Chapter 626: The Ancient Covenant Awakened by the Demon King

The Earldom of Spinol witnessed its heaviest rainstorm since June, the torrential downpour as if intent on washing all sin from the earth.

Although Aileen's squad found no trace of humans in the cave, there was no doubt this was not the work of goblins alone.

This matter struck the Hero deeply.

Both spiritually and in terms of faith.

It was the Demon King who comforted her, urging her not to abandon her longing for the Holy Light—if she truly succumbed to evil, then evil had won.

"I believe Lady Antonie speaks truly: no matter what you saw in Dusk City, carry light in your heart… just as you must in the Wanren Mountains."

The inn of HanYa City.

Aileen, hugging her knees on the bed, lifted her tear-filled face. Those jade-green eyes, clouded with sorrow, were truly heartrending.

"Will carrying light make light come?" she said in a hoarse voice.

Luo Yan, standing by the window, did not answer immediately.

Rain slid down the windowpane, leaving long, silent trails on the glass.

After a moment's thought, he spoke the truth.

"No."

Aileen tightened her arms around her knees but asked no further.

Watching her lowered head, Luo Yan continued.

"But if everyone believes evil is an unquestionable axiom, they will live unquestioningly in the world they firmly believe in."

From the height of the Void Realm, this cycle is likely eternal.

The cruelty of the "Thoughts of the Many" lies in this: their illusions or curses toward others carry only six-tenths of their force, yet rebound upon themselves with twelvefold weight.

The plight of the Lein people was not because the goblins of the Demon Capital truly believed humans spent their days pulling out demons' intestines and forcing them to eat them back.

The Lein people's fate is determined solely by their own spiritual world.

The history of the Os Continent has verified this countless times, yet few have strung together these scattered fragments to ponder them.

In the language of this world, this is called "Thoughts of the Many"; in another world, there is a more common term for it: "Karma."

This is why demons, when punishing goblins, suffer no karmic retribution—yet on the lands of Lei Ming County, Lei Ji Dragon was swiftly slain by a divine-chosen soldier's spear.

By the same logic, if the King of Lein had only acted recklessly in Roland City, the karmic gale would not have blown so fiercely.

Even if copper coins were abolished and society regressed to barter-based tribes, the Lein people of Roland City could only endure it—just like the goblins of Black Wind Fortress.

But Thieden Devalu did something akin to Dragon's deed—and this was unforgivable.

This old, dim-eyed captain, in his foolish confidence, steered his small boat straight down the Flowing River.

And the people there were thinking entirely different thoughts—the karmic gale blew in a manner he did not know.

From a mortal perspective, this was an irreconcilable rift between feudalism and republicanism. But from a divine standpoint, it had nothing to do with either.

It was merely the coldest, most heartless causality in the universe.

And even colder: only true deities can perceive the full chain of causality.

Those caught in the rain can only curse fate's "injustice" again and again—why must their lifelong goodness be punished, sometimes rejoicing that it wasn't them who suffered, sometimes wailing for when the sky would finally clear.

Take Sir Dickbin, for example.

Standing drenched on the parade ground, he felt profoundly wronged.

He had merely followed the King's orders to do what was right, yet was sent to the Lein barracks of the First Mountain Regiment, standing shoulder to shoulder with lowborn mud-footed peasants.

The rain washed away his expensive whale-oil hair wax, turning his once immaculate coiffure—even in gales—into a soggy, sticky mass of seaweed, sloppily plastered over his forehead where makeup had been rinsed away.

Sir Wesley, in uniform, walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind his back, like a griffin patrolling his domain.

"Gentlemen, ladies…"

His muddy boots deliberately paused two seconds before Sir Dickbin's face, until stifled chuckles rose from the crowd.

Sir Wesley savored the slowly reddening, sour expression, curled his lips into a cold smile, then shifted his gaze and moved on.

His intent was not to humiliate the man, but to make him see his own face reflected in the mud—only the shamefaced can find courage afterward.

