Chapter 37
Brown lines appeared on the elf's face, and his pupils reflected the face that terrified him.
The magical elements beneath him surged, and with a glance, he knew that Veris had activated a new magic circle. Soon, the feeling of weightlessness as space tore apart came.
The surrounding scenery changed drastically, and a dark and damp atmosphere enveloped them, the kind of environment that elves hated most.
A dark red magic circle was engraved in the huge cell, and several black iron chains hung from the ceiling, binding the elf's limbs. His will had completely replaced his original body, and he was now raising his head in a sorry state.
In the dim and dilapidated space, the young man was dressed in a white robe, and the gold medal on his chest gleamed brightly.
He stood upright before the elf, his right hand raised, palm facing upward, with a golden orb of light floating in his palm.
"Ambrose, long time no see," he said, his tone full of laughter.
Ambrose, the god of the earth, is said to govern the land, disasters, and the propagation of life on the continent of Icarus. Among the seven gods, he is one of the few who can manipulate magical elements.
"Are you going to kill me a third time?" Ambrose stared at the young man, a cold smile on his face.
This is no ordinary cell. The black walls are made of some unknown material, and there is not a trace of magic in the space. It was clearly prepared on purpose.
But the red magic circle engraved on the wall... Ambrose glanced at it, his sneer faltering. He abruptly turned his head back, his facial muscles twitching slightly with excitement, and stared at Veris through gritted teeth.
Sylvain, that madman, a psychopath...
“You saw it too.” Veris smiled and followed His gaze, her tone gentle: “That’s Sylvain’s magic circle.”
"To be more precise, it is a magic circle drawn with His power. Many years ago, I built this prison and named it... the Land of Fallen Gods."
Ambrose said coldly, "Gods cannot be completely killed."
Upon hearing this, Veris merely smiled, lowered his eyes, raised his hand, and gently pressed his fingertips onto the floating ball of light in his palm, as if handling some fragile treasure.
His gentle voice reached Ambrose's ears: "Because of everyone's beliefs, right?"
The light sphere flickered, and soft murmurs rang out. Veris's face was illuminated by the light, but he remained in darkness.
Elves have excellent hearing, especially in this empty prison. Even though the murmured words were somewhat indistinct, Ambrose still managed to catch some of the phrases.
His expression grew increasingly grim.
The murmuring stopped, and Veris said to himself, "I am kind-hearted and have not erased the history of the Seven Gods. You should thank me."
Ambrose did not speak.
Veris didn't even look at him, focusing only on the orb of light in his hand, and continued, "As compensation, you shouldn't mind making some changes to the history of the Seven Gods, right?"
This time, Ambrose finally reacted, his anger evident in his eyes: "Despicable and shameless humans! You have claimed all the merits that belong to us and stolen our faith! You will be punished by the gods!"
His voice grew louder and louder until it was almost hoarse, clearly indicating that he was extremely angry.
Veris continued to stroke the orb of light, listening to the accusations with an unchanging smile: "Merit, ah, you do know what merit is and what sin is."
His fingertips paused, and his gaze finally shifted to Ambrose, who seemed to want to kill him with his eyes. His tone was light and airy: "Then why do you gods continue to commit sins?"
"What do you people take life for?"
Upon hearing the last sentence, Ambrose smirked: "You can never become a god. A god would never be bothered by some ants."
"So they're just ants... Indeed, they're things that can be crushed with a single step. Why would a high and mighty god bother with them?" Veris sighed softly. He clasped his hands together, and the ball of light disappeared. A smile returned to his face, the curve of which was exactly the same as the smile from before.
A dark light flickered in his eyes, and his memory seemed to be pulled back to Icarus hundreds of years ago, a time of frequent natural disasters, countless deaths and injuries, war and calamities, and the stench of human corpses filling the wilderness.
Hungry people pounced on it, gnawing on the flesh and bones of their own kind.
The corpses, exposed to the sun for a long time, had long since decomposed and become infested with maggots. The starving people, consuming these flesh and bones, fell ill and soon died in the wilderness, just like the corpses.
