Chapter 32 Modern Warfare

I asked, "Mastering necromancy seems rather convenient. Does this mean one cannot die? If so, I suppose I could reluctantly learn a trick or two."

They all laughed. How detestable. What on earth did I say that was so amusing?

Typhon said, "Do you mean to say Augustus is still alive? He is truly dead. I verified his demise through thoroughly reliable methods; my friend directly obliterated his soul."

Eager to salvage my dignity, I said, "Let us not forget the Pale Bride."

Norris suddenly spoke up, "Regarding her, it is indeed a tragedy." That abominable tumor of his gave me quite a start.

Typhon said, "Then tell us now. We still have some time."

Norris recounted, "After my father, Augustus, assassinated Cappadocia, he had to act with the utmost swiftness, because there were at least three powerhouses within the Cappadocia family. One of them was Malacheni, known as the Pale Lady, renowned for her unfathomable spiritualism. When we raided Cappadocia's sanctuary, we eliminated one powerhouse, while another’s whereabouts remained unknown, leaving only Malacheni.

As long as she lived, the moment our actions were exposed, our operation would escalate into an all-out war. At the time, we were uncertain how the rest of the kindred would react; if mishandled, it would be our own annihilation.

However, my father had long premeditated this, or perhaps it was a twist of fate—the Pale Lady Malacheni had fallen in love with a handsome member of our family. Disregarding the disparity in their status, she intended to marry him in a clandestine ceremony."

I interrupted, "You are all kindred now. Why still adhere to such tedious human formalities?"

Lamia chided playfully, "Even as kindred, she remains a woman. Women always yearn for a romantic and sacred wedding."

The word "nonsense" nearly slipped past my lips, but I swallowed it hard. I had to sorrowfully admit that I was afraid of my wife.

Norris continued, "She was unaware that this secluded, secret wedding was known to us all along, for that brother of our clan had stood by our side from the beginning. Receiving my father's orders, I hurried to the scene to await my opportunity, though Ambrosius had already arrived. Seeing this elder brother present brought me much comfort, as Ambrosius's sorcery far surpassed ours. With him there, we could not possibly fail.

In truth, my worries were entirely redundant; the Pale Lady was already intoxicated by love and completely devoid of vigilance. During the kiss, the bridegroom drove a sharp wooden stake straight into the bride's heart—one of the few weaknesses of the kindred—and she was paralyzed in an instant.

I heard Ambrosius laugh and say, 'Well done.' He immediately cast a spell upon Malacheni, and rings of white bone coiled around her, piercing her skin and flesh. Afterward, Ambrosius declared, 'I have matters of grave importance to interrogate her about. All of you, withdraw!'"

Hearing this, I sneered, "I already know the truth! Ambrosius must have betrayed you and secretly rescued Malacheni."

Typhon remarked, "Indeed, that is quite possible."

Norris paused for a moment before saying, "Who can say for certain? None of us dared to defy Ambrosius. About an hour later, we returned to the chapel and discovered a horrifying scene. That madman Ambrosius had tortured the Pale Lady beyond recognition; her wedding dress was soaked in blood, and only the skin on her cheeks remained intact. Yet by that face, we confirmed she was Malacheni without a doubt.

Procrastination breeds disaster, so we decided to execute her immediately. Everyone present was a master of necromancy, yet we still had to take rigorous precautions to prevent her from escaping via the corpses beneath the earth. We hauled in massive quantities of saltwater, drenching the floor of the chapel so she would have no path of escape."

Chris asked, "Then why didn't you remind us to bring salt earlier?"

Typhon replied, "Even if we had brought it, there was no time to set it up. Ambrosius had already beaten us to it."

Norris resumed, "We placed the brutally tortured Malacheni upon the pyre, and the raging flames began to consume her battered body. Before long, she was reduced to ashes. Everyone present swore she was dead; even for the Pale Lady, survival was an utter impossibility."

Mask interjected, "Did you... did you remove any important items from her? Such as a ring, or a circlet?"

Norris shuddered and said, "Yes, the circlet! It was Ambrosius who lifted the floral crown from her head and handed it to the bridegroom, saying, 'For God's sake, keep this trifle. You have just slain your wife; the least you can do is keep a memento.' The groom was a petty wretch good for nothing save his looks, and Ambrosius's words filled him with furious rage, yet he was utterly helpless."

Mask noted, "It is said that a certain type of sorcery allows one to anchor fragments of the soul to objects. This is not necessarily necromancy, but it demands supreme knowledge and magical power."

A sudden realization struck me, and Lamia and I cried out in unison, "Right! The Statue of the Goddess of Ix! The Three Ix Sisters!"

Norris cried out in alarm, "Exactly! I completely forgot about that floral crown. None of us paid attention—it was Ambrosius..."

Mask observed, "The reason he tortured the Pale Lady and let her blood splatter everywhere was perhaps part of a ritual."

Norris wondered, "Yet why would he help Malacheni? She held immense power among the kindred; if she escaped, our family might face total ruin."