"Welcome to the Lein Barracks of the First Mountain Regiment of the Duchy of Campbell. You are all Lein people—you should know each other, and know why you stand here…"

"Behind that mountain before you, the children of the Holy Light are being butchered by barbarians. They gut your brothers like livestock, lock your wives and daughters in cages!"

"No matter how tenderly your 'Mother Dickbin' caresses the goblins' ugly fur, no matter how you justify yourselves as deserving this suffering—in our ranks, such barbarism is no different from Chaos!"

A murmur stirred through the crowd; several young men who had fled from goblin holes had red-rimmed eyes, burning with hatred, desperate to charge forward.

It was unclear who they'd charge—goblins were still some distance away.

Sir Dickbin felt a chill down his spine, swallowed hard, and for a moment forgot his ruined hair.

"I won't speak to you of honor—your king has already sold your knightly virtues for a good price. Nor will I speak of loyalty—you are not subjects of His Grace the Duke, at least not yet."

"But—"

Sir Wesley shifted tone, raising his voice.

"Here, at least in this moment, I hold you in higher regard! For you are not slaves who cannot live without a master, nor beggars groveling for our Emperor's charity—you are men striving to reclaim your dignity!"

"Will you take up rifles with us and prove to those vermin who trample you like insects that you are not cowards? That you are men with spines—not worms writhing in the mud!"

"The Army of the Duchy of Campbell does not take spineless creatures!"

As his impassioned words faded, the parade ground fell silent, save for the increasingly heavy breathing echoing through the rain.

In those once-numb eyes, something seemed to ignite.

It was the bloodline, long suppressed and worn away!

Sir Wesley was satisfied with their expressions.

Even Sir Dickbin, with his glassy stare, though trembling like a drowned rat, no longer wore only fear.

There was also a dazed confusion.

That was enough.

No one becomes good overnight.

Sir Wesley did not look back at them. He turned to the young officer standing rigidly behind him.

He was the instructor of the Lein Barracks, First Regiment—a former private who rose to non-commissioned officer after distinguishing himself in the Winter Coup.

Rumor said this young man had once been a carpenter; Sir Wesley hoped he could carve these waterlogged logs into something useful.

"Laman, it's yours."

His boots cracked sharply in the mud as Laman executed a flawless military salute, startling the dazed Sir Dickbin.

"Yes, sir!"

…

"By Saint Sis… how could these beasts do such things!"

In the morning of Lei Ming City, silence on the streets shattered by a curse.

A worker, on his way to the factory, gripped his newspaper tightly, staring in disbelief at the headline.

The front page carried a magic photograph.

Though editors had blurred the horrors of the HanYa camp and goblin dens to spare readers' sensibilities, the overwhelming aura of death and the brutal descriptions still choked every soul with conscience.

The children of the Flowing River were whipped like beasts, like sardines on a slaughter line—even embryos were turned into blasphemous ingredients for potions—

To not exterminate these beasts would make one unworthy as a child of the Holy Light!

Since the Second Era, the Os Continent had not seen a Holy War against a foreign race—but now, that ancient name stirred once more in the hearts of all faithful followers of the Holy Light.

Also mentioned: the ancient covenant.

The dwarven allies, vanished for countless years, reappeared in the sight of Lei Ming's citizens—

The mountain dwarves who had aided the Duchy of Campbell in the Dusk Province Campaign had long suffered under these goblins!

Street-corner curses did not stop at lips and teeth.

United in purpose, the Duchy of Campbell's war machine now operated at unprecedented speed!

The train station was packed to bursting.

Young men, with simple packs on their backs, bid tearful farewells to mothers and wives, one wave after another boarding troop trains bound for the Earldom of Spinol.

Among them were Lein people, Campbellians, and adventurers and mercenaries from all corners of the Vortex Sea.

Some fought for nationality or bounty; some to reclaim the dignity sold by their king; others, driven only by fervent devotion to the Holy Light.

