Azure Scepter

Page 78

In that instant, Edith made up her mind.

"Courage!" she cried out her vow, then abandoned all defensive stance, gripped her sword with both hands, and charged headlong into the fire demon.

At the same time, Fythia's voice came from behind: "Edith! Don't worry about me, let's go!"

Ignoring her best friend's calls, Edith quickened her pace.

The temperature soared rapidly, and the cold mountain rocks hissed before turning into scalding lava. The coffins around her were set ablaze, and the ground became sticky and soft under the intense heat.

It might be too late, but Edith did not hesitate at all—she always hated waiting passively and preferred to fight fast and slow. Faced with this situation, she would rather die on the way to the charge.

The constraints and frustrations she had endured for months in the southern duchy had now transformed into unwavering courage.

"Leave it to me, Your Highness."

Suddenly, a cold and unfamiliar female voice rang in her ears.

Eh?

Edith was taken aback.

Before the cold female voice had even finished speaking, a holy light suddenly filled the entire tomb. In the pure white flash, Edith felt as if she had been suddenly covered with layer upon layer of thick blankets—the "protective flames" cast by a high-ranking priest!

The next moment, the fire demon exploded.

In an instant, all the light seemed to be blocked by the intense light of the explosion, and everything suddenly dimmed. The blinding black light spot expanded and swelled into a black wave of flame within milliseconds. The invisible shock wave swallowed all the sound, and everything around fell into a silent deathly stillness.

The protective shield against the flames didn't even last half a second. In an instant, the transparent shield cracked with countless tiny, spiderweb-like cracks, and within half a breath, the thick shield completely collapsed!

Edith felt her cloak billowing high in the scorching shockwave, and her scabbard, made of red copper dragon leather, became extremely hot. Her face trembled under the force of the impact.

Despite the overwhelming waves of flames rushing towards her, the princess remained remarkably calm. At that moment, her mind was filled with stories and dramas about sacrifice that she had read.

At this moment, in Edith's sublime delusion, the wave of flames was no longer simply a wave of flames generated by the self-destruction of the Balrog, but the dragon with the shattered neck that attacked the Water Fairy Queen in the final scene of "Sir Crusoe's Search for the Water Fairy Queen", the Holy Judgment Sword that was stabbed at the Vampire Maid in the final scene of "The Vampire Maid and the Necromancer", and the Disintegration spell that the King shot at the Princess in "The Drunken Moon"!

And she, Edith Lorinman, is no longer just an isolated and helpless individual; at this moment, she is the embodiment of all the victims in the story.

She is Sir Kruso, who fought to the death to protect the Water Fairy Queen; she is Rhoal, the legendary sorcerer who willingly allowed his vampire lover to bite his neck and drain his blood without resistance in order to heal his lover's fatal wound; she is also Brandon, the gentleman thief who was willing to be beheaded by the king to save the imprisoned princess!

Staring directly at the horrific explosion, the princess's blood boiled. The story and reality intertwined, and a surge of youthful exuberance and a noble sense of sacrifice shone through her. She couldn't help but shout out the classic line from "Drunken Moon," and then resolutely swung her sword with all her might towards the explosion: "I will protect you forever, Futia, that's my oath!"

"Get down quickly, I have cover, I'm really okay! Get out of the way! Hurry!" Futia's anxious voice was almost on the verge of tears.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment—

Suddenly, a silver-haired figure appeared out of thin air and stood in front of Edith without hesitation.

The figure was breathtakingly beautiful, like a lovely nymph fairy who had stepped out of a story illustration. The bursting flames gilded her with a faint, shimmering golden light, making her appear pure and sacred, like the soul of an ancestor.

She reached out and grasped the princess's wrist as she held the sword. Her pale, slender fingers were surprisingly strong, and her glossy nails resembled those of the most exquisite doll.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Noy said with a smile.

Edith realized that the voice was the same female voice that had just cast the "protective flame" on her.

Half a breath later, a wave of flames swept in, instantly turning the nymph-like beautiful priest into ashes, while the impact and heat of the incineration explosion completely dissipated on the spot.

