Chapter 270 : Chapter 270
Chapter 270. Dream and Prophecy
That was absolutely not any species of dragon recorded in the present world.
Its colossal body was large enough to blot out the entire sky. The scales covering its body seemed to have been carved inch by inch from the purest Aether crystal, flowing with a suffocating sacred radiance beneath the false sunlight.
Even from a distant glance, the vast and ancient aura that had crossed tens of millions of years pressed down like something tangible.
It merely beat those sky-covering wings at random.
BOOM!
A terrifying storm powerful enough to tear the world apart rose from the ground. The turf was ripped up by its roots, and the clouds were instantly shredded.
That immortal majesty belonging to primordial life, carrying an absolute dominance that could not be looked upon directly, pressed straight into the deepest part of Logaris’s soul.
“ROAR—”
The white dragon traced an incomparably graceful arc through the air. Then it actually turned back downward, carrying a world-destroying momentum as it dove straight toward Logaris.
Logaris instinctively tried to cast a spatial spellwork to evade, only to discover in shock that at some unknown point, his limbs and torso had been tightly bound by countless fine golden threads.
These threads seemed to have emerged from the void. They carried some indescribable power, pinning him firmly in place.
The pupils behind Logaris’s rimless glasses contracted sharply. The obsession and arrogance engraved into his bones were instantly ignited.
You want to bind me? Dream on!
The black-red Hell Power within his body instantly rioted. Logaris’s eyes turned sharp, and along with an ear-grating sound of cracking, he forcibly snapped the golden threads binding him one after another.
However, at the same instant he broke free, the white dragon had already arrived with a roar, crashing into him in a collision he could not avoid.
There was no expected spray of flesh and blood, nor was there the agony of shattered bones.
At the instant of collision, the white dragon’s colossal body transformed into an unbearably dazzling white light. With an overbearing and irresistible force, it forcibly pierced into him and fused into every inch of his body.
His eyes snapped open.
“Hah... hah...” Logaris abruptly sat up, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for breath.
The room was very quiet. Only the crackling sound of burning wood in the fireplace could be heard, yet it could not conceal his heartbeat, which was pounding like a war drum.
The oppressive feeling brought by that inexplicable dream just now had been far too intense.
At the instant the white dragon struck him, not only had it caused him no harm, but it had instead seemed like an incomparably domineering purification spell that completely washed away some invisible haze in his mind.
Logaris casually wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Behind his rimless glasses, his eyes flickered with a cold light of shock and uncertainty.
He unexpectedly discovered that his mind at this moment was incomparably clear—so clear that he instantly recalled every detail he had experienced in the Royal Capital over the past few days.
Immediately after, a hair-raising chill rushed along his spine and straight to the back of his head.
“Mental suggestion...” he murmured, his voice carrying a trace of unbelievable hoarseness.
As a Sixth-Tier Mage, he could not claim to have reached the pinnacle of mental-type spells, but he could still be considered proficient in them. Yet at this moment, Logaris realized that someone had unknowingly placed a mental suggestion on him.
The effect of this kind of spell was extremely shallow. It would not control his behavior, nor would it distort his memories.
It was merely like boiling a frog in warm water, implanting a tiny thought into his mind. It caused him to subconsciously overlook those fatal details without realizing it. It caused him to inexplicably lower his guard at moments when he should have been vigilant.
It was extremely difficult to detect. It was impossible to guard against.
If not for this sudden white dragon dream forcibly washing through his consciousness, he would not even have known that he had already been affected.
When exactly had it happened?
Logaris’s expression darkened until it seemed as though water could drip from it.
At the Privy Council and the Golden Rose Palace, even during the Second Prince’s funeral, that strange thought had indeed appeared several times, yet he had “subconsciously” ignored it each time.
Logaris suddenly threw off the blanket, turned over, and got out of bed. He did not even bother putting on his shoes. Barefoot, he walked to the desk and began frantically searching through all the personal belongings he had brought back from Scream Fortress.
The robe, the count’s seal, even the silver mirror he had found on the insider... none of them were it.
Finally, his gaze locked tightly onto a roll of parchment.
It was the decree stamped with the royal family’s highest golden seal from several days ago, the one that had summoned him back from Scream Fortress to the Royal Capital to receive his title.
A dim-blue analytical light lit up at Logaris’s fingertip and slowly swept across the surface of the parchment. Under his incomparably clear mental perception, he finally caught an extremely obscure trace of spellcasting hidden deep within the patterns of the golden seal, almost perfectly blended into the surrounding environment.
Cold sweat instantly soaked Logaris’s back. The caster was precisely the person who had issued this decree.
His brain began operating frantically at that moment.
If the caster was the actual issuer of the decree, then combined with the intelligence that Conrad, the Minister of Military Affairs, had revealed not long ago at the Nightingale Restaurant—the old king had very likely already been controlled.
Then who was the true power behind the scenes in the Royal Capital now?
Following this logical deduction, a horrifying conclusion slowly surfaced like a floating corpse rising from the bottom of the water.
The caster who had left this obscure trace on the decree and silently placed a mental suggestion on him was the current Prime Minister, Moran.
What did this mean?
It meant that this civil official Prime Minister, who in everyone’s eyes had no mana fluctuations and had climbed to his high position purely through political skill and schemes, was not some ordinary man with no strength to truss a chicken.
He was very likely an extraordinarily well-hidden and terrifyingly powerful Transcendent. Or perhaps, beside him lurked a top-tier mage who had reached the pinnacle of mental-type spells, whose strength was at least sixth-tier, or had even touched the threshold of the seventh tier.
A sense of crisis stabbed into his brain like a sharp icicle. Logaris drew in a cold breath and hurriedly took out that thick black Book of Prophecy from his Storage Space.
His fingertip lightly tapped the cover. The pages turned by themselves without wind and stopped on the latest page.
On the originally blank paper, traces of ink rapidly spread, outlining an extremely delicate sketch.
A magnificent state banquet hall. The long table was filled with silver cutlery. At the center of the banquet, an old man dressed in a pure-white papal robe and holding a scepter was slowly rising to his feet. His finger pointed toward Logaris in his seat, and sacred white light enveloped the entire hall.
Under the illumination of that white light, half of Logaris’s body in the image had already disintegrated into a hideous demonic form. His pitch-black single horn and crimson eyes looked especially glaring beneath the radiance of Holy Light.
A line of cold text appeared below.
【Three days later, at the state banquet. Pope Gregory VII descends and publicly exposes the “Count of Mechanism’s” demonic disguise. The flames of holy war ignite from the Royal Capital, and Astrelia falls into civil war.】