In the summer of Os Calendar 1054, Lei Ming City was not dominated solely by profit-driven Mr. Hollis—the majority remained devout children of Saint Sis.

Not only children of Saint Sis marched to the front.

But children of the Dragon God as well.

Ambassador Sak Windrider of the Kingdom of Guta accepted an interview with the Lei Ming Daily, condemning the goblins' crimes in the Wanren Mountains.

"This is a desecration of life! A defilement of the soul! The United Kingdom of Guta will not permit Chaos to devour our world—even if our Dragon God has long left this land, the roar of dragons will never tolerate evil!"

"Queen Asethmata declares war on the Carrion Clan!"

Accompanying this thunderous declaration, a special force departed from Mudswamp City, traveling via Lei Ming's railway to the front.

Spinol Fortress, temporary train platform.

With a whistle piercing the clouds, a fully loaded steel train, belching thick white smoke, rolled slowly into the station like a gasping beast.

As the wheels halted, before any doors opened, a torrent of emerald-green surged from windows and doors.

Thousands upon thousands of lizards, tongues flickering.

Their bodies covered in scales, thick tails swaying, faces alight with excitement.

Most were true lizardfolk, but some were "Dragonkin" mixed in, and many were beta-test players who had just received access.

They were laden with dazzling gear: some carried cast-iron hand cannons as wide as bowls, others had colorful vials strapped to their waists, clinking as they walked.

They tumbled out noisily; some leapt wildly upon landing, testing the flexibility of their new bodies; others pointed at empty air, fingers sliding rapidly through invisible space—as if manipulating an unseen interface.

Others excitedly leaned on the platform railing, pointing at the distant Wan Ren Mountains and shouting, their tails wagging enthusiastically.

"Holy shit! Guys, look! The lighting effects on this new map are insane! Those distant mountains look just like the real thing!"

"Stop staring at the scenery! Where are the ratmen? My great blade is starving for blood!"

"Form teams! Violent Hand Cannon Lizardmen seeking party—need a healer!"

"No healer? How about a 'heal'?"

"Get lost! How come there are still such disgusting lizardmen?!"

Players entering via the expansion pack received randomized characters—whatever lizard egg you hatched from, that's your race.

Notably, in Expert Mode, death causes you to lose your current character and respawn as a undead in Normal Mode.

To avoid losing this powerful body, most players remained cautious and didn't abuse this rare beta opportunity to cause chaos.

The chaotic scene teemed with life, yet plunged the previously quiet Spinor Castle into unprecedented panic.

Residents along the streets slammed shut their doors and windows, drew their curtains, and dared only to peek through narrow slits, trembling as they watched these baffling monsters.

They muttered to thin air one moment, then jumped repeatedly in place like they were possessed, or grabbed each other's tails like mad dogs, fighting over "things no one else could see."

To prevent unrest, the royal heralds rode horses, drenched in sweat, racing up and down the streets, loudly calming the terrified civilians.

"Don't panic! They are warriors from the Kingdom of Guta! Here to help us fight the ratmen!"

By the end, even the royal herald seemed unsure of his own words, and had to force out one last line.

"They… won't eat people! Probably?"

In fact, these monsters didn't eat people at all—and behaved even "more polite" than most human soldiers, merely overly curious about new things.

A little boy hiding at the alley's mouth was spotted by a burly lizardman.

Just as the child was about to scream, the lizardman pulled out a few pitch-black candies from his waist pouch and tossed them over with a grin.

"Hey, kid! Know where there's a lost kitten or an old lady needing a letter delivered? I mean… any hidden quests?"

At the blacksmith's door, a group of lizardmen surrounded the bewildered smith standing before his anvil, buzzing like flies.

"Bro, can you add buffs to this hammer?"

"Dude! Quest! Quest!"

"Is your wife captured? Don't be shy—brothers'll rescue her for you!"

