Carlo stared at the Duke in shock. He had just been wondering where Flame had gone and why he couldn't sense Flame's presence.
Has the flame of emotion already been swallowed up?
Saying he swallowed it isn't accurate. To be precise, Flame was killed by this old man, who then took the power for himself. Although the Abyss does have such abilities, what right does this old man have to claim them?
Carlo fell into deep self-doubt.
He had thought he would see Yanse make a fool of himself, but before he could even get back, he was killed by his own followers. He didn't know whether to laugh, laugh, or laugh.
Carlo pursed his lips, but ultimately couldn't resist the upward curve of his mouth.
"That awful guy is finally dead!"
He was practically cheering and celebrating. Now, without even the Demon King lifting a finger, he was reaping the consequences of his actions. How could this not be a cycle of cause and effect, a fitting retribution?
"But that guy from just now seems to be a flawed product designed to attract attention; he doesn't have any of the Flame Color's strength whatsoever. Now I understand why..."
Carlo stroked his chin, recalling the mountain of corpses that Maggie and the temple's people had just fought, and felt a pang of sorrow.
Meanwhile, unnoticed by anyone, deep within the demon village, the ground had begun to crack, with fissures gradually spreading upwards.
It carried an unsettling atmosphere.
The mutated crystal core inside Maggie's body was also glowing, and the cold was almost comparable to a snowfield. However, because Maggie was currently an undead, she could not feel the temperature change and therefore did not notice it for a while.
The despair within the ice crystals, coupled with the layers of mutations that absorbed various deadly poisons, caused the Ash Bead Crystal Core of the Ash Core to exude an astonishing aura of death.
It far exceeds the death power that a normal undead or lich should possess.
Even the most desolate western continent of the Coral continent seemed to sense this power, which seeped through the earth's crust until that despair reached the western continent.
After an unknown period of silence, the desolate and lifeless western continent, the realm of the dead, was only occasionally graced by ghosts drifting across the wasteland; all that remained were ruins exuding an eerie aura.
The gray and cold-toned western continent trembled at this moment.
The long-dormant spirits awoke from their eternal slumber, feeling a despair that seemed to come from nowhere, pure to the point of being terrifying, as if they were walking alone in the silent night.
It will never end, and there is no moon.
Long, long afterward, he finally ran out of strength and couldn't find a way out. Only darkness accompanied him, and he fell into the deepest silence.
The spirits opened their eyes, and eerie green will-o'-the-wisps flickered and danced in their eye sockets, like voices from the deepest fears, echoing in the desolate gray wilderness.
"Yes, Goddess of the Dead... The Goddess is about to return..."
The dead, emerging from the earth, have their souls flickering with fire, and their empty eye sockets seem to be telling a story.
"Goddess, is she about to rise again? The undead can finally rule the continent..."
Perhaps it was anticipation, perhaps it was excitement.
"The aura of a goddess..."
The strongest undead in the Western Continent awoke from their slumber, feeling the aura of despair, as if they could see the undead once sweeping across the continent, their territory filled with their own.
A celebration for the undead—the Undead Scourge.
"Welcome back our goddess..."
"It's time to go..."
As the sounds faded into the distance, the figures of the deceased also disappeared into the graves, leaving only the coffins in place, waiting for their owners to return.
...
The flames scorched the magically created wind dragon, which completely withstood the dragon's breath thanks to the flames. A large amount of pale green magic dissipated, as if indicating the wind dragon's unwillingness to accept defeat.
Before the final magical creation, the wind dragon, let out a roar, turned its head, gave Maggie a deep look, and then disappeared completely.
The Holy Sword Judgment only left a shallow wound on the Duke, which healed quickly with the help of the ghost fire, leaving no trace.
The meteorites all missed their target, and the Duke, now demonized, resembled a humanoid monster.
Maggie's expression remained unchanged, but she was noticeably colder.
"As expected, you really did target the Hell Servant."
She had suspected this for a long time, but after confirming it herself, she still found the Duke's actions absurd.
Even the servants of hell were used by him as nourishment for the abyss.
The waiter was dead, so he was just temporarily borrowing the power. He wasn't even demonized; he was simply using the power of a demon, not borrowing it.
The original owner has already been completely corrupted by Tartarus.
"Likewise, my daughter, you're no better."
The Duke chuckled twice, as if he had seen right through Maggie's facade.
Will-o'-the-wisps spread from beneath his feet, hurtling toward Maggie with an extraordinary speed that was impossible to dodge. It wasn't just the abyss that could scorch the soul; the will-o'-the-wisps of the fire demons could also do so.
After all, it is one of the methods used to torture renegade believers, and the pain is absolutely unbearable.
Maggie, however, seemed oblivious, her gaze fixed intently on the Duke.
"I am indeed not a good person, but the pot calling the kettle black. Father, your face is so ugly that it disgusts me."
Her killing intent surged, and the crystal core within her body began to operate at full power. An icy aura even emanated from her body, directly freezing the surrounding flames.
The scene was both comical and illogical.
The flames burning fiercely inside the ice, the light shining through the ice, possessed an unusual beauty.
The Duke frowned at the sight, seemingly puzzled by Maggie's sudden change.
"Um?"
Even Maggie only just noticed that her body was frozen, with frost covering her eyebrows and hair, making her look like a completely white ice queen.
"It seems I have a better chance of winning today's match."
Maggie leaned forward, a mocking smile playing on her lips.
She didn't care where it came from, but she could feel her power had obviously increased. If she could only be considered a peak archmage just now, she should now be considered a pseudo-god level existence.
A very absurd, yet perfectly reasonable, possibility popped into her mind.
Could the crystal core inside her body be something like a god?
The thought flashed through Maggie's mind, and she quickly put it out of her mind. After all, they were undead that would never die, so there was no rush to study them anytime.
The mere thought of herself becoming a ghost gave Maggie an indescribable feeling, as if...
She will never be able to interact with living beings or humans again.
"Don't be so smug, my daughter."
The Duke narrowed his eyes and his face turned cold.
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