The scalding hot ashes hit Edith's face; it was both hot and painful.

She touched her face in a daze.

PS: Only one update today.

Chapter 156 Binding Spirits

Edith stood there, staring blankly at the ashes scattering in the air like dandelion seeds, and felt a heavy weight on her chest, as if a large stone had been placed on it.

After a long while, Edith's brain, which had been frozen in shock, finally started working stiffly again, like a rusty gear.

"She... saved me?" Edith murmured to herself. "She died to save me..."

The princess reached out, futilely grasping at the scalding ashes in the air, as if trying to find the mysterious woman who had saved her. She managed to hold onto some of the ashes, but in the blink of an eye, they slipped through her fingers like flowing sand. Only when the last grain of ashes disappeared like dust eroded by the tide did she finally come to her senses.

In an instant, she returned to reality.

Shock, worry, regret, and self-blame washed over her like a turbid tide. Although the heat from the melting rocks around her burned her face, Edith felt as if she were immersed in cold water from head to toe, her hands and feet were ice cold.

"If I hadn't rushed forward, would she really be dead?" Edith questioned herself inwardly. "Radiance, I killed her..."

"If only I could do it all over again..."

At that moment, cheers erupted from outside the collapsed mountain, signaling the complete end of the battle outside. Shouts such as "Long live Edith!" and "Long live the princess!" drifted into the mountain with the rain, but Edith felt as if the large hole in the mountain above her head acted as a thick curtain, isolating her from the commotion outside.

Feeling light as a feather with no foothold, Edith turned her head and looked at her best friend Futia for help.

Fatiah's face was deathly pale, whether from blood loss or from her agitation, it was hard to tell. She remained silent, and if it weren't for the trembling of her deep blue eyes, Edith would have mistaken her for a stone statue in a tomb.

After a long while, the elf spoke softly in a weak, hesitant voice, "Noi, although you're not exactly a good..."

"Although what?"

A gentle voice suddenly rang out from Edith in front of Edith.

She looked up, the refreshing scent of citrus invigorating her senses. A few strands of silver hair brushed against her cheeks in the breeze, causing a slight tickle.

Edith blinked incredulously.

—The silver-haired woman, as beautiful as a nymph fairy, suddenly reappeared before her!

She's not dead?!

Surprised, Edith subconsciously began to observe the other person's clothing.

The other person was dressed as a clergy member of the Church of Radiance, wearing black round-toed leather boots; the heavy black pleated skirt, like a velvet curtain, swept to the ground at the edge of the boots; around her neck hung a mithril-plated acanthus emblem, and below her neck was a three-layered silver-embroidered collar, a distinctive feature of high-ranking clergy members of the Church of Radiance.

The three overlapping collars indicate that she is at the sixth level of the Radiant Church's ascension to sainthood, namely the priesthood, while the silver embroidery signifies that she is in the probationary phase and is only one step away from becoming a bishop.

This is a very high-ranking divine spellcaster, Edith thought. Such a person must be extremely famous.

Noy...Noy...Noy Hall?

Edith instantly understood the other person's identity: the other person was Noy Hall, a student of Bishop Vercingetorie, the high priest of the Rendingfang Valley region, and the second daughter of the illustrious Hall family in the Southern Duchy.

But why is she here? Hasn't Rifttooth Valley already fallen?

Suddenly, an idea flashed through Edith's mind—Trill was also exiled to the Rendingtooth Valley region, and Trill had appeared in Beavertown, so Noy might have been in Beavertown at the time.

"You're surprised to see me?" Noi blinked, her red eyes as intoxicating as fine red wine. "Fodia, were you just trying to thank me?"

"No way!" Faucia immediately denied it. "I didn't say anything, absolutely, absolutely not!"

Edith noticed that the elf's pale face had turned red again, and even the tips of her pointed ears were bright red.

“A hasty denial will only arouse suspicion,” Noy said as he walked past Edith. “Everyone has known you’re not being honest all along. Thank you, Feudia.”

Her steps were so light that there were no footprints.