Blacksmith: "????"

Unfortunately, none of the NPCs understood what these "warriors of Guta" were saying.

As one group of players grew bored and left, another arrived, repeating the same actions, rehashing the same nonsense…

Their behavior was more NPC-like than actual NPCs.

Yet this bizarre contrast eased the fears of the local residents who had been terrified of the lizardmen.

They're just really chatty?

But soon, Spinor Castle's residents fell into another layer of confusion.

These lizardmen seem kind of dumb…

Are they really okay?

…

The chaos at the train station was just a minor incident.

Had Spinor Castle's residents known the "Lord of the Abyss"'s reputation in the Dusk Province, they'd never have doubted their combat prowess.

These guys were "saints" in the Dusk Province—here, they'd just swapped their "Guta" mask.

The disturbance didn't last long.

Just as the royal heralds were at a loss, the lizardmen gathered around the train station suddenly surged forward in unison, as if given a command.

【Quest: March to the northern frontier of Spinor.】

【Reward: 10 Contribution Points】

【Note: The first 100 to arrive receive an extra 100 Contribution Points!】

At the sight of that number, nearly all players held their breath, even suspecting the devs had typed an extra zero.

On the official Catastrophe Online forum, "Contribution Points" no longer merely meant extraordinary power—they had become synonymous with "succubus!"

While the Cambel people were inspired by "Zhong Sheng," Catastrophe Online players were ignited by the legend of "Little Eagle."

Saved 2.5 years of Contribution Points to transform directly from a skeleton into a succubus—this story was too damn tempting—no, inspiring!

The Graveyard players insisted they weren't chasing the fantasy of being a cute girl—they wanted the succubus's starting agility and growth multiplier!

"For my wife! I'm off first, brothers!"

A lizardman with the ID "Windrider" roared, dropped to all fours, and burst forward with astonishing speed like a runaway motorcycle.

"Holy shit! How the hell are your legs so long?!"

The players behind him erupted in chaos.

"Cheater!"

"Damn it, don't pull my tail!"

The lizardmen's "diverse" racial traits were on full display.

Every player received a different random lizardman—even their "stamina bar," shaped by diet, varied greatly.

Those with herbivore traits, though weaker in burst, clearly had superior endurance and soon gained the upper hand in the long run. In contrast, the carnivorous lizards, famed for explosive speed, quickly collapsed, panting heavily.

As for the wild lizardmen from the southwestern swamps, seeing the "Dragonbloods" sprinting north, though unaware of why, they too surged forward in the same direction.

The Cambel Garrison sighed in relief.

They'd nearly rolled cannons onto the walls—now it was clear these guys were allies; they could roll them back.

As this horde kicked up dust, racing toward the northern frontier of Spinor County, Mr. Sak Windrider, riding north in his carriage, calmly arrived at the northern border of Spinor County.

Unlike those noisy "fake lizardmen," this true lizardman from Jiana Continent exuded noble elegance—though all that elegance was learned recently in Lei Ming City from humans.

The carriage wheels rolled over gravel and halted before the central military tent.

Coincidentally, as Sak Windrider stepped down, the dwarf envoy from Gaoshan Kingdom arrived just then.

Sak had barely glanced at the short figures when a booming laugh struck him square on the knee.

"Hah! Look who's here!"

The man was Aliek Earthfist, envoy of Gaoshan Kingdom.

This stout dwarf resembled a bearded barrel, his red nose buried in a braid of thick whiskers.

Upon seeing Sak Windrider, he treated him like a long-lost brother and crushed his thigh in a bone-cracking bear hug.

"Welcome! Warmest welcome! I knew that in this darkest hour, our ancient allies from the First Age—the noble children of the Dragon God—would never be absent! Welcome back to this ancient land! We've missed you so much!"

Sak Windrider, nearly toppled over, stared blankly.

Though he was Guta Kingdom's envoy, his mind held only mush regarding those so-called First Age histories.

