Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 863 - 168: Hero_3

Also a village that has birthed countless heroes.

They have all met the old man fishing by the lakeside, learning the same skills from him, picking up the sword and shield of a hero, embarking on their adventures.

But the reasons for these adventures have long become vague and unclear.

They were born different, only vaguely feeling that they were assigned an important mission.

Until, one day a millennium later, a young hero named Solan, in his final battle with the Demon King, saw the Holy Mage Ilya from the Imperial Archives use a Teleportation Magic she had seen, intending to teleport both Solan and the Demon King to a place unknown even to her, letting them fend for themselves.

Thus, the first variable since the birth of the "New God" arrived.

The sound from the birdcage reached beyond the edge of the world.

"Perhaps for you, it would be easier if it ended like this."

The old man sighed deeply, and with the infusion of silver-white Magic Power, his body became fainter and fainter, almost to the point of disappearing.

"But unfortunately, this adventure is not yet over."

Solan heard the old man's murmurs echoing in his ears; at this moment, the scent of blood appeared once again. He heard the screams that filled his ears, the swords that were waving were blocked on the other side by barriers constructed from silver-white Magic Power, and his broken body regained strength.

Or, more accurately, a powerful force he had never possessed before.

And he needed neither exploration nor learning to wield it competently.

The battle techniques belonging to the first generation of heroes, along with the earlier memories, were injected into his body.

Just an ordinary swing of the sword swept away the Imperial Army that had surrounded him heavily, the sword's wind forming a hurricane, lifting everyone in front of him into the air, and their silver-white armor shattered under the storm's sweep.

Meanwhile, standing on the Golden Fleet, Henry VI watched all this, his eyes blood-red.

He witnessed his son being beheaded by the hero in front of everyone, yet the hero, who should have been torn to shreds by the Imperial Army, climbed up from the pile of corpses once more, emanating a terrifying silver-white radiance.

He discerned among it a power entirely distinct from the "spark," yet equally formidable.

On the other side...

The red-haired woman like a golden comet darting through the battlefield, from the same clan as Cedric; their battle had long surpassed people's comprehension, and the well-trained Imperial Army, along with their well-equipped firearms, could not intervene in their fight.

This power, and the disastrous influence brought by these rebels, must be crushed in the cradle!

There was no doubt the negative impact brought by this rebellion had far exceeded the Violet Commune Movement.

"Open fire."

Henry VI commanded with a gloomy face.

"But, Your Majesty..."

The Commander of the fleet was drenched in sweat; indeed, when he saw the Eldest Prince die at the rebels' hands, he already sensed things were amiss.

To him, deploying the Golden Fleet was impulsive enough.

This is not a town attacked by the Empire, but the Imperial Capital itself. If the magic weapons aboard the fleet were unleashed, they could level half the city in an instant, inflicting a catastrophic blow to the Empire.

Moreover, the number of Imperial Army outside the prison far outnumbers the rebels. Once the bombardment starts, they will lose thousands of elite Imperial troops, not to mention the Empire's nobles who might not have evacuated in time may suffer as well.

But before the Commander could persuade further, an agonizing pain ripped through his chest.

An incomprehensible force tore open his chest cavity.

He could even see his slashed heart through the wound.

The thud of his body hitting the ground reverberated in the heart of every crew member.

Henry VI raised his voice, repeating the order, "Open fire!"

................

The first to notice the abnormality was Other Shore in the battle's center, the energy amassed by the magic weapons on the Golden Fleet twisted the entire sky.

These people are crazy.

Other Shore couldn't believe Henry VI would truly order the bombardment of the Imperial Capital; she had boarded the Golden Fleet herself, witnessed the magic cannon's might. The beginning of this "otherworldly journey" was them conducting a bombardment on the Empire's outskirts to witness the power of magic weapons and ancient technology.

She could imagine the consequence if so many ships fired together at the ground.

The entire Imperial Capital would instantly become a sea of fire, whether Imperial Army, nobles, or civilians would be reduced to ashes in the bombardment. This was why Other Shore found it unbelievable because to Henry VI and the whole Empire, this was definitely an action of injuring the enemy by one hundred while sacrificing ten thousand oneself.

The only explanation was that after witnessing the Eldest Prince's death, Henry VI had gone insane.

"Why!"

Amidst her thoughts, Cedric, sticking to her like a plaster, came at her once more.

Time after time he fell, yet time after time he climbed up from the pile of bodies and rubble, turning everything around him into weapons, using every possible method, yet never able to touch Other Shore.

A mountain that's insurmountable.

Every time he stood up, this thought only deepened further within him.

Just like now, the lunging spear missed, and before he could take his next action, an immense force struck his chest, sending him flying through several buildings before he finally came to a stop.

This is the change brought by the "spark."

Had it not been for the transformation brought by the "spark," his body would have collapsed in the first few encounters.

But now, after a brief moment of pain, Cedric propped himself up once again.

After dreaming of facing the "Warlord," he encountered another enigma; it took him over a hundred "resurrection" attempts to end the battle in the dream, but this battle imposed an even greater sense of oppression compared to the dream.

"Why haven't you drawn your sword yet!"

Cedric knew Other Shore hadn't used her full potential because she had never once drawn her Knight's Sword.

This filled him with shame.

Holding back on the battlefield is the greatest insult to the weak.

The fist he swung was caught by Other Shore; this time, his body wasn't sent flying like before.

"I am not holding back."

For the first time in this battle, Other Shore answered his question directly, "Your vitality sure is resilient."

She stated truthfully, judging from the devastation left by Cedric when he was sent flying.

With that kind of force, anyone else would have had every single bone in their body shattered by now.

Like a cockroach, his vitality was tenacious, always returning to the battlefield no matter how many times he fell.

But that was all that left an impression on her; she could tell Cedric hadn't undergone systematic training, in this prolonged battle he relied more on his body's instincts.

Once his emotions wavered, his movements would follow suit and lose form.

By now, Other Shore could see Cedric's attacks had fallen into a desperate repetition of getting knocked down and standing back up, perhaps even he himself didn't know why he was doing it.

"In theory, there's no significant animosity between us."

The other hand of Other Shore, which was free, hovered over the hilt at her waist.

She had no concrete reason to kill Cedric; at the beginning, her intention was merely to beat him until he couldn't get up, believing Cedric would realize the gap between them wasn't something sheer tenacity or short-term trickery could overcome.

Her gaze went past Cedric, looking at the Golden Fleet gradually illuminating the night sky.

"Prepare yourself, I am going to draw my sword."

Hearing this, Cedric's eyes focused, instinctively adopting a defensive posture, yet he was still blown away by the surge of energy shooting into the sky.

The golden brilliance tore across the heavens, sweeping through every vessel in an instant.

The sound of explosions connected into a continuous roar in the night sky, as fire lit up the entire heavens.

The residual force of the golden sword mark didn't diminish, cutting a gash in the sky after slicing through the fleet.

In that instant, everyone outside the prison paused in their actions.

All simultaneously looked to the night sky.

Watching the fleet turning into wreckage, falling amidst the flames, and the "wound" on the fleet.

Other Shore's expression turned slightly stern.

She too saw the part hidden behind the wound.

Countless numbers, countless codes, enough to provoke a fear of density.

Above the code, a pristine orb, like a "sun," suspended in this world's sky.

At this very moment, that "sun" opened its eyes, looking down upon this world.