Chapter 1146: Chapter 938: It Really Hurts, Not a Dream
“Hmm? Is there something?”
A clear voice echoed in the round hall, as a graceful and beautiful figure slowly appeared on the Seat of Sakoxiel.
She wore a long black gauze dress with a skirt embedded with sapphires resembling stars in the galaxy. Her long black hair moved on its own in the absence of wind, and her face was hidden behind a black veil, revealing only eyes like deep purple whirlpools.
The Undead Tribe at the door couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow~”
“Cool~”
“Damn! This is a goddess!”
A chorus of praise resounded continuously.
Even the seasoned Goddess of the Night couldn’t help but smile at such heartfelt admiration… She had no choice, usually, all she received were screams of terror, no matter how beautiful she was.
Even during those rare times she appeared as the Night Dancer, the initial reaction from the Toril people was to flee.
Those who couldn’t run, might be frightened to death on the spot.
Though, even if they showed a bit more bravery, they couldn’t escape their fate of extinction… After all, she was the Goddess of the Night who pursued the destruction of worlds as her eternal quest, and her presence always meant taking enough lives to be meaningful.
Otherwise, like this time… The value of the Seat of Sakoxiel coupled with the Dead Moon Magic Orb was enough to make the proud Goddess of the Night lower herself and initiate action!
Yet Shaer suddenly realized she quite enjoyed this genuine praise… Of course, those who tried to utter inappropriate words and had been silenced by William were punished, so she could simply ignore them.
This unique praise from the Undead Tribe, wasn’t something she needed to completely understand… After all these years, what could Shaer not understand?
Perhaps this was related to her not disliking the Undead Tribe… Since most races on Toril were viewed as parasites by the Lady of the Night, ones that should have been eliminated long ago.
These so-called Teraxil Elves of the Undead Tribe were different; their presence represented William.
Shaer gently swayed her slender, beautiful legs while sitting on the Seat of Sakoxiel, surrounded by dark purple light.
The Dead Moon Magic Orb gently spun in her delicate hand… the black death moon inside it slowly began to turn dark purple.
Lansendel, exceedingly angry, asked, “Did you come here to take advantage?
I kill, you rob?
Is that appropriate?”
“Those two items, besides me, who else can use them? You?” Shaer retorted disdainfully, “With just you, attempting to directly purify the power of the Sorcerer King?
Could you achieve that in less than 50 years?
This whole ordeal will have been returned by then!”
Lansendel angrily flapped his wings, howling, before suddenly realizing: “Why am I holding onto such evil artifacts?
I don’t need them!
Wouldn’t it be best to just send them to be destroyed at the Heavenly Mountain?”
Shaer’s empty hand pointed towards the wall, where the Sorcerer was tightly chained: “You’re barely letting people escape.
What else can you do?
In the short term, can you send these two Divine Artifacts out of Toril?
If not, do you want someone else to help you keep them?
Tsk tsk tsk!
Hill wasn’t good enough for you? Would you pit him against Rose, Bane, and the Tieflings for your whim?”
Lansendel froze… He hadn’t considered any of it.
However, as Shaer pointed out, should he truly take these wicked artifacts away, there was no capability to get them out of Toril… Ultimately, the result would be to entrust Hill with their safekeeping.
After all, once he acted, AO wouldn’t allow him to stay on Toril… Unless there’s more for him to do later.
Yet, knowing AO somewhat well, Lansendel understood that even if he could stay on Toril, he would certainly be commanded to run around… Who knows which day, which place, the Tablets of Fate would unleash a rain of knives?
He didn’t grow wings to be some guide for broken stone slabs!
Besides, he couldn’t place these items in the Tower of the Dawn.
Though his followers had always demonstrated formidable strength, if he wasn’t around, Lansendel lacked the confidence that his followers could withstand the alliance of Rose and Bane, and possibly, the Sorcerer Alliance.
The golden peacock drooped his head in defeat.
Then he suddenly regained his spirit: “How much benefit did you scoop up this time, Shaer?
Why is the old man tolerating you this time?
What did you give up?
Shadow Weave?”
“What does it matter to you?” Shaer said icily, “Aren’t you going to deal with that guy?
If you don’t act soon, he might be made a fool by my soul shock.”
With his head down, Asmodeus suddenly spoke: “Respected Lady of the Night, I wish to reclaim my Soul Force.
In acknowledgment of how the Tieflings have always revered you, spare me.”
Shaer coldly laughed: “Even if I were willing to spare you, how do you plan to handle Lansendel?
Do you really think by being so civil now that we’re truly friends?”
“No, I certainly wouldn’t be that foolish.” Asmodeus replied with a bitter smile, “I understand, it’s simply because of the current circumstances, neither of you wishes to waste your Divine Power in Toril, appearing peaceful… But… I would rather have this body perish under the Light of Dawn than risk harm from your powers.
I cannot withstand the soul pursuit of Shadow Power.”
“Huh?” Lansendel said in a strange tone, “His words, why do they sound so odd?
Is he being sarcastic?
I mean Shaer, you understand these small-time folks best, can you tell me what exactly he wants to say?”
Sitting casually on the throne, Shaer suddenly lashed out at the rambling golden peacock.
The Undead Tribe let out peculiar sounds… The kind of mood that revels in chaos was plain to hear.
Asdimos suddenly looked up… but Lansendel evaded Shaer’s whip with a sly maneuver, muttering ‘Women can’t handle the truth,’ showing no desire to brawl with Shaer.
The Sorcerer was astonished at everything before him; there seemed to be some camaraderie between Lansendel and Shaer! When did that happen? How was it achieved?
Why did they know nothing about it?
Outside the door, Edna sitting atop Elvia looked bewildered, unable to resist asking her friends: “Everything before us is real, right? I’m not under some kind of Illusion Technique, am I?”
Elvia’s front paws scratched at a remaining short wall, feeling the solid stone that no Demon Lord could crush… it felt real… her claws hurt.
She answered tentatively: “It’s quite painful, you’re not dreaming.”