Honestly, he didn't even know his ancestors had ever been here—no such thing appeared on the Windroar Tribe's murals.

But remembering the Lord of the Abyss's orders, Sak cleared his throat, smoothed his wrinkled pants, and feigned a deep, nostalgic expression.

"Cough… Of course, Master Aliek. The ancient pact is etched in our blood. Though time flows, our friendship endures like the Sun Stair Mountains—never fading with the years."

Fortunately, this enthusiastic dwarf didn't ask, "Prove it," and simply laughed heartily.

He released his grip and began enthusiastically slapping Sak's scaled thigh, praising his broad wings and thick, powerful tail—clearly a comrade who could tear apart griffins midair.

This excessive enthusiasm made Sak Windrider slightly embarrassed.

Who said dwarves were all stubborn stoneheads?

This guy's tongue was slicker than a human bard's!

What Sak didn't know was that this dwarf with whiskers long enough to braid was even more embarrassed.

Aliek's over-the-top warmth stemmed from ancient dwarf tablets: Dragon God's children adored fluffy things.

For Gaoshan Kingdom's future, he'd swallowed his pride and forced himself to do it!

Who knew Dragon God's children had grown so careless, forgetting every affection they'd learned from the deity?

As both men dug their toes into the ground, the tent flap suddenly parted, and Duke Edward stepped out.

Dressed in full armor, he wore a charming smile and naturally stepped between the two foreign envoys, placing his hands on their shoulders.

"Welcome, Master Aliek Earthfist of Gaoshan Kingdom, and Master Sak Windrider! In this hour of peril, our meeting here must be the will of the gods!"

He skillfully avoided the term "Shengxi," instead using the First Age's common phrasing to bridge the gap between them.

Seeing Duke Edward approach, Aliek Earthfist finally released Sak's toes. He nodded eagerly, his thick beard shaking violently with each motion.

"Indeed, Your Majesty of Cambel! We've heard what those damned rats did in the caves! They treated our human brothers like livestock—this inhuman cruelty is utterly vile! We must unite and solve this problem once and for all!"

Sak Windrider dropped his fake smile and nodded solemnly, his amber vertical pupils gleaming with cold light.

"Queen Aishemata was furious upon hearing this. The shadow of chaos has returned—we will not stand idle! The Guta Kingdom will mobilize one hundred thousand troops to the front. We swear not to spare a single villain!"

He paused, then slowly turned, gazing beyond the camp.

In his line of sight, a convoy of heavy wagons escorted by lizardmen slowly entered the camp, their massive wheels carving deep grooves into the earth.

The cargo on the wagons was bizarre—drawing strange glances from the guards at the gate.

"To deal with these numerous rats, we've prepared some… interesting little devices."

All eyes followed Sak's gaze to the wagons, where each one carried a massive, honeycomb-shaped wooden crate.

From every hole in the crate protruded a gleaming, conical arrowhead—so densely packed they resembled a porcupine in full spines.

Standing at the center of the dwarf envoy, Kuting Copperforge's eyes widened in shock, his expression as if he'd unearthed a corpse.

As a dwarf lord who once fought alongside Ailin in the Dusk Province, he knew this device all too well.

That was the weapon that had appeared on the Salvation Army's battlefield, erasing an entire clan of ten thousand rat folk in an instant!

Qu Ting never imagined this device was the work of the Kingdom of Guta!

Thinking that these lizard folk had been summoned by that Prince Corin, his fear of the imperial prince grew ever deeper.

Just what is this fellow's origin?!

……

As the dwarves of the Kingdom of Gaoshan were stunned by the Kingdom of Guta's unfathomable power, the clan rats hiding deep in the mountains were equally panicked by the enemy's incomprehensible strength.

In less than three days, the rat clans atop Burial Peak had been brutally beaten by a mysterious hand, yet they still hadn't even seen who their enemy was.

