Chapter 207 : Chapter 207
Chapter 207. Guidance, and No Survivors
Over the next month, William almost became Kroll II’s shadow.
From the debates of the morning court to the review of secret letters late into the night, he followed at his father’s side without taking a single step away, absorbing everything about governing the kingdom like a sponge.
Kroll II held nothing back. Not only did he teach William the methods of balancing noble interests, he also slowly unveiled the secrets sealed away in the Royal Family Secret Archives.
“Within the kingdom’s borders, there are seven known Secret Realms.”
One night, deep into the darkness, Kroll II led William into the depths of the Royal Treasury. Facing a stone wall carved full of Runes, he spoke in a low voice.
The lines on the stone wall lit up with a faint glow, and seven flickering points of light appeared.
“But look at these three.”
He pointed at three dim points of light among them.
“They connect to otherworldly spaces, and the energy within them is so violent that it can tear a Domain-Level Powerhouse apart.”
William stared at those points of light. He could vaguely feel a cold, unsettling throb coming from the stone wall.
“Ten years ago, I sent people to investigate them. The moment they opened the rift, an invisible force hurled them back.”
Kroll II’s voice sank.
“Afterward, the Guardians of the Continent sent a warning. Any faction that attempts to forcibly exploit an otherworldly Secret Realm will be erased.”
He withdrew his hand, and the light on the stone wall gradually faded.
“So for now, only these four stable Secret Realms can be used. The ore and magic plants they produce are enough to sustain the Royal Family’s Cultivation Resources.”
William silently committed this to memory. At last, he understood why the kingdom’s high-end combatants could always receive ample supplies.
The news that shocked him even more came from Duke Marcus’s Goblin Secret Realm laboratory.
After the meeting ended that day, Kroll II brought him to a secret workshop beneath the Royal Palace.
The workshop was filled with the sharp, pungent smell of potions. More than a dozen Alchemists were busily gathered around a massive cauldron. Dark-red liquid churned inside the cauldron, giving off an aura that made one’s heart tremble.
“This is Marcus’s achievement.”
Kroll II picked up a crystal tube filled with a red potion. The liquid shook violently inside the tube, striking the walls as though it were alive.
“It can forcibly stimulate a soldier’s berserk attribute. Moreover…” He paused, and a ruthless glint flashed through his eyes. “This berserk state is contagious.”
William took the crystal tube. A scorching sensation came from beneath his fingertips. “Contagious?”
“That is correct.”
A white-bearded Alchemist stepped forward and explained.
“Soldiers who consume the potion will fall into a state of rage. Their roars and blood aura can stimulate their comrades nearby. Even if those comrades have not been injected with the potion, their ferocity will still be awakened, and their combat power will double. But the price is that their reason will be suppressed. They will be even harder to control than traditional Berserkers, until they collapse from exhaustion and die.”
The liquid inside the crystal tube seemed to sense their conversation, churning even more violently.
“The Kadiya Kingdom is not worthy of this thing.”
Kroll II took back the crystal tube, his tone carrying unquestionable resolve.
“But the Orc Kingdom is different. Do those savages not worship brute force?”
“I would like to see whether they can still laugh when they face a horde of ‘madmen’ who feel no pain and only know how to tear and bite.”
He handed the crystal tube to the Alchemist.
“Continue purifying it. Make sure it can be mass-produced on a large scale. Once Kadiya has been dealt with, we will send this ‘great gift’ to the Orc Kingdom.”
William looked at the churning red liquid inside the cauldron, and complicated emotions rose within him.
There was no doubt that this potion was a killing weapon on the battlefield, but it also carried an eerie quality that defied all reason. A contagious berserk state sounded more like an uncontrolled plague.
“Father, this potion…”
“War has no need for mercy.”
Kroll II interrupted him and patted his shoulder.
“When you sit upon the throne, you will understand. Sometimes, only the cruelest methods can win the kingdom the longest peace.”
Sunlight entered through the transom outside the workshop, casting long, narrow patches of light across the floor, yet it could not dispel the chill in the air.
