85: Chapter 81: The Storm Has Passed 85: Chapter 81: The Storm Has Passed “Looks…
indeed nice!”
Swallowing hard, Ian suppressed the ‘desire’ and ‘hunger’ emanating from all over his body.
He could now be certain that the flesh or the pieces of innards in his hand were absolutely valuable, very precious.
In the Foresight View, a chunk of flesh the size of his arm appeared deep purple, and even a hint of light blue aura could be seen flowing at its center…
“Gray, white, blue, purple, green…
Ordinary people, strong individuals, First Energy Level, Second Energy Level, and the Third Energy Level, huh…”
Under the Great Shaman’s control, the Swamp Crocodragon, being a Totem Master, indeed had almost Third Energy Level potential, but it had been unable to recover fully due to a severe injury decades ago, let alone advance any further.
Closing his eyes and shutting off the Foresight View, Ian realized that if he continued to use Spirit Energy, he probably wouldn’t have the strength to make it ho.
“Third Energy Level potential in a powerful totem’s materials, I don’t understand, but my teacher will surely know how to use it.”
Securing the nest-shaped crystal flesh in his bosom, Ian drank so rainwater to recover a bit of his strength, then started walking back toward his ho.
Along the way, he looked around at the badly damaged city and the bodies mixed with pieces of flesh and blood in the mud, sighing softly, “Is this the Terra Continent…
a world where ordinary people live in constant uncertainty of their survival.”
“I need to beco stronger.”
The Redwood Forest battle which lasted over two months had co to an end.
At least, that was the case for him.
On the other side of Harrison Port.
“There’s a problem with the Aether Furnace Core.”
Viscount Grant, who was flung by the Crocodragon’s tail yet remained largely unhard and still at eighty percent condition, did not imdiately pursue the fleeing Totem Master.
Instead, he removed his helt, shook his hair, then turned his head with a serious expression to look at the twisted structure on his armor’s side, “The pressure pipeline is twisted…
then don’t chase.”
As the na implies, Aether Armants are combat armors centered around the Aether Furnace Core, and although so are giant weapons, most are in the form of Armored Clothing to protect their wearers.
Viscount Grant knew very well that even if he disregarded the armor damage to chase, it wouldn’t result in anything—the Aether Armants required Elental Crystals as fuel, and Elental Crystals were rare strategic materials usually distributed by the Imperial Capital to various provincial officials and nobles.
His own stock was very limited, and without support from the Imperial Capital, he wouldn’t be able to fully activate the Aether Armants for a long duration.
Without the Imperial Capital’s resources arriving yet, even if he caught up, he could only continue fighting for about fifteen minutes.
And under the Great Shaman’s manipulation, no matter how injured the Crocodragon was, it could last for at least fifteen minutes; when the ti ca and he no longer had support from the Aether Armants, he would really have to risk his life to hold the opponent.
Why risk life when one can claim a great victory?
Moreover…
It was better for the opponent to be alive.
“Only when such a troubleso foreign enemy exists does Harrison Port beco dispensable…
And only when I can still ensure domination over the Redwood Natives will the Imperial Capital not think the region is corroding and replace soone else to take over the ss.”
“Similarly, only when such a troubleso foreign enemy exists will the Imperial Capital relax so control over resources.”
Lifting his head, the viscount looked in the direction where the Crocodragon had fled, squinting his eyes, “And indeed.”
The middle-aged noble whispered to himself with an icy tone, “They can sense the Key.”
“It seems that the Key I got from the surviving guards was not the only one but one of the several secret keys preserved by the natives.”
Viscount Grant was unaware if the natives knew about the remnants or what they thought of them; he just knew that the natives had keys that could unlock the remnants.
This was a secret once disclosed by a highly respected Shaman among the natives after being captured and fed a truth serum—that in bygone years, the Redwood Tribe was unified, preserving ancestral keys left behind that could open ancient vaults and lead their people to shelter there in tis of crisis.
—Aren’t ancestral vaults simply remnants from a previous era?
Only Old Viscount Grant and a few knights knew this secret, and now, only he and his knight Yamm remained.
“If the Labyrinth forms, the Empire will surely send people to explore and develop it.”
“The conquest of dium to large labyrinths typically requires four to five years or even longer, and the very existence of a labyrinth is a trendous resource spot; to fully exploit it could take well over a decade.”
“I still have a decade or so to prepare…
There’s still ti,”
Viscount Grant shook his head slightly, not believing that the resources and secrets hidden within this relic could allow him to soar to the heavens in one step and beco an independent grand duchy like Steep Ridge Fortress had.
