Chapter 438
Brook shivered, despite the lingering heat. "And it’s a symbol of our failure," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of their responsibility, the knowledge that they had been unable to protect the land, pressed down on them, heavier than any physical blow. The crystal mountain stood as a stark reminder of the Zealots’ power, and the devastating consequences of their unwavering fanaticism.
The change in strength after the Zealot leaders received the blessing of the counterparts, made them feel like they were facing their grandfather who just ascended.
Everyone was at the fifth stage but the difference in strength makes one question if they were in the same stage of strength.
Myrrha, her remaining arm trembling, struggled to parry a blow that sent shockwaves through the very ground. "It’s...it’s like fighting grandfather again," she gasped, her voice laced with disbelief and a touch of fear. Ikem, their grandfather before he ascended always managed to humble them. Now, facing the Zealot, that same awe, that same sense of overwhelming power, was back, but twisted and corrupted.
A faint, ethereal glow emanated from Ash’s hand. "The signal’s sent," he said, his voice strained. "The kingdom knows. Now we just...wait."
Myrrha leaned against Tula, her strength failing. "Wait for what? Another demonstration of their power?"
"For rescue," Ash replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We can’t even fly, let alone teleport in this state."
Across the vast ocean, on the western continent, the scene was eerily similar. The harpy leaders, wings tattered and bloodied, perched on the charred remains of what was once a fertile valley. In its place now lay a vast, dark lake, its surface thick and viscous, writhing with an unsettling sentience.
"By the Great sun," screeched Zeph, one of the harpy leaders, his voice raspy. "That...that thing is mocking us!"