School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 155 --The Execution Image

Dickens sneered, "Good, prepare to die."

As his words fell, he had already closed the distance to Owen.

Owen, filled with indignation, was in no mood for pleasantries, silently invoking, "[Prophecy] activate."

Suddenly, the entire world seemed to freeze, shifting into monochrome.

Another "Owen" stepped out from Owen’s body, his gaze icy.

He was ready to shock the world.

In the realm of [Prophecy], Dickens was the first to attack.

His body pounced towards Owen like a ferocious tiger, his blade covered in blazing arcanergy.

Owen, calm and composed, was surrounded by a halo of tri-colored energy.

The two collided in an instant, producing a deafening roar.

Dickens’ blade struck Owen hard but was repelled by the layer of tri-colored energy, failing to inflict any damage.

Owen sneered coldly, swinging his hand to release a wave of tri-colored energy directly at Dickens.

Dickens’ pupils shrank as he swiftly dodged.

However, the black energy wave pursued him like a relentless maggot, making it impossible for him to shake off.

Left with no choice, Dickens had to muster all his strength to endure the blow.

The battle intensified, with fists and arcanergy clashing in the air, intertwining and colliding.

Each attack carried the force capable of destroying the heavens and the earth, causing the surrounding ground to tremble continuously.

Seven seconds passed, yet the battle showed no signs of concluding.

Owen understood that as time went on, if [Prophecy] did not evolve, its assistance would diminish.

Even now, facing Dickens, he needed to harness the power of [Prophecy].

This way, he could accumulate a vast number of fate points, rapidly evolving [Prophecy] to aid in his future battles.

Owen observed Dickens’ offensive techniques back and forth, striving to analyze every move and style.

The [Prophecy] realm had become highly intelligent, allowing Owen to navigate through a seven-second clip, sliding the "progress bar" forward, backward, left, and right, repeatedly reviewing the scene.

This was one of the functionalities following the upgrade of [Prophecy].

Owen stroked his chin, his mind stirring slightly.

He imagined Dickens’ attacking arm lifting slightly, a minor adjustment, yet it left his midsection wide open - a clear vulnerability.

Owen’s capacity to alter actions within the [Prophecy] realm was limited.

Such a small change seemed to exhaust all the energy of the [Prophecy] world, causing it to shatter and Owen to snap back to reality.

Dickens, seizing the moment, swung his sword downward, the blade gleaming and moving with incredible speed, like thunder.

Owen conjured a trident in his hands, swiftly dodged downward, and thrust upward with the trident, targeting the exposed midsection of Dickens.

A sense of alarm surged through Dickens, who instinctively rolled away, wrapping his body with his wings.

This was the current flaw of [Prophecy]: Owen’s opponents were all experienced veterans who would change their combat strategy at the slightest hint of something amiss.

Against inexperienced masters, [Prophecy] might fare well, but against seasoned fighters like Dickens, its effectiveness was significantly diminished.

Owen pondered whether [Prophecy] needed a new method of application.

However, that consideration was for later; the immediate priority was the battle at hand.

Dickens managed to evade Owen’s trident attacks through a series of flips, but when the magical runes on the Seastar Trident were activated, a net-like radiance shot out, ensnaring Dickens upon contact.

The "net" instantly tightened around him, trapping Dickens.

He was still able to move freely, but the use of arcanergy within his body was now inhibited.

The Seastar Trident came with a unique tag.

[Seastar Seal: The first person to come into contact with the energy released by the Seastar Trident will be subjected to a thirty-minute prohibition effect.]

The angel race possessed formidable physical bodies, but against Owen, their physical strength was utterly overshadowed.

The sensation of emptiness spreading through his body threw Dickens into panic.

Owen, seizing the moment, launched a barrage of punches, allowing no opportunity for resistance.

Dickens’ cries of agony went unanswered; no one dared to provoke an enraged dragon.

Owen grasped Dickens, his hand pulsing with arcanergy, brutally infusing golden holy light into his body.

Dickens’ skin began to dry out, as if deprived of moisture and nutrients, cracking open.

This transformation wasn’t limited to his skin; his muscles, bones, and even internal organs started to wither.

His body grew increasingly frail, resembling a tree rapidly drying out after being drained of all sustenance.