Mask analyzed, "He may not have intended to help her at all, for that floral crown was not some precious artifact, but an ornament found everywhere. It could contain a soul, true, but how much could it hold? I believe it contained only an incomplete fragment, which is why the Pale Bride we saw today was reduced to such a wretched state."

Typhon asked, "Did Ambrosius use the Pale Bride as his weapon?"

Christina deduced, "That madman wants to ascend to godhood, or more likely, he used her to research deeper necromancy. Everything is clear now; they are in league. The Pale Bride is manipulated by Ambrosius."

Typhon stated, "Still, you have severely wounded her. She is no longer a complete kindred, and her recovery will never match our speed. Ambrosius is alone; the two of us can handle him."

Norris promised, "I shall find a way to assist the two of you. Moreover, she will not expect us to locate the place where she hid the Seal Stone."

These kindred held me in absolute disregard. I was a match for Abel, a legend on the streets of Black Coffin, the future ruler of Black Coffin, and the savior of post-apocalyptic humanity. Yet they spoke as though I had no part to play in this whatsoever. This ignited a fire in my belly, driving me to perform brilliantly and force them to look at me with new eyes.

Typhon instructed, "Lamia, Fishbone, the rank-and-file trash are yours."

I chimed in eagerly, "At your command."

Nearing our destination, following our original plan, we parked the vehicle among the mountain rocks, leaving Mask behind while the rest of us approached on foot.

It was a dilapidated bar. For reasons unknown, the generator was still running, illuminating the lights. The dazzling sign was garish, but look around—all one could see were broken walls and the ruins of civilization. The multicolored neon lights flickered like the fires of hell, resembling eerie ghost flames.

I ingested the Eye of Odin and detected ten individuals inside the bar. They were speaking, yet no distinct breathing could be heard. They were kindred, but ordinary kindred were no more troublesome than white demons. In my current state, I could wipe them out single-handedly.

Typhon asked me, "Are you confident you can steal the stone?"

I replied, "Of course. As long as you are generous with your bounty, I'd steal the very balls off their corpses for you."

Typhon said coldly, "I will not pay you a single coin extra. If you refuse, the forty million previously promised will vanish, and you will also lose your own balls."

What an evil female demon she was. Yet why did I vaguely feel she was disproportionately sensitive to the word "balls"?

As I approached the bar, someone shouted, "Rats!" In an instant, a hail of gunfire erupted. I hastily cast Iron Lotus, but the shield shattered almost immediately. I whirled around, unleashed Torrent, and dove behind a broken boulder. They could detect me even while invisible!

Typhon called out, "Those kindred excel at mental detection, Chris."

Suddenly, Christina transformed into a streak of golden light, hurtling through the window. A brilliant flash followed inside, surging like a golden river through the casement. The kindred shrieked like butchered dogs, and silence fell almost as quickly.

Cold sweat drenched my back, for I hadn't even taken out a single cannon fodder grunt.

Chris called out, "Mr. Fishbone, come in and fetch the stone."

The stone floated inside a fishbowl upon the counter, though there were no fish inside. Sensitive to fishbowls, I stared at it cautiously until a black fish suddenly swam out from behind the Seal Stone, turned around, and faced me directly.

Christina asked, "What are you hesitating for?"

She didn't see the fish; what I saw was an illusion.

Typhon and the others were hurrying toward the bar, nearly at the entrance.

The black fish was not looking at me, but rather behind me—at the floor behind my back.

It was giving me a hint. It had sensed something.

The fish had never left; it was now fully awake.

Who on earth are you? When will your riddles find an answer?

Was that answer drawing near?

I looked down and spotted a red glow beneath the floorboards.

Explosives! The floor was packed with explosives!

I yelled, "Explosives!" Instantly unleashing my full array of thought blades, I activated Torrent and blasted outward at top speed. But the explosives detonated, shockwaves of fire bursting everywhere. I grabbed Christina and plunged into the shadows.

Even within the shadows, I felt the violent tremor. Pulling Chris along, I swam forward and anxiously thrust my head upward—fearing for my wife, dreading the sight of the worst-case scenario.

The blast was more staggering than I had imagined, completely transforming the already ruined district into a raging sea of hellfire. In the nick of time, Dead Bell threw himself at the forefront, shielding Wen Ling, Typhon, and Lamia. Though he suffered multiple fractures and severe burns, the astonishing physique of a living corpse kept him "alive." We were separated by the flames.

Typhon shouted, "Is Nana alright?"

I yelled back, "She's doing just fine! I've been blown to pieces, though; perhaps only eighty million in medical expenses will let me catch my breath."

Typhon wore a stony expression. She was truly a miser—so stingy she lacked even a shred of humor.

Lamia coughed and said, "It's thermite. So much thermite bombs!"

Surrounded by flames, we could only hope the Seal Stone hadn't been obliterated, though there was no time to check.

Typhon swung her sword, a gale splitting the flames between us. Christina and I leaped across to their side, and Typhon commanded, "Fishbone, get us out of here."