e-booksonline Chapter 202 Pollution
Chapter 202 Pollution
Chapter 202 Pollution
The moment Cyril saw the eerie, viscous black liquid beneath the tattered skin, his thoughts froze, and a sinister, painful, and malevolent roar inexplicably echoed in his mind.
The sound was like countless invisible tiny mouthparts, constantly gnawing at his spirit.
Beneath the pure white, wide wings, black dots kept appearing on Cyrien's blurry humanoid form, which was composed of colorful starlight and countless transparent wing-like membranes.
But it was quickly assimilated by the dazzling starlight and then disappeared.
Each time a black dot disappears, it adds more knowledge to Cyril's mind.
Some of these are strange techniques like picking locks with wire or digging tunnels with a ladle; others are methods of cursing others using blood, hair, or other such things; and there are even magic potion recipes for "prisoners" and "madmen."
In the silent standoff, the surrounding air became viscous, and spirituality sluggish, almost "frozen."
The soil on the ground, as well as the surrounding weeds and shrubs, were all covered with a layer of colorful, sticky liquid that kept shimmering with starlight, and many strange things grew from it.
It has fine, spiderweb-like blood vessels, bulging, menacing eyes, and a tongue with sharp teeth...
They often explode as soon as they appear, leaving behind pools of viscous liquid resembling colorful ink.
In just a few seconds, the once lush green field was transformed into an overturned palette of colors.
Soon, the wings composed of numerous pure white, illusory feathers disappeared, and Cyril's figure returned to normal. He immediately looked away, refusing to look at the "puppet" that was already half out of control.
In his eyes, a phantom book, slowly turning its pages, appeared.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
As the incantation appeared, he reached out and pulled a sharp, sturdy, heavy, and broad two-handed greatsword from the cold, viscous air.
"Dawn Knight's" "Sword of Dawn"!
Without the slightest hesitation, he knelt down and plunged the newly formed "Sword of Dawn" into the ground in front of him.
The silver-white giant sword then disintegrated, turning into fragments of light like the dawn.
They were densely packed and countless, forming a shimmering and violent hurricane that swept forward, cutting all the shadows and evil spirits within the area into pieces.
The most powerful attack of the "Dawn Knight" is "Light Storm"!
Although the "storm of light" he recreated was only half the power of Father Utravsky's original, it was still an extremely powerful attack.
The moment the sharp silver storm swept over him, the almost out-of-control "puppet" twisted and turned into a palm-sized arcane puppet covered in blood-red thorns, resembling Cyrien in appearance.
"The Source of the Curse!"
Already corrupted and semi-out of control, this "puppet" could no longer rationally restrain itself and directly used the connection established by the corruption on its body to target Cyrien as the object of its curse.
While this connection can synchronize the damage suffered by both parties, it also exacerbates the contamination within him, eventually leading him into an uncontrollable abyss.
But he was already half out of control and seemed to have lost the ability to think rationally about these issues.
As the sharp silver storm swept through, the arcane puppet was instantly slashed open with countless wounds, some deep and some shallow.
In the open space at the center of the "storm of light," Cyril's body, kneeling on the ground, rapidly thinned and brittled, eventually turning into a crudely cut paper figure.
The moment the paper figure appeared, it was torn into pieces no larger than a fingernail by an invisible force.
Cyril's figure appeared not far away, then turned into a paper doll again, which quickly shattered.
He repeated this process three times, until all the "paper dolls" he had "recorded" were used up, before finally getting rid of the "puppet".
A curse upon oneself.
As he lost control, the raging silver storm gradually subsided.
Cyril stood a dozen meters away, looking at the tattered and dilapidated arcane puppet that was no longer sustainable, and let out a soft breath.
...Fortunately, the medium through which he established contact with me was pollution, and the curse that ultimately fell on me has been weakened considerably. It no longer has the characteristic of directly targeting the original body and can be avoided by the "paper doll substitute".
Lost in thought, he suddenly turned his head and reached out his left hand to pinch the air in front of him.
An invisible wave rippled outwards, and then the "puppet" dressed in a black clergyman's robe fell out of thin air.
He collapsed to the ground, like a mummy that had melted in the sun.
Beneath the skin, which resembled a large bundle of woven fabric, liquid shimmering with starlight could no longer be contained and overflowed.