Dickens’ eyes lost all their luster, becoming desiccated and protruding grotesquely from their sockets.

In Owen’s hand, a misty, irregular sphere appeared, containing red liquid that seemed to swirl like a dragon, with a miniature Dickens at its center.

He frantically pounded against the invisible, transparent walls enclosing him.

The onlookers realized that Owen had drawn out Dickens’ life force, blood, and soul.

This act bore no difference from dark sorcery!

The crowd gasped, stepping back in horror.

Owen, separating his wrists, swept his hand towards the sky, allowing golden, fragrant blood to float in the air.

Before the blood could fall, Owen tossed the misty sphere upwards.

As the sphere touched the golden blood, the atmosphere transformed dramatically.

The sky dimmed suddenly, covered in dense clouds as if the whole world was enveloped in shadows.

A powerful sense of oppression descended from the heavens, suffocating all living beings.

The colors of the world seemed to freeze at that moment, with the heavy clouds rolling, engulfing the entire horizon.

An oppressive mood pervaded the air, instilling an indescribable panic in all creatures.

Suddenly, a crack appeared in the clouds, and a dazzling beam of light broke through, illuminating the entire sky.

Then, a deafening roar of a dragon tore through the silence, as if heralding the arrival of a miraculous sign.

As the dragon’s roar echoed, a massive rift opened in the sky, as if the boundary between reality and the mystical realm was forcibly torn apart.

From within that rift, the head of a gigantic dragon slowly emerged, its scales shimmering with a profound gold, each one seemingly imbued with the radiance of the sun.

Its eyes, like two burning orbs, exuded an ancient and majestic aura.

The appearance of the dragon caused everyone present to tremble involuntarily, while many stood frozen, unsure of what entity Owen had summoned.

However, an even more shocking scene unfolded immediately after.

Behind the gigantic dragon, an angel with pristine white wings was bound by an invisible force, unable to struggle, and was slowly brought before the dragon.

The angel knelt in front of the dragon, his face filled with horror, bearing an identical resemblance to Dickens.

The onlookers were stunned.

"Is this...is this meant to be an execution?"

"What is Owen doing?"

"Such a high-profile action?"

The angel’s face was etched with incredible shock and a frenzy of hysteria, his wings limply drooping, his halo of sanctity dimmed and lifeless.

He seemed to want to speak, but an irresistible force silenced him.

The dragon lowered its head, gazing down at the angel with a glint of judgment in its eyes.

A dragon’s roar emitted from its mouth, and astonishingly, everyone present understood the message in the roar:

"Let it be known to all, the dragons execute."

Then, it opened its massive mouth, releasing a burst of dazzling light that enveloped the angel.

The angel, subjected to the dragon’s execution, let out a final cry.

The sound pierced through the clouds, heart-wrenching, filled with endless pain and despair. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"No! I will not accept this!"

The angel’s voice, full of shock and panic, his body gradually dissolving in the brilliant light, like a wax figure meeting fire, powerless to resist the force erasing him.

His wings flapped wildly, yet he couldn’t break free from the bonds, each movement so feeble and futile.

All that responded to him was the dragon’s indifferent gaze and ruthless judgment.

The angel’s figure grew increasingly blurred, his cries weakening, until they turned into a sigh, dissipating in the wind.

An image of execution was indelibly etched into the sky, backed by the blood-red Arabic numeral "2."

Someone murmured, "Owen is countering the angel race in such a manner; is he truly not afraid of provoking their wrath?"

"Action and reaction are the norms of courtesy; Owen is truly brave."

"What will be the consequences of this?"

The consequences arrived swiftly.

The Arabic numeral that had hung for eight days without any change suddenly began to tremble, and a scent of blood pervaded the air.

The "2" melted rapidly like a red candle, soon transforming into droplets of blood that scattered across the sky, then quickly coalesced and solidified.

It finally morphed into "3:00:00."

Someone asked, "What does this mean?"

As the question was posed, the number in the sky changed to "2:59:59."

No one answered, but it was clear what it meant.

Only three hours remained, just three hours until the grand battle between the dragons and the angel race would commence.

Owen, staring at the countdown in the sky, scoffed, "Playing god."

He landed on the ground and said to Erin, "Are you coming home with me?"

The journey back was bound to be anything but peaceful.