Even if it were possible, he would not do it.
After all, had it not been for the unrest in the Dark Mountain Range to the northwest of Terra, Steep Ridge Fortress would have been eradicated by The Empire long ago, and the Apocalypse Armant would not have been able to help them block the million-strong army.
But, helping them advance further and becoming a hereditary Earl on the frontier of The Empire, a true Southern Earthen Emperor…
that was very possible.
These were all matters for the future.
Viscount Grant set aside the thoughts in his mind and looked around Harrison Port.
At this mont, the city was a ss, many towers had been destroyed, roads and houses had collapsed and sunk in large swaths, subrged by mud and stagnant water.
A city ravaged by Crocodragons was just as desolate, although the northeastern district remained intact, the pri coastal areas were mostly devastated.
The only small comfort was that the port itself was still relatively intact; the fishing industry would certainly take a hit, but with the grain reserves, the city would not plunge into famine after the war.
“After this big storm, the crops for the year are definitely a total loss.”
Even the man who usually restrained his emotions could not help but sigh with worry, “The previous storm had already not been fully recovered from…
now it’s even more troubleso, we can only see if we can buy so food from the north.”
“Fortunately, I made preparations early on, there are enough food reserves to last a month, but people cannot live on salted fish alone.”
There were too many issues to consider after the war, Viscount Grant shook his head, donned his helt, activated the Aether Armant, and prepared to return to the Viscount’s Mansion: “Normal production can only resu next year.”
“We can only be grateful that the Natives suffered even greater losses.”
Humming, although the Aether Furnace Core on his back was a bit sluggish in operation, with the push of steam, the dark blue full-body armored clothing still hovered in mid-air and then disappeared in a flash.
The Viscount’s Mansion.
When Viscount Grant returned, the entire mansion had settled back into stability; under the command of Fiscal Officer Lamar, many guards and servants who had not fled were reorganizing the defences, collecting and properly placing the bodies in the courtyard.
Bodies of their own people were placed in the hall, wiped clean of mud, while the bodies of the Natives were thrown into a corner, to be dealt with in a group later.
“My thanks to all of you, for your hard work,”
The Aether Armant stood nearly four ters tall, making even the nearly 1.9 ters tall Viscount Grant seem small by comparison.
But as the viscount stepped out of the control pod at the front of the armored clothing, and after disconnecting the interface cables at the spine and back of the neck, the huge armor began to transform by itself – accompanied by the sounds of chanical fittings, the empty spaces collapsed, and within seconds, the massive armor folded and condensed into a pale blue tal column nearly the shape of a prism behind the viscount.
Viscount Grant floated this prism behind him with vapor and stepped into the mansion, announcing to everyone, “Our holand withstood the onslaught because of your significant contributions, and you all deserve rewards.”
“After the storm, all those who fought in the city will receive rewards as they are the true brave ones, but you shall receive even more.
Lamar, go to my treasury later; those warriors who were willing to protect my mansion deserve even finer comndations,”
The re presence of the viscount was enough to reassure people, not to ntion that he had shown strength capable of contending with the terrifying Crocodragons of the Natives, just like his father—upon hearing his proclamation, soft cheers rose within the mansion, and Viscount Grant watched the scene with a smile.
Soon, he allocated the upcoming repair and maintenance tasks, then drafted several warriors who still had enough strength to help those districts that had been invaded by the Crocodragon’s Spirit Energy Field and might still have survivors, personally granting them shelter that could withstand the storm and rain.
This action stirred up waves of admiration and sentint; the selected guards felt extrely honored and swore not to betray their lord’s trust, vowing to uphold the spirit of the knight, to save the innocent, and not to abandon any of the residents.
The viscount was neither generous nor stingy; he was rciless, but he also showed the responsibility that a qualified noble should exhibit, just as he didn’t care at all about his ticulously arranged mansion hall becoming a place to display bodies or his garden being trampled and ravaged by the coarse guards.
Even less did he care that, for his own purposes, Harrison Port would remain under the threat of the Natives, as today had shown, with the city damaged and many dead or injured.
He has always cared about very few things.
With the tasks distributed, the viscount went upstairs.
“My dear…
we’re lucky to have you,”
Seeing his Fiscal Officer preparing to go to the treasury to arrange for the later distribution of rewards, Grant sighed with relief.
He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the red-haired beauty from behind: “If it wasn’t for your help in commanding, my mansion would probably have been overrun by those Natives by now,”
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