It was a drought. Temperatures soared, and the prolonged drought resulted in a complete crop failure. Many people and animals died from the heat, and food became scarce. People who had starved to death were often found lying on the roadside, sprawled on the exposed soil. The stench lingered for a long time, and the corpses still had dry grass in their mouths.
Veris's first adventure was to confront this hell on earth.
He found a boy by the roadside. The boy was about his age. After discovering that the boy was still breathing, he dragged him aside, set up a magic circle to block out smells and sight, and fed the boy water and some food.
At that time, he naively believed that it was caused by a natural disaster.
It was later learned that Ambrose and Yannis had placed a bet out of boredom. Ambrose lost and casually threw the lice carrying the plague onto the continent of Icarus.
Not content with that, Yannis chuckled as he blocked the rain clouds. The two gods observed humanity and other races as they veered from gentleness to anxiety, plagues, droughts, famines, and the deaths of wave after wave of people.
The incident lasted for six months, but its consequences had repercussions for decades to come.
In the long life of a god, it is nothing more than a lost gamble.
Even Ambrose probably forgot what bet they made back then.
Their only concern is whether the Lord of Hell will be displeased if there are too many dead souls.
However, the god of hell had been secluded for over a century, and they had not sensed any sign of his awakening, so they became even more ruthless.
Veris closed his eyes briefly, and those swirling thoughts only floated for two seconds before he opened them again to see His Holiness the Pope, high above all others.
He ruled over the faith of the people on the continent of Icarus, and he cooperated with the royal family for a century, transforming the continent of Icarus into the peaceful place it is today.
Those hellish past events exist only in fragments of ancient books, in the occasional opening remarks of wandering poets, and in the depths of his memory.
He bent down, leaned closer to Ambrose, and whispered, "Do you know how I found out about you?"
“You are very clever. You know that as the Pope, my faith extends to every corner of the continent, and I have eyes and ears everywhere. That’s why I chose to reject the Elven race, who refuse to communicate with the outside world.”
"Unfortunately, the race you cherish most is simply a bunch of unintelligent...beasts."
He straightened up, dusted off his robes, and said calmly, "No one can hide from my restrictions without being detected. You've been hiding for many years, and you've gone along with the matter of the Holy Descendant's replacement. The body you cherish more is the Holy Descendant's, isn't it?"
Ambrose's disguise was almost perfect. He remained dormant within the elf's body, only briefly waking up at certain crucial moments, and quickly severing contact after completing his disruptive tasks.
The fact that the matter of the Holy Descendant could be kept secret for so many years was almost entirely due to the tacit approval of the Elven upper class.
When the final coming-of-age ceremony arrived, the entire elven race gathered in the elven forest to witness the holy descendant's coming of age. However, the elven mother tree malfunctioned, and all of this was still part of Ambrose's plan.
As planned, the Elf King requested the Pope's help. If all went well, the true descendant of the Holy One would be found in a few days, and Pope Veris would help suppress the curse and then send him back to the Elf Forest.
The descendant of the saint, who possesses two bodies, is the one Ambrose will possess.
The body of the elven saint, having passed through Veris's hands, would no longer be questioned; the human body, having been transformed by divinity, would remain undetected unless Veris conducted a thorough search.
The Elven race is a closed-off, self-governing society, and outsiders rarely enter.
Veris said that it was only three days away, which was the three days that Ambrose planned.
The Manlinano Curse is a dark magic that is created by a powerful sorcerer who breaks the curse. The stronger the sorcerer, the faster the curse takes effect. The Manlinano Curse is a dark magic that contains a large amount of dark elements.
It was so obvious; Veris could tell at a glance that the curse was aimed at him.
Centuries later, besides the rebellious magicians of Demon King Forest and a group of demons, there is only one person who can master dark magic: Veris, who has lived from the era of the Seven Gods to the present.
The suppression of the Manlineno curse will take at least three days.
