Chapitre 61: Natural Habits
A similar scene unfolded in the icy expanse of the Northern Continent.
Guy Crimson, the mighty Primordial Red, had conjured his most formidable shield, but it could only protect a small area.
When the arrow struck, it shattered his defenses, reducing his body to near destruction.
His once loyal subordinates lay scattered, their powerful magic insufficient against the overwhelming force.
Misery and Rain, although Primordials like Guy, suffered severe injuries. They lay in crumpled heaps, their essence barely clinging to the remnants of their forms.
Velzard, the Ice Dragon, stood amidst the devastation, her injuries grievous but not insurmountable.
Her dragon factor granted her a resilience that even Guy envied.
She grimaced, feeling the sting of her wounds but already beginning to heal.
Despite her regenerative abilities, the attack had left her weakened, the force of the impact a testament to the sheer power of Charybdis's assault.
Guy, his body barely holding together, managed to lift his head, surveying the desolate landscape.
His crimson eyes, usually filled with a fiery confidence, now reflected a smoldering rage.
He had underestimated his opponent, and the cost had been high.
His once indomitable form was now a patchwork of broken flesh and seared bone, held together by sheer willpower.
Misery and Rain, despite their grievous injuries, crawled towards Guy, their faces etched with pain and determination.
"Lord Guy," Misery rasped, her voice barely audible. "We...we need to regroup."
Rain, clutching her side where there was barely anything ledt of her flesh, nodded in agreement. "This...this is beyond anything we've faced."
Guy nodded weakly, his strength slowly returning. "I know. "
As the chilling winds swept across the frozen wasteland, carrying the scent of devastation, both Guy and his subordinates knew that this was only the beginning.
Their adversary had made a bold move, but they would not be easily defeated they were primordials for crying out loud.
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The town of Babel, named after the dungeon it housed, was in chaos.
The adventurers who had ventured into the dungeon had all died unexpectedly, reminiscent of the dungeon break centuries ago that devastated human kingdoms.
The news of the seven heroes' deaths spread rapidly, instilling fear on this era that human have grown accustomed .
One month after the initial panic, in a bustling tavern within Babel, people were discussing the incidents.
The air was thick with anxiety and speculation.
"Did you hear? All the adventurers in the dungeon are dead!" a man exclaimed, his voice trembling.
"It's just like the dungeon break from centuries ago," another muttered, eyes wide with fear. "Are we headed for another disaster?"
"And the seven heroes... They're gone too," a woman added, her tone somber. "What does this mean for us?"
"Does this mean the era of peace is ending?" a young man asked, his fear evident.
The tavern fell silent as a woman dressed as a witch stood up, swaying slightly.
She appeared drunk, but her voice was clear and commanding. "War is just the preparation for peace," she proclaimed loudly.
The patrons turned to her, intrigued and apprehensive.
"You humans," she continued, her tone dripping with contempt and disgust at the people around her , "you aren't even worth being called humans. In fact, you're not even worth being called subhumans. Most races at least accept their general nature, but you... you are a disgrace."
A burly man near the bar, his face red with anger clearly drunk, stood up. "Watch your mouth, witch. You don't know what you're talking about."
The witch smirked, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.
"Oh, but I do. Humans have always craved war. It's in your nature. You seek power, control, and dominance. You cloak it in noble causes, but at the end of the day, you are nothing more than beasts pretending to be civilized."
"Shut up!" the man roared, lunging at her.
She sidestepped gracefully, using her mug to stun him, by hitting the wooden mug on his head.
He staggered back, rage twisting his features as he grabbed a chair and swung it at her.
Though it was useless as with a wave of her hand, the man's skin began to slough off, transforming him into a grotesque mix of dog and aquatic animal.
The room erupted into chaos, patrons shouting and scrambling to get away from the monstrosity.
The witch looked down at the transformed man with disdain. "Look at this. A perfect example of what you really are. Pieces of shit who have devolved into something even worse than beasts."
The man's cries of agony filled the room, but her speech was cut short.
Suddenly, the tavern shook, and a blinding light filled the room as Charybdis's attack and the subsequent thundering arrow lit up the sky.
The witch fell to her butt in awe, her mocking words forgotten as she stared at the spectacle a smile of childlike amazement on her face.
The townsfolk, now more terrified than ever, looked outside to see the night turn into day as the arrow split into three parts, each heading towards its devastating destinations.
The chaos in the tavern was now mirrored by the chaos in the town, the fear of war now a looming reality.
The fiery explosion's light bathed the town of Babel, casting long shadows and a crimson hue over its cobblestone streets.
The roar was deafening, a sound so fierce it seemed to split the sky.
In the aftermath, the townspeople were left in various states of fear and awe.
One mother clutched her child tightly to her chest, her own heart pounding as she whispered reassurances to the trembling little one.
"It's alright, darling. It's alright," she murmured, though her own eyes betrayed the fear she couldn't completely hide.
Others were not so composed.
A man fell to his knees, shaking his head as he muttered, "What kind of force... what kind of power could do this?" His voice trembled with a fear that many around him shared.
People stumbled, some collapsing in sheer terror, their minds unable to fathom any force capable of saving them from such a display of destruction.
Amidst this chaos, a witch stood apart from the rest, her grin widening as the explosion's light flickered across her face.
Her robe slipped from her shoulders, revealing a symbol on her chest—a dragon with three eyes and fins.
This was no ordinary tattoo but the sacred mark of the Dragon followers, a religion devoted to Charybdis, the Immortal Queen.
The ink was a potent mix of concentrated magic and bits of the seven scales bestowed by their deity.
As a high-ranking member, the witch's tattoo was of the purest form, unlike the diluted versions worn by ordinary followers.
Recently, every member had felt a surge in their holy magic, the bond with their goddess growing stronger and feeding back an energizing loop of power.
Their goal, hidden from the general populace, was to replace humanity with the descendants of their god and to create a world purged of creatures they deemed agents of chaos and suffering—humans.
This was not a small sect.
The Dragon followers were the only religion with adherents in every country, even in Ruberios, and their congregation included members from all races.
Their influence was vast and growing, their faith unshakeable.
The witch, reveling in the chaos, muttered to herself, "This is just the beginning. Our goddess has shown her true power. Soon, the world will be cleansed, and we shall be its rightful inheritors."
As the townsfolk stared at the burning sky, the witch felt a surge of pride and purpose.
To her, the explosion was a divine sign, a testament to Charybdis's power and their righteous mission.
The era of peace was ending, but for the Dragon followers, it heralded the dawn of a new, purer world.
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Stones and Reviews
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone