476 Calamity Giant
Count Poufer charged through the tempest, battling fierce winds, drenching rain, and bolts of lightning. Meanwhile, the Pixie in the distinctive blue beret—the overseer of the Hostel, positioned near the shroud of darkness around Salle de Bal Brise—took advantage of the moment and slipped through the enigmatic iron-colored door.
Fully aware of the peril awaiting her inside, she felt compelled by the will of a deity. Even the prospect of death didn’t daunt her. It would only earn her the deity’s favor and a return to the eternal realm of fantasy.
Regrettably, upon her arrival, she found herself suspended in the midst of the raging storm, amidst smoke and flames.
The colossal figure was clearly reflected in her eyes.
It resembled a horrifying charred giant, its once-fleshy exterior now absent. The charred metal skeleton, engulfed in blazing purple flames, formed what seemed like an intact body, but cracks riddled its structure. Continuously emanating illusory symbols—lightning, hail, fog—the majestic purple flames and the iron-black metal skeleton held inscrutable knowledge, representing countless real phenomena.
Drip, drip. Blood-hued, magma-like pus oozed from the cracks, transforming into black purple flames and various weather phenomena midair.
Witnessing this, the Pixie in the blue beret combusted from within.
Instinctive fear flashed in her eyes as she desperately reached into the void, entering an intangible state.
Yet, her physical form did not change for the better.
With a swift whoosh, every cell in the Pixie’s being ignited, including the translucent dragonfly-like wings on her back.
After enduring agonizing contortions, she metamorphosed into a Pixie crafted from crimson flames. Lifeless eyes stared out from her now-empty gaze.
Within the fiery dragonfly wings, the altered Pixie danced around the giant’s figure, as if escorting him.
Rumble!
Count Poufer was struck by bolts of lightning, and nearby, purple flames erupted.
Drenched in the relentless rain, enduring hailstones that battered him until he bled, he persevered through the thick smoke.
Perhaps due to the Sauron family’s bloodline coursing through him, he remained unaffected by the surrounding chaos.
As the smoke cleared and the storm abated, Poufer eagerly gazed at the towering giant, dozens of meters tall.
Within the iron-black skull and amidst the purple flames, a distorted face of pain intermittently flickered.
The face bore some resemblance to Poufer, except its eyes, weathered and blood-black, were deathly still and vacant.
Upon spotting the giant, Count Poufer also ignited in flames.
Excruciating pain wracked him, yet his gaze remained fixed on the giant’s face.
Amidst the encircling purple flames, faces filled with venom, hatred, and madness, as if cursing all living beings, alternated. Men and women, bearing a resemblance to both the giant and Count Poufer, emerged on the surface of withered hearts floating in the flames.
Poufer glimpsed the family’s forebears from the oil paintings. Despite the difficulty, his mouth curled up, his face contorted by the flames.
In the turmoil, he transformed into a flaming pixie as well. However, instead of circling the rampaging giant, he was drawn by his family’s bloodline into the perilous purple flames on the iron-black head, into Vermonda’s face that flickered in and out.
In an instant, the two fused.
Vermonda’s mouth twitched, a hint of liveliness in his eyes.
He opened his mouth and let out a scream filled with destructive desire and madness.
With this scream, the ground, scorched by the purple flames, shook dramatically, and earth puppets crawled out.
These puppets—equally tall at three to four meters tall, charred with an iron hue—were speckled with dark-red blood.
Transforming as they squirmed, the earth puppets became soldiers, guarding the area with a semblance of life.
Almost simultaneously, a fiery meteor descended from the heavens.
Streaking across the sky, it plummeted towards the edge of the fog.
Bang!
A figure emerged amidst the meteorite-like crash and ensuing tremors, standing upright.
It was Snarner Einhorn, adorned in iron-black, blood-stained armor.
The 1.8-meter-tall Angel, with long dark-red hair and flamboyant earrings, didn’t hesitate. His body expanded, unveiling a Mythical Creature form reminiscent of Vermonda Sauron’s current state.
It was a giant, a representation of calamity, crafted from flames and various symbolic elements.
…
Under the silent blaze of invisible flames in the sky, across the wilderness, Pualis de Roquefort, draped in an elegant black dress and a veiled hat, fixed her gaze on the majestic city not far away.
She didn’t get her husband, butler, and children to enter the Hostel. Instead, she arranged for them to temporarily depart Trier and reside in a suburban town beyond the city wall.
After a brief survey, Madame Pualis turned her attention to the man merely 20 to 30 meters away.
Despite appearing in his fifties, his dense blond hair showed only slight traces of gray, and his lake-blue eyes were clear.
Neatly encircling his mouth, the beard framed his unusually deep facial features. It was evident he had been a handsome man in his youth.
He was the Circle Inhabitant of the Sinners, Voisin Sanson!
Roche Louis Sanson’s father.
Madame Pualis shifted her gaze back to the seemingly boundless city, sensing an inexplicable calling from somewhere. It was gradually contracting and expanding, akin to the embrace of a long-forgotten mother.
She took a step forward.
…
Franca hadn’t anticipated encountering Gardner Martin immediately upon exiting the mirror world.
As an undercover agent for both the Tarot Club and the Demoness Sect, she felt a twinge of guilt instinctively. The urge to casually greet him with a “what a coincidence” surfaced subconsciously. However, she was no longer the naive rookie from her initial transmigration. Her worldly and combat experiences ranked among the elite in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. Swiftly reacting, she yelled at Anthony Reid, “Duck,” and, turning invisible, lunged to the side.
Almost simultaneously, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of blazing white fireballs materialized around Gardner Martin. His eyes were profound, body clad in silver armor, as the fireballs howled and erupted at the previous location of Franca and Anthony Reid.
Anthony, his gaze fixed on General Philip’s black-cloaked figure, heard Franca’s warning, “duck,” echoing in his ears.
Experienced, though unsure of what to expect, he followed his teammate’s advice. Adjusting his body mid-air, he kicked down with both feet, hurtling toward General Philip without picking a side.
Amidst the explosive chaos, General Philip was astonished to find a slightly greasy middle-aged man in military-green camouflage clothing glaring at him with hatred, launching towards him.
Does he hold a grudge against me? Philip wondered, his eyes darkening as focus slipped away.
He “saw” a myriad of intertwined fates and discerned the threads’ approximate origins.
So, you’re a survivor of the sacrificial company… Lucky enough to escape back then, and now you dare return for revenge? General Philip sneered with disdain.
As a Sequence 5 Reaper of the Hunter pathway, he made the decision to put his faith in the great Goddess of Fate and receive the corresponding boon. This choice stemmed from his firsthand recognition of the limitations and issues within his original pathway in the mysticism domain, along with the impending apocalypse he couldn’t avoid.
His aim was clear—to swiftly ascend to demigod status, securing the protection of a mighty existence to endure the impending apocalypse. Ordinary channels simply couldn’t provide him with what he needed.
Despite the initial weaknesses and constraints of the Goddess of Fate’s pathway, he accepted it without hesitation.
It was worth noting that the boon corresponding to Sequence 9, Dreamless, merely granted him a dreamless state and the ability to sense the flow of fate. Consequently, he forfeited the potential of gaining revelations through his spirituality via dreams.
Sequence 8 Musicians were a slight improvement. In certain worlds, Musicians often blinded themselves to enhance their focus on the voice of fate before playing it like a symphony. However, this method demanded extensive preparation and sufficient time to orchestrate the tune in order to influence a target’s fate.
As for Sequence 7 Fate Pryers, they shared essential similarities with Seers. However, unlike Seers, they didn’t require a medium to directly perceive or hear the revelations of fate.
By Sequence 6, the bestowed of the Goddess of Fate finally acquired relatively potent abilities. Those who glimpsed fate could convey it and directly impact a target, but each usage came with a significant drawback—a self-imposed silence lasting for an extended period.
This Sequence was known as Mute.
Only after faking his death and breaking free from his original fate did the Sequence 5 Deceased no longer bear the previous restrictions. They could now function relatively normally.
As a dual Sequence 5, General Philip unraveled the threads of fate, discerning the origin of Anthony Reid’s animosity. He chuckled, releasing a voice that seemed confined for an eternity.
“Fate can’t be avoided. You’ll ultimately end up as my sacrifice.”
Amidst these words and the explosive tumult, Anthony Reid’s mind replayed the harrowing scene of the camp attack, causing him to break out into a tremble.
Thud! He landed on the ground and clutched his head in fear.
Not far away, concealed behind a half-collapsed grayish-white stone pillar, Lumian and Jenna both heard Franca’s urgent cry to “duck.”
Franca has entered too? How did she do it? Lumian wondered, a sense of alarm coursing through him.
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