Ambrose's plan was originally without problems.
He maintained only a faint connection with his body to be alert to any potential threats to his divinity; control of his body remained with the original spirit.
The elf happened to be on patrol of the outer edge of the elven forest that night, and Ambrose didn't think much of it when he found out.
Logically speaking, someone of Veris's status would go directly to the Elf King upon arriving in the Elven realm; there's no way he would linger on the outskirts.
The outer perimeter only has an elven magic circle for detecting outsiders.
Veris said with interest, "I placed the restriction on the magic circle. So much time has passed, your body has no idea about such secrets."
"How could a newly awakened deity possibly sense the power of a high-ranking god?"
Ambrose's elaborate disguise did indeed prevent Veris from discovering the problem for over a decade.
Of course, this is also related to the fact that the elves always refuse to communicate with the outside world. Veris is also too lazy to deal with those stubborn elves, so his exploration of the elven forest is much weaker.
But if anything seems amiss, Veris can unravel the mystery and find the source.
This source also made him happy.
“What do you want?” Ambrose stared at him hatefully. “Kill me, and I will be resurrected in hundreds of years. How long can you keep killing me?”
"The goddess of love has been reawakened! Do you intend to kill your mother again—?"
Veris interrupted Him with a smile, asking, "Where is Sylvain's divinity?"
Ambrose scoffed, "Are you kidding me? Every bit of power you use comes from His divinity, and you're asking me where Sylvain's divinity is?"
No sooner had he finished speaking than a sharp pain struck him, and Ambrose's expression changed drastically. Since his divine nature had awakened, he had only been in control of his body for less than a day. Even some minor pains made him pale and his body tremble.
"You, you... Stop! Stop!"
A flash of dark red lightning struck, and the excruciating pain was deeply transmitted to Ambrose's divine core. Ambrose felt his vision blur and every second felt like an eternity in the agony.
It seemed like a long time had passed, or perhaps only a short while, before the excruciating pain stopped, and the dark red lightning flew back into the magic circle.
Veris's voice rang out again: "The divine essence that has been revived a second time is new; don't think I don't know that."
“I said…I said…Sylvain’s divinity…is gone.”
Ambrose's voice was weak, and he no longer had the defiant spirit he had shown earlier. He spoke haltingly.
"Like me, he also found a body, but I don't know where he is."
Veris's cold gaze swept over the elf's body; the lightning only targeted the soul, leaving the elf's body unharmed.
He smiled, said nothing, and left on his own.
The several large-scale spatial tears caused him some headaches, and the massive amount of information he had received earlier made his physical fatigue even more severe.
The moon was still overhead, but it had begun to sink. The stars twinkled, and deep in the southern mountains, there was no trace of human footsteps.
The young man walked through the woods, his figure flickered a few times, and then disappeared from the spot.
Veris's lips were pursed, and his face was paler than usual, completely devoid of color.
He stood in an ancient ruin, a demonic site hidden deep in the Amberley Mountains, a place he had passed by many times but never set foot in.
Perhaps it's an escape, or perhaps it's for some other reason.
The true ruins are in a secluded space, not something any teenager can enter just by falling off a cliff. Layer upon layer of restrictions are intertwined, and ancient magic arrays, though thousands of years old, are still in effect. Any stranger who steps in can be killed instantly.
The air smelled of decay, just as it had when its master left.
This place is more like a small town, with tall city gates made of dark gray stone, carved with reliefs of unknown legends, and uneven surfaces covered in dust.
There are many Eyes of Hell; possessing just one will open the gate to this place.
Veris has been searching for years, also worried that innocent people or those with ill intentions might set foot here. After all, it is the site of a god, and there might be a powerful legacy inside.
With the absence of the divine master, the power that ensures the independence of the ruins is gradually weakening, and the power generated by the spatial rift is infinitely close to that of the continent of Icarus.
In a few decades or a century, those forces will tear through space, dragging innocent people in, and then attracting other powerful beings to come and spy. Over time, this place will become a new place of exploration.
Veris stood before the city gate, gazing at it intently for a long time.
The magic circle that leads into the ruins can reject most outsiders, while the restrictions at the city gate are even more powerful, guarding the proof that the master once existed even many years after his death.
Veris raised his hand and pressed it against his chest; his heart was still beating strongly.
He closed his eyes and sighed, "I really don't like looking for people. If you know what's good for you, you can go into your reincarnated body. You two were originally one."
In the desolate ruins, only his own mutterings could be heard.
Veris muttered something, raised his hand, and a flash of dark red light appeared. The city gate shook, and the reliefs on it seemed to come alive. Under the young man's gaze, the city gate slowly opened.
This place was once a place where sinners were judged and reincarnated.
The city walls were littered with bones, and the souls of the dead clung to them like mud over the years, eventually becoming one with the walls.
Not located on the continent of Icarus, this is a completely isolated space, like an isolated island.
A deity once slept in this place. He rarely communicated with other deities, and the reincarnation of the dead did not require his personal supervision. He was jokingly referred to by Yannis as "the dead god".
There seemed to be something sticky floating in the air. Veris frowned, but didn't pay much attention, assuming it was just something special about the place.
He walked along the road, heading towards the tower at the end of the small town.
The space was completely silent, with only the sound of thick boot soles stepping on the cobblestones. Such an environment would usually evoke fear in people, but for Veris, this place held special significance.
Soon the shadow of a tall tower appeared ahead, and Veris snapped out of his reverie, frowning.
He remembered that the road was quite long, so how did he get there so quickly?
Are there other spatial restrictions?
He looked around warily, but found nothing, only sticky, damp air clinging to his body in layers.
Veris said with some disdain, "You should take a shower when you get back."
He continued forward, reaching the foot of the tower, and felt the air return to normal; the sticky, damp feeling from before no longer enveloped him.
Could it be that the tower isolates the outside air? He stared thoughtfully at the seemingly completely enclosed tower.
There is no door, no entrance. This place was once inhabited by the god of hell, the progenitor of the demon race.
Too much time has passed; the legends surrounding Him had already vanished by the time Veris was born.
Other deities kept their distance from this god, avoiding contact, disturbance, and attention; this was their attitude.
The god, whose entire being was stained with the aura of death, was named Sylvain.
Gods… Veris stood at the foot of the tower, motionless.
He recalled Ambrose's words, looked down at his raised palm, and saw a pink pattern flash across his hand. He irritably closed his palm, forcibly suppressing the surging power.
Just then, he heard a sound coming from inside the tower, like some soft-bodied creature gliding lightly across the ground.
The young man's eyes sharpened as he looked at the tower... Was there something else inside?
He stopped reminiscing about the past, and instead raised his hand. A strange yet familiar power flew out from his palm, and soon a magic circle appeared on the ground.
The moment I stepped on it, the surrounding environment changed. The unknown dark light that had been falling from above was now completely dark.
Veris frowned; this was inside the tower.
Although it appears as a tall tower, its interior is a flat space with a considerable area, indicating that the demon's true form is far larger than one might imagine.
A cluster of flames floated on my hand, illuminating a large area of space.
Veris looked around; it was empty, there was nothing there.
"Has Sylvain been sleeping like this for hundreds of years?" he asked incredulously.
The ground beneath my feet was flat, but I could tell it was made of hard stone. It was a square space, or you could call it a room, and there was nothing there.
There were no treasures, no formations, no restrictions, not even furniture.
Veris fell silent, a silence that was unusual for him.
It seems my friend... really is someone who doesn't have much need for material things.
Where did the sound we just heard come from?
The flames were the only source of light in the area. Veris's brow furrowed, and the faint, sticky scent enveloped the back of his neck once more.
He turned his head and suddenly spoke: "Is it you?"
“Silvan”.
There was only his voice in the room; there was no response.
No objection means consent, Veris thought expressionlessly.