William felt that this potion might bring great trouble to the Kroll Kingdom.
At the same time, in Zu’Aman City of the Barbarian Tribes, the place had completely become a ruin.
Upon the ruins, the stench of blood was now so thick that it could not disperse.
The stone city walls that had once stood there had mostly collapsed. The streets were piled with layer upon layer of corpses. There were human soldiers, orcs, and some twisted remains whose original race could no longer be distinguished.
The ordinary soldiers had already shed the last drop of their blood three days ago.
Those who were fortunate enough not to have died were merely lying in the corpse piles with broken legs, producing hoarse, rattling breaths from their throats as they stared blankly at the gray sky.
They no longer even had the strength to crawl up. Death was only a matter of time.
All who survived were Domain-Level Powerhouses.
The Holy Light Bishop leaned on a broken Holy Sword. The holy mark on his chest was dim and lightless. Every breath he took carried bloody foam, and his white robe had long since been dyed a dark purplish black.
Beside him, the Pope’s phantom flickered in and out of sight. It was clear that he had used a Forbidden Art that burned his Life Force, barely preserving the last trace of breath.
Pandora leaned against half of a broken wall. Her gilded armor had shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and her left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle.
She clutched half a withered Tree of Life Leaf tightly in her arms. It was her final hope, yet at this moment, it could no longer draw out even the slightest trace of life.
Her Domain had long since collapsed. She could only rely on sheer willpower to keep herself from falling.
Mog of the Blackgold Empire was in even worse condition. Half of his body had been corroded into black mist, and the Ten Thousand Souls Bone in his hand had split open with a large crack. The multicolored souls inside shrieked as they tried to rush out, but he locked them down with the last of his Dark Dou Qi.
His eyes were full of blood vessels, yet a mad smile still hung at the corner of his mouth. Even if he had to perish together with them, he would drag someone down with him.
The Orc Shaman from the Northern Continent knelt on the ground. The Totem Pillar before him had broken into three pieces. His beast hide was covered in fragments of organs, and with every incantation he chanted, a wisp of Life Force scattered along with the black smoke.
Only two of the orc powerhouses he had brought remained, and both had lost an arm. They were biting their axes with their teeth, their eyes fierce as they glared at the humans opposite them.
The Demigods had long since withdrawn, leaving only these remnant troops to confront one another upon the ruins.
No one knew when that mass of Impure Divinity had disappeared. Perhaps a certain Demigod had quietly taken it away, or perhaps it had dissipated in the final collision of energy. No one cared anymore.
What sustained them now was only hatred and the instinct to survive.
“Do you still have the strength… to fight?”
Pandora’s voice was as hoarse as a broken gong. She raised her head, swept her gaze over the Bishop and Mog opposite her, then looked toward the two orcs.
“If you want to kill me, then make it quick.”
The Bishop coughed up a mouthful of blood and shook his head.
“If we kill you… we will not survive either.”
He looked toward the distant horizon.
“Reinforcements… will not come.”
Mog suddenly laughed. His laughter was like the mournful cry of a night owl.
“We will not survive? Then… let us all rot here together!”
He abruptly released his hand. The multicolored souls within the Ten Thousand Souls Bone instantly erupted and pounced in every direction. He intended to detonate these souls and make everyone accompany him to hell.
“Madman!” Pandora cursed angrily. She used the last of her strength to throw herself at Mog, and a fragment of the Holy Sword sliced through the air, stabbing straight toward his heart.
The Bishop moved as well. Holy Light condensed into one final spear, aimed at the out-of-control souls.
The orcs let out their last roars and charged forward with their broken axes raised.
Above the ruins, the final glow of energy lit up once more, faint yet tragic.
When the light dispersed, Zu’Aman City fell completely silent.
Only the wind passed through the broken walls and shattered ruins, producing a mournful wail, as though playing the final elegy for this slaughter that no one would remember.
In the distance, scouts of the Kroll Kingdom hid in a mountain hollow, looking at the deathly still ruins as they wrote on a parchment scroll with trembling hands.
“Zu’Aman City. No one survived.”