Having confronted Cyril's true nature and used curses to establish a connection, the corruption accumulated within him had reached a point where it was beyond his control.
Under Cyril's gaze, the overflowing liquid, stained with iridescent starlight, began to distort, as if resisting some unseen force.
Under the influence of this force, the surrounding spirituality becomes viscous, almost "solidified," becoming a binding force that is difficult to break free from.
The contamination within him from the "Mother Tree of Desire" is fighting against the contamination from Cyren.
Before the one-sided confrontation completely failed, he finally regained some remaining rationality, and his right hand, wearing a black glove, twitched almost imperceptibly.
The next instant, the colorful starlight emanating from the eerie liquid spilling from his body vanished abruptly, as if it had been transferred out of thin air.
"Um?!"
The sudden turn of events startled Cyril, and then a thick black mist billowed out behind him, forming a pair of illusory bat wings that carried him away.
As he retreated, the "puppet" lying limp on the ground seemed to glance at him before quickly becoming transparent and disappearing from the spot.
Where the other person had disappeared, Cyril saw a black glove lying quietly.
Um... it's not exactly quiet either.
The glove seemed to come alive, its five fingers taking turns stepping on the ground, as if it were cheering and jumping for joy, or as if it were learning to walk.
Seemingly sensing Cyril's gaze, the glove wobbled toward him.
Then it placed its index and middle fingers on the ground like feet, pressed its thumb in front of it, put its little finger behind it, and bent its ring finger on the web of its hand, making an awkward gentleman's bow.
Cyril:
What should I do if I don't want to admit that this abstract thing is the result of my own contamination?
As his thoughts drifted, he suddenly looked up into the distance and saw a presence with a spiritually oppressive aura approaching, and there was more than one.
After hesitating for a moment, he took out a brand new tarot deck from his pocket and placed the cards one by one, either horizontally or vertically, in the spot where the "puppet" had disappeared. In the very center was a Wheel of Fortune card laid flat!
"It's a pity, one more corpse would have made it perfect."
He whispered something, then made the "full moon" that illuminated the surroundings disappear. Afterward, a pair of illusory bat wings formed behind him from thick black mist, giving him an increase in speed.
Noticing Cyril's movements, the strange-looking glove, as if it were a gentleman's glove, leaped towards him, grabbed his coat, and disappeared into the darkness with him.
Shortly after Cyril left, a sudden gust of wind arose high in the sky, causing the tarot cards Cyril had just scattered on the ground to sway as if they were about to be blown away.
Immediately afterwards, Ace Snake, the "Singer of God," wearing a black soft hat, a black robe embroidered with storm symbols, and with unusually serious silver eyes, landed on the ground amidst the raging wind.
Looking at the tarot cards on the ground, which had been moved by the wind, his already serious face darkened.
Five or six seconds later, Horamik Hayden, carrying a jetpack, also arrived.
He also noticed the tarot cards on the ground that had shifted slightly, and calmly inquired:
"Is it the outlaw 'Black Emperor' again?"
"Perhaps, but he didn't stay like he did yesterday."
At 15 Minsk Street, layers of deep blue ripples spread across the bay window in the living room, forming an illusory door.
Cyril's figure flashed past behind the "door" and then quickly appeared in the living room.
Once his figure solidified, he immediately threw the crown in his hand, shaped like a full moon and inlaid with rows of red gemstones, at Klein, who was sitting on the sofa.
"The previously mentioned deal can begin at any time."
"By the way, remember to give the other party a friendly reminder: this thing seems to have a backup plan left by the Rose School. When using it, the Rose School's demigods might be locked into position."
Klein, who had been sitting leisurely, paused slightly and suddenly felt that the thing in his hand was a little hot.
He paused, carefully placed the crown aside, and then asked curiously:
"Is the location only locked when it's used? How did you discover that?"
Cyril shrugged. "Obviously, I've just encountered a demigod from the Rose School."
Klein:.:
"You came to me so quickly to avoid future dangers, and you want to trade it away, right?"
Instead of answering the question, Sirion explained, "Don't worry, that demigod didn't chase after us, and he probably won't have the energy to deal with this matter for the time being."
He paused, his gaze falling on the newspaper that had been turned over on the coffee table in front of Klein.
"The Robin Hood... 'Black Emperor'?"