He sighed helplessly, imagining his best friend's remaining consciousness lingering there, and muttered, "That almost gave me a fright."
Veris had expected some furniture inside the tower, but it was completely different from what he had imagined. He looked around and felt a headache coming on.
He hesitated, looking at the ground. Should he put the thing on the ground? ...It felt dirty.
The sticky, humid air returned, cautiously touching Veris's exposed skin. This time, Veris didn't stop it, but instead hesitated.
In the end, I made up my mind.
His hand pressed against his chest, and a dark red magic circle appeared. Pain flashed across his pale face, but it was only a brief pain. The feeling of being ripped away faded as something left.
It was a dark red gem, exactly the same color as Veris's eyes.
Something was surging inside, and an aura of destruction spread out, quickly merging with the place.
Veris breathed a sigh of relief: "It should be safe to keep this in your hideout, right?"
He squatted down and placed the gem on the ground, muttering to himself, "Why isn't there even a table? Even though the divine essence isn't as active as before, it's still so messy to leave it like this on the ground."
"When you come back in the future, won't you feel that this place is too empty?"
The dark red gemstone lay there quietly.
Veris stared at the gem in a daze for a long time. He sniffed, wondering if it was because the air was too humid or something else, but he felt as if his skin was oozing water.
He lowered his head, his magic gathered, and soon the dust on the ground disappeared without a trace.
"You should thank me. Which good friend of yours would come and clean your room so many years after you've been dead?" He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, chin in hand, a wave of exhaustion washing over him, but he didn't want to rest yet.
Perhaps it was because he had been a bard for so long, or perhaps it was the influence of Cupid's personality, but he felt that his emotions were much more intense than before.
For example, in this room that still held the scent of his friends, he felt a long-lost sense of melancholy.
In the unseen void, unknown matter spun around anxiously. The companions no longer fought over who could get close to Veris; instead, they surrounded the youth, carefully rubbing his pale cheeks.
It's time to rest...
You're already exhausted, Veris...
Don't let him go!
【roll! 】
Where is the real body? Where is the real body?!
[Useless!]
In the fractured void, their whispers mingled together, and only they knew what they were saying; the space remained silent.
Over the years, Veris learned to daydream; he could spend an entire day alone in his room, lost in thought.
However, most of the time he would take out those eight coins and ask his friends some strange questions to amuse himself.
The pain in his temples was getting worse. The divine essence that had resided in his body for hundreds of years had been stripped away, and the aftereffects of the power split were more severe than he had imagined.
In the outside world, the sun rises as usual.
Veris didn't sleep all night.
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Author's Note: Veris: Crying at a grave, please don't mention me.
After persistent efforts, I finally obtained the animated avatar after 120 draws.
Do you have any leads, Jinjiang? [shrug]
[Seven Mysteries 9+10]
Gods are not so easy to kill. After killing the divine body, the next step is a battle of divine souls.
On the battlefield at dusk, Veris faced off against the Seven Gods alone.
Sylvain said nothing and committed suicide, giving his divine status and all remaining divine power to Veris before he died.
Cupid was deeply moved, while the other gods were furious: Sylvain, what do you mean?! You can't be so biased!
Cupid, with tears in his eyes, punched his colleague to death and sighed: I've agreed to this marriage.
The colleague who was beaten to death a second time: ...Who can speak up for me?
10.
The unlucky god who was doubly killed by Cupid is the sea god.
It used to be Cupid's neighbor, and was later made into sashimi.
On the battlefield at dusk, He was unfortunately assigned to be next to Cupid.
He didn't understand why Yannis was so resentful; gods would perish sooner or later, so what was there to be angry about?
Before His divinity was destroyed, He was still thinking that in His next resurrection He would definitely stay far away from the God of Love.
As for Sylvain's suicide, He said that Sylvain truly lived up to his reputation as a demon from hell; suicide was very painful, so it would have been better to let Cupid do it, at least Cupid's attack wouldn't be so painful.
Hai (a lazy, unambitious god): We can't beat them, so what's the rush?
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