Worse still, not only had they failed to identify the enemy, but the Shilaike warlord guarding Burial Peak had vanished without a trace!

This cowardly bastard had run off with his tail between his legs!

And he'd fled right at the start of the battle!

Upon hearing this news, "Soul Shatterer" Mo Ke's nose nearly twisted off in rage; he leapt and screamed in his Flesh Court, erupting in fury.

"Useless trash, all of you useless trash! Not a single one of you is worth a damn!"

This once-arrogant rat chieftain now had none of his usual bluster in front of his children.

His enormous belly trembled violently with each rapid breath, the gurgling sounds of indigestion echoing clearly through the silent hall.

His terrified expression was no act—Mo Ke was genuinely afraid.

Especially after the scout's recent report, which left him gasping for air.

Alongside Campbell's new human army, the border of the Spinor Earldom had also gathered the rat folk's ancient enemies!

"Edgar! Edgar Kaufman! Get out here!"

Mo Ke let out a shrill roar, his voice trembling with hysterical rage.

When the middle-aged human in his robe stepped slowly from the shadows, Mo Ke charged forward without dignity, his grotesque rat face twisted in fury.

"Is this the absolute safety you promised?! The dwarves' iron hammers and humans' firearms are almost at Mo Ke's nose—and now you're adding a bunch of chattering lizards! If I go down, you won't survive either! I'll spill every secret I know! If I die, we all die!"

Spittle flew everywhere, drenching Edgar. This was the immaturity of rat folk—they panicked before things were truly desperate.

Looking at this ugly beast, Professor Edgar Kaufman frowned in disgust, his eyes filled with contempt for the filthy creature.

If not for the pursuit of truth and personal advancement, he'd never have tangled himself with these revolting things.

But he had no choice.

Around the entire Academic Dominion, only the Kingdom of Lain could provide such vast, stable soul sources to test his and his boss's theories.

"Shut up, Mo Ke. Your screaming is louder than a grinding mill."

Calmly cutting off Mo Ke's roar, Edgar adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles, his expression cold and devoid of any human emotion.

"They're just a rabble. The Waren Mountains are treacherous terrain—if you're not stupid enough to open your gates to them, your hidden tunnels and poison gas will wear them down. Don't forget, you still have the alchemical golems we provided, and our friends in the Kingdom of Lain won't stand idle… So what are you afraid of?"

His cold reassurance doused Mo Ke's frenzy—for now—but did not dispel the giant rat's terror.

"Just… a rabble? Are you sure they're only a rabble? Do you think I'm an idiot? The entity that has already descended upon Dusk Province… was driven off by them!"

As he spoke of that entity, Mo Ke's rat teeth trembled, his small, blustering eyes revealing a bone-deep dread.

That was the prototype of Glor the Glutton—

The Ever-Hungry Claw, Ulgos!

The great, unspeakable being had summoned this mercenary from another dimension, only for the unseen deity to swat it away like a fly!

The motion was clean, effortless—like crushing a fly!

That's why the Carrion Clan had cowered in the Waren Mountains after their defeat in Dusk Province.

It was terrifying!

"…Do you need me to spell out this cruel truth, just like I did for Ulgos? That fool's intelligence is determined by the likes of you—bigger bellies than the sky, but no smarter than any rat in this cave!"

Ordinary people feared chaos, but Academic Dominion mages did not—especially those who had truly encountered the Void.

They knew chaos was merely one of many projections from the Void; someday, when they grew powerful enough, they could become one themselves.

Edgar glanced disdainfully at the trembling fat rat, appalled that such diamond-grade power was wasted on this creature.

Giving it to him was a waste.

After calming the unstable rat, Edgar turned and fixed his icy gaze on the shadow in the hall's corner, who had remained silent.

There stood a figure wrapped entirely in a black robe.

He was a high-ranking "Gravekeeper" of the Kingdom of Lain, a trusted aide of Mr. Ma Lusi, and one of the patrons of the Holy Water Project.