Edith was stunned again—not only were there no footprints in Noy, but the mixed fragrance of rosemary and citrus also carried a faint, almost imperceptible scent of negative energy.

An outrageous and terrifying conjecture surfaced in Edith's mind: perhaps the high priest before him was not a living person.

She slowly turned her head and stared at Noi's face, which was so beautiful it seemed unreal. A golden iris was tucked into the end of Noi's silver hair, and the edges of the iris had black scorch marks.

At this moment, Edith felt her heart skip a beat. There was no doubt that Noy was the spirit binder, and what worried her even more was that as a paladin, she should be able to sense the undead around her naturally, but this instinct was not working.

Furthermore, why was Noy able to retain his sanity? Who exactly turned a devout high-ranking priest into a ghost?

As if by divine intervention, Edith slightly raised her eyelids, and her eyes met Noy's ruby-like eyes.

Noy's lips curled into a playful smile: "Your Highness, let me guess, are you trying to ask me if I am... a spirit binder?"

Can she read my thoughts?

Although she was startled, the princess merely nodded slightly and placed her fingers back on the sword hilt.

“Don’t be nervous, I cannot read your thoughts.” Noi’s voice was soft, like the mist under the moon. “It’s just that your actions have given away your thoughts—I am indeed a spirit binder.”

Edith subconsciously loosened her fingers from the hilt of the sword.

The next moment, Noi conjured a lady's fan out of thin air with her left hand. She covered her face and chuckled softly, her laughter ethereal and melodious: "This is evolution. I was able to save you from the flames and escape unscathed, all thanks to this. By the way, I didn't know you were guessing that I was a spirit binder just now, but I'm quite sure you were thinking that just now. Your Highness, you are really adorable."

The spirit binder seemed unconcerned about her identity as a ghost; on the contrary, she was very candid, which left Edith, who always considered herself a moral exemplar, speechless.

At this moment, Edith realized that the other party's attire had changed. The other party was wearing chainmail when blocking the explosion, but now it had changed into a priest's long dress.

"boom."

Suddenly, a dull thud of a heavy object falling to the ground came from not far away, accompanied by the sound of metal colliding.

Edith turned her head and then saw a shadow on the wall in the firelight.

A calm and gentle male voice then rang out, a voice that seemed to possess a strange, calming magic: "Fodia! I'm so glad you're alright..."

Undoubtedly, the speaker was Trill, the hero who saved Beaver Town.

The next moment, something else happened that surprised Edith again.

The usually stubborn Fythia no longer concealed her surprise and delight. Without using any roundabout words to embellish her feelings, she replied directly, "I thought I'd never see you again..."

As Fythia's best friend, Edith knew Fythia's personality very well. She was always tough on the outside but soft on the inside, and always used harsh and aggressive words to hide her kindness. The reason she did that was because she wanted to use barbed words to hide her weakness, just like a wounded little girl always tries to cover her scars by crying.

At this moment, Futia's eyes were already misty, and a crystal-clear tear clung to her long eyelashes. She reached out and grabbed the scorching rock, seemingly trying to stand up, but she was severely injured and naturally failed.

Edith suddenly felt a strange sense of loss: How long had Fythea known Trier? Why were Fythea and Trier so close in such a short time than Fythea and Trier were to each other?

"Don't move, I'm coming right away." As the voice echoed, the shadow on the wall grew larger and larger, but the shadow looked somewhat sinister and distorted.

Although a vague unease lingered in her heart, Princess Edith still looked towards the corner with considerable anticipation.

She was genuinely curious about the kind of person who was the hero who saved Beaver Town, the person who caused Futia to behave so strangely, and the person who could directly counter the succubus.

Curiosity and anticipation burned within her like flames, making her feel a little itchy.

P.S.: This is a recap of yesterday's post; today's post will follow later.

Chapter 157 Shared Interests

As she waited in anticipation, her mind began to wander.

What will Trier look like? Will he have a long white beard like the wizard of the North in Pocahontas? Or will he wear a monocle like Brandon, the well-dressed gentleman thief in Drunken Moon? Or will he have a face covered in crisscrossing scars like the brutal but cunning pirate ship in Blood Sails?

