First Seat!
When this title was uttered by the Shadow King, Bologue’s fiery blood turned cold. His eyes were fixed on the figure grasping the Great Scythe, a profound sense of oppression and a chilling aura of death spreading endlessly.
Bologue suddenly felt inexplicably absurd, like a headless fly that stumbled into the strife between legends.
The continuation of war.
This was not just the continuation of a secret war, but also the continuation of the struggle between the First Seat and the Second Seat. Since collaborating with the Order Bureau, Oubos was no longer a restricted area for the King’s Secret Swords. To seize this opportunity to eliminate the root cause, the First Seat personally infiltrated.
Just to slay the Shadow King and correct a mistake.
"No... damn it."
Bologue cursed softly, unable to believe that the First Seat’s secret infiltration was solely to kill the Shadow King. Once the Shadow King dies here, their primary goal would be achieved. Would they then quietly leave with Xilin’s corpse, or... start another secret war?
The fragile mind felt like an overheated processor, with tens of thousands of pieces of information flashing through Bologue’s brain in an instant. He analyzed every possible developnt of the situation from an expert’s perspective, a ga strategist’s view.
Once the Shadow King is dead, the King’s Secret Sword’s biggest internal problem would be resolved. The fractured forces would gradually disappear until this rusty Blade becos sharp once again.
Not to ntion, even if the Order Bureau reached an agreent, the Decision Room had no reason to allow the First Seat to reach such a core area of the Great Rift from any angle.
This feels like the King’s Secret Sword inviting Nesanel to the Pillar of Royal Authority as a guest. Nesanel would likely cut down the King of Slaughter in the process, which aligns entirely with his nature and interests.
The sa goes for the King’s Secret Sword.
"Decision Room, was this a mistake?" Bologue murmured, "Or was this also within your expectations, and if so, what is your true objective?"
Bologue found it increasingly difficult to comprehend the actions of the Decision Room, and he didn’t have ti to question them. He had to make a decision right now.
Should he follow the original plan and let the First Seat kill the Shadow King, or find a way to ensure the Shadow King’s survival, maintaining a balance of power between them?
"The First Seat, Fourth Seat, and as the Sixth Seat, Red Dog..."
Bologue calculated the list in his heart; no one knew whether there were many King’s Secret Swords secretly waiting in reserve outside of Opus.
Thoughts halted, Bologue attempted to activate Secret Energy to seize the initiative, but the Shadow King was faster.
The Shadow King suddenly vanished from where he stood, and a strong sense of crisis surged in Bologue’s heart. The next second, the black Armor appeared in front of Bologue. Blazing fire entwined on the Blade, the Fire Sword was so close that the intense heat scorched his skin, and Bologue could even hear the hiss of evaporating moisture.
"Do not use Secret Energy."
A very low voice entered Bologue’s ear, stopping his initial thought of counterattacking.
"They are not to be trusted."
The voice continued to reach his ears, restricted to this narrow area, while further ranges were drowned out by the climbing roar of flas.
"You..."
Bologue tried to say sothing, but the Fire Sword had already struck his chest. The irresistible force of the Seeker of Glory silenced all sound.
"You know what to do."
The high temperatures burned through Bologue’s clothes, lted the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid and the Armor of Blood. A long wound spread across Bologue’s chest, and the blood was vaporized before it could ooze out. The wound was then cauterized into blackened, charred material.
Bologue’s vision quickly darkened; his eye sockets sunk deeply, his eyeballs evaporated and disappeared, his skin began to wither. Then, like a cannonball, he was violently flung out by the Fire Sword.
Only to see a body engulfed in flas rapidly crash upward, piercing through unknowable layers of ruins, before the sounds of impact gradually ceased.
After dealing with this "nuisance" of a person, the Shadow King slowly turned around, facing the crimson-clad Death God.
Like dealing with an inconsequential person, the First Seat noticed nothing unusual.
The First Seat advanced leisurely, a raspy voice emanating from beneath the hood’s darkness, "Xilin has been dead for so long, what are you still persisting for?"
He appeared imnsely troubled, "Why can’t you just die submissively?"
"Die submissively and hand this world over to you?"
The Shadow King shook his head, his tone resolute, "A double loss is better than letting you win alone."
The sword tip touched the ground, both hands pressed on the hilt. The Shadow King’s seemingly relaxed actions were in fact completely tense. He knew this might be his final bloody battle.
The First Seat was silent for a ti, a faint sigh arose.
"Such a disappointing answer, little brother."
The First Seat lifted the Great Scythe, along with the strange white mist swirling around him, which started to roll out towards the Shadow King, wave after wave.
A fierce wind lifted the crimson robe, revealing the stern tal Armor beneath, densely inlaid with gray-white skulls on the Chest Armor, with black spikes standing erect like they’ve been in the cold for a long ti. A thin layer of frost covered the Armor’s surface, with slight condensation hanging on the spike tips.
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