathom why this is happening; he feels utterly lost.

"Ancestors, evil spirits, have you abandoned me?"

No reply, only the howling forest wind and the distant cries of warriors outside.

"Thud~~~~~"

Mbabahate collapses helplessly to the ground, staring at the voodoo doll in his hand, harder than steel, dazedly.

He knows he has lost, utterly and completely.

Suddenly, faint footsteps reach his ears; before he can turn, he hears a familiar voice.

"Mbabahate, I never expected you to come this far."

The voice is pleasant and round, like the song of a snow‑bird in the mountains.

Mbabahate's body jolts violently: "Goddess!"

He wants to turn and look, but a force pins his body, preventing movement, so he can only keep his back to the voice's source.

"Help me~ Goddess~~ Please help me one last time~ Please~"

"Look outside, look at those cruel humans, they are slaughtering the forest children you favor!"

"The balance of White Sturgeon Island will be utterly shattered by that evil Baron!"

The prophet's voice is frantic, even tearful.

Yet the Goddess's reply disappoints him.

"I will not be deceived again, Mbabahate. In your heart, I am no goddess; you merely regard me as a tool for revenge."

"I have also uncovered the source of your hatred—your father died at human hands. Thus you wish to exterminate every human on the island, correct?"

Mbabahate feels struck at his core, also sensing the Goddess's words carry indifference.

He instantly realizes his performance is utterly useless.

At this point, he no longer hides his thoughts.

"All humans deserve to die!"

"I now only resent that my mana is not deep enough, my arts not profound enough."

"Goddess, I have roughly guessed your identity; I speak plainly: I despise you!"

"For you clearly possess such great power, yet you do not use it to avenge our ancestors, instead remaining peacefully on this remote little island."

"If I had your power, I would not only slaughter all humans on White Sturgeon Island, but also eradicate humans on Weilan Island, and even wipe out humanity on the White Continent—I would have them all killed cleanly!"

The Goddess laughs aloud.

"What are you laughing at? Is what I said wrong?"

"Wrong, utterly wrong."

The Goddess's voice remains indifferent, yet as always pleasant.

"Mbabahate, let me tell you: in this world there are no great gods anymore. Now the world only has great power, and kings who are great because of power."

"It is true I have inherited some special power from my bloodline, but even so, if I were to rush out of the forest to face the humans outside, my combat performance would not be much better than Andoxia's."

"Perhaps he can resist over forty lightning balls with potions, while I can resist sixty, but against the humans' powerful magical devices, does that difference matter?"

Mbahat let out a loud roar.

"You can still assassinate!"

"That's right, I can assassinate, but who should I assassinate?"

"Assassinate the king who holds power in your mouth! Assassinate the Crescent Baron across from you!"

The goddess smiled again.

"Witchcraft Master, you still don't understand."

"The king is great because of power, not the other way around."

"And the fundamental source of power is precisely the aggregation of the will and strength of countless humans."

"Thus, I killed a king, merely killing the wielder of power, but power itself remains unharmed."

"The king's ministers will immediately elect a new king to wield power."

"Believe me, there is never a shortage of people who want to be king in this world. Even if I kill a hundred kings, a 101st will pop up the next day."

"But Weilan Island has tens of millions of people, while I only have one life."

Mbahat shook his head repeatedly: "I don't believe it~~ I don't believe it~~ There must be a way to take revenge, there must be a way!"

"There is certainly a way."

"What way? Tell me quickly! Tell me quickly!"

Mbahat looked like he was going mad.

"Put on the crown, become king, wield power, and you will possess the greatest power in the world, a true might capable of destroying everything and changing everything!"

Seeing Mbahat stunned by his words, the goddess laughed softly again.

"What a pity, you are merely a witchcraft master filled with hatred; of course you don't know how to be a king."

"The tragedy is that your opponent happens to be someone who knows how to be a king."

"That ever-present, constant pressure you've been feeling, no matter what you do or struggle, cannot be shaken off, comes from his giant hand that grips power."

"Even everything you've done is also in service to that king in the castle."

"Me, serve him? How could that be?"

"No, that's absolutely impossible!"

Mbahat shook his head repeatedly, his belief on the verge of collapsing.

"You helped him gather all those dissatisfied with the new king's rule, and you also helped him send this batch into the trap he set."

"Now, this batch of opponents has been completely slaughtered, and everyone else on the island has felt the new king's iron-blooded ruthlessness; who would dare oppose him thereafter?"

"So, are you not actually helping him greatly consolidate his throne of power?"

"Ah!!!"

Mbahat let out a loud cry, feeling only intense pain in his chest, a surge of scalding blood gushing upward from his chest.

He clutched his chest tightly, trying to press that blood back in.

"Puff~~~~~"

In the end, it still failed.

That blood violently spurted from his mouth, turning in the winter mountain forest into a rolling hot blood mist.

It seemed even his soul was sprayed out with that mouthful of blood.

His heart was as if dead, yet he still had one last doubt.

"I don't understand, why did my curse fail?"

"If I could curse the Crescent Baron to death, then even knowing all this, he could die willingly."

"The problem is the curse didn't succeed."

"Because I secretly turned your voodoo doll into an iron doll."

"Ah you... you... puff~~~~"

Mbahat spat another mouthful of blood.

"Hehe~~ I tricked you, I don't actually have the skill to secretly swap your voodoo doll; good thing you also tricked me once, so we're even."

Hearing that, Mbahat felt like vomiting blood again.

"Then why didn't the curse succeed?"

"Because the baron's princess wife is an Arcane Master; what you just opposed was actually not the baron, but his wife."

"Ah, that's how it is~~~"

Mbahat suddenly realized and sighed, his spirit utterly lacking support, unable to hold up his body any longer, with a 'plop' he fell forward into the mud.

Behind him, the mysterious woman in a white cloak slightly shook her head, silently sighing: 'Actually I still have something I haven't told you.'

There are many kings in the world, but true kings are few. And you happen to be facing a candidate for the Weilan True King.

So, consider yourself unlucky.

The old era of the sea island has completely ended; tomorrow we enter a new era.

(End of chapter)