“Edith, you are a paladin, the heir to the kingdom. Think more about the teachings of your father and teachers, use reason more, and indulge in less wishful thinking.” Edith admonished herself inwardly. “Trier has a special identity. He is the key to you breaking through the conspiracy shrouding the southern duchy. In any case, you must not leave him with a bad impression.”

"Uh, should I put on a stern face and act more mature and dignified, or should I be more poised and generous? Or, since we're both paladins, should I just give him a Radiant Church salute?"

As Edith pondered the matter, she felt a headache coming on. Finally, she took a deep breath and made up her mind: she should just take it one step at a time.

"Thud." A pair of boots covered in dust and blood stepped onto the dark gray ground of the tomb. Edith looked up and felt a chill run down her spine, her emerald green pupils contracting involuntarily.

—Terre was completely different from the glamorous image she had imagined!

Trier was covered in blood, the dried blood congealing on his armor, turning it an unsettling dark red.

As he walked, he brazenly scanned his surroundings with his cold eyes, his gaze radiating an inexplicable, inhuman horror. Behind him, he even trailed a long, illusory cloak made of countless shrieking souls twisted together. With each step he took, the dense skulls on the cloak emitted chilling screams.

The moment Trier appeared, the already low air pressure seemed to be hit by a typhoon, and it dropped even lower in a moment. The gloomy night and stormy scene behind him looked like a negative energy plane against his backdrop, and he was a demon who stepped into the prime material plane to harvest the souls of mortals.

Edith felt her hair stand on end. She recognized the spell on Trill's body as the extremely blasphemous and profound spell, "Higher Domain of Decay".

To be fair, Edith thought Trill looked even more terrifying than the Balrog. His cold, inscrutable gaze made Edith very uncomfortable. If it weren't for the holy emblem he wore, she would have even suspected that he was an ancient lich disguised as a victim.

In an instant, Edith's mind exploded as if a dye bottle had been shattered.

"Why would the hero of Beaver Town be like this..." she thought to herself, "He looks way too much like a villain..."

He wasn't like the wise and reliable wizard in *A Winter's Tale*, but rather the taciturn, blasphemous polar lich; not like the polite gentleman thief in *Drunken Moon*, but rather the evil duke who poisoned the old king, usurped the throne, and imprisoned the princess; not like the heroic captain in *Black Sails*, but rather the devil who enjoyed skinning and cannibalizing people...

The princess blinked, then caught sight of the spirit bound, who was as beautiful as a nymph.

Edith, known for her intelligence, quickly pieced together countless clues in her mind within half a breath—Noy had been enslaved by necromancy; Trier's magical abilities were sufficient to counter powerful succubi, and he seemed unafraid to use blasphemous spells; Noy and Trier had always been together...

Edith narrowed her eyes slightly, and she instantly realized that the person who turned Noy into a spirit was Trill.

At this moment, all the excitement and anticipation in her heart, as well as her goodwill towards the hero, vanished into thin air, and alarm bells rang in her mind.

—As Granny Lor once said, those who use necromancy for a long time will inevitably be corrupted by negative energy and the winds of death during their spellcasting, and thus it is inevitable that they will turn to evil.

Those who oppose evil are not necessarily good people, because evil itself can also oppose evil. Evil disguised as good is the most dangerous and terrifying. And if evil itself can even disguise itself as a paladin, then the level of terror is simply unheard of!

Suddenly, Edith realized that Trier's position was very unusual—he was standing between her and the spear stuck in the ground.

Is this just a coincidence? Or is he trying to cause trouble?

The princess's vigilance intensified, and she unconsciously gripped the hilt of the holy sword in her hand. The warm touch gave her a glimmer of courage, like a firefly.

The next moment, she was surprised to see that Trier let out a long sigh of relief upon seeing Fythia, and the oppressive atmosphere that had enveloped the entire tomb chamber dissipated considerably. Trier quickly walked to Fythia, slowly squatted down, and then carefully extended his left hand.

His fingertips shimmered with a holy light, a familiar and solemn gleam that struck Edith with a sense of absurdity.