"Ultimately, this mess is your Lain people's doing," Edgar's voice carried a cold accusation, "I truly don't understand why you goaded those rats into attacking the humans to the south. Do they look as easy to bully as you?"

The Gravekeeper in the shadow sighed heavily, extending a withered finger to pull down his hood, hiding his weary, ashamed face.

It wasn't because of the phrase "as easy to bully as you"—he didn't consider himself included in that "you."

It was because this truly was a mess.

Academic Dominion mages only cared about research; the Gravekeepers loyal to the Devalu family had to prioritize the royal court's interests.

The problem in Roland City mattered far more to Lain's nobles than the Holy Water Project. They cared nothing for the Void or deities—only for earthly gains.

Without the Spinor Earldom to contain the Campbells, that duke would reach into places he had no right touching.

The Lionheart Knights had already withdrawn from Dusk Province. Mr. Ma Lusi could only play this move for His Majesty—to use the rat folk as pawns in the Waren Mountains, drawing the Academic Dominion into his camp and turning their strength against each other.

But no one anticipated the enemy's response. Before their lackeys even slipped through the window, something utterly unexpected emerged from inside.

As a result, before the Campbells officially moved, a swarm of subterranean spiders and minor demons had already beaten the rat folk on Burial Peak.

This mysterious force had swiftly seized the laboratories around Burial Peak—and destroyed Edgar's avatar left there!

Clearly, the Campbells weren't backed by just one prince; they might even have murky ties to a core family of the Holy City.

The Gravekeeper sighed at this thought.

Perhaps Mr. Ma Lusi should tell His Majesty the truth—but unfortunately, Mr. Ma Lusi himself had his own stake in the Holy Water.

He could only soothe His Majesty with sweet lies, promising impossible wishes to protect his own share… and that was deadly.

Perhaps His Majesty was the true victim.

"I'll think of a solution."

"You'd better hurry!"

Edgar snorted, tossing a copy of the "Leiming City Daily" he'd somehow acquired.

"Thankfully, those stupid reporters only wrote about 'rat conspiracies'—they haven't uncovered any real evidence. If they found out what we're researching, even the Demon God couldn't save us from such blasphemy!"

This was the only thing Edgar was grateful for.

He'd left only a few notes and some raw materials there. Prince Corin's knowledge might detect something, but he'd likely only suspect soul elevation or immortality—not that they were studying the essence of deities.

If they were merely performing evil rituals, as long as they didn't summon chaos or kill too many, the Inquisition wouldn't likely intervene.

After all, this isn't a thousand years ago. The Church's grip on the Old Continent is fading, and the Empire has no interest in non-core matters.

Yet hearing this, Mo Ke—who had just calmed slightly—suddenly screamed again.

Rat folk news always lagged; he still lived in the terror of a thousand years ago, terrified of the Empire's "War of Holy Light."

"What do you mean 'rat conspiracy'? Rats don't have such things! Don't keep blaming everything on Mo Ke! I'm not joking—if I die, we all—"

"Shut up!"

Edgar cast a cold glance; the psychic pressure instantly silenced the brainless giant rat, who scurried back to his throne.

Die together?

Edgar sneered.

You?

Not even the true sages could touch them—only Edgar Kaufman standing here might join you in hell.

Edgar's intolerance for stupidity had reached its peak. Why did other professors study the Void, while he had to play pretend with these "parallel-world lunatics"?

Edgar turned again toward the shadow.

"I'll request reinforcements, but the top-tier fighters must come from you. Academic Dominion professors aren't built for direct combat—the most battle-capable mages have been drafted to the frontlines in the New Continent. The Holy Water we gave you isn't for your parties… you understand me."

"Hmm."

The shadow shifted; the figure had vanished, leaving only a faint trace of deathly aura.

Edgar frowned slightly, then curled his lips into a wry smile.

The Lain Gravekeepers seem ready to go serious.

"Looks like… it might be worth waiting for."