Chapter 692 Cruel Sacrifice
Overwhelmed by pain, chilled to the bone, and cloaked in the weight of humiliation, Lucien finds himself descending into the icy embrace of the ocean depths.
His limbs, feeling as though encased in an unyielding glacier, tremble, the aftermath of a tumultuous shockwave of untamed mana.
His thoughts, once clear as day, are now a swirling fog, the aftermath of a powerful mental blow that echoes within his skull, leaving his sight blurred to the point where all he can discern is a crimson streak darting across the heavens, in pursuit of an ominous shadow.
"Are we done like this, Lust?" Still reeling from the impact, Lucien leans on the support of his most unwavering ally, hoping her wisdom can cut through his disorientation.
"NO!" Her fervent declaration reverberates within his consciousness. "Yes, we were caught unawares by that onslaught, but you possess the strength to rise again, to battle anew!"
"But my sisters..." The worry for his kin hinders his focus on recovery.
"They're recovering. Minor injuries, nothing more. Sophia's seen to their care," Lust reassures.
"Ah, a relief..." Lucien sighs, closing his eyes, willing his shattered confidence to reform.
And he does not stand alone in this endeavor. The raw, pulsating force of demonic energy, flowing from the multitudes of Mermaids, floods into him, reinvigorating him, with an unending surge to follow.
"They don't view me with disdain now, do they?" He queries, fearing the Mermaids' faith in him may have faltered in light of his defeat.
Yet, far from his fears, their confidence in him only strengthens, fueled by their unwavering belief in his inevitable rise, his return to the battleground.
His body responds to their faith, the abundant life energy within his being accelerating the healing of his wounds. And the moment he can command his limbs again, he flaps his wings with renewed vigor, stronger than ever before.
With a mighty *WHOOSH* and an earth-shattering *BOOM*, Lucien emerges from the water, a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Emerging from the ocean depths like a beam of dawn's first light piercing through the remnants of a frigid night, Lucien readies himself to rejoin the fray.
His keen eyes catch sight of his sisters regrouping at his flank, while above, Maya, a celestial inferno, unleashes colossal orbs of fire upon Tyrion.
Yet the formidable Naga King wards off her fiery barrage with a formidable shield of obsidian barriers, which, though scorched by the pure, searing flames of the Phoenix, are abundant in number, providing him an ironclad defense as he reunites with his ally, Tanu.
"Lucien?!" Nea's voice, laced with anxiety, reaches his ears, punctuating the sea of concern reverberating from his other spouses.
"Are you unscathed?" Dismissing her worry for him, he turns his attention to her, aware of the immense energy she had expended in shielding the Mermaid populace from the enemy onslaught.
"Yes, yet..." The hint of regret in Nea's gaze is unmistakable. "I should've been at your side, battling against our adversary."
"You were precisely where you were needed most," he reassures her with a smile, extending a hand towards the stunning Mermaid Queen. "Now, let's bring down this tyrant together."
With a nod, Nea gracefully ascends to join him, her grip firm on his hand, a display that further emboldens the Mermaids below and ignites a surge of confidence within him.
In the icy caress of Nea's touch, Lucien senses a vital warmth radiating, spurring him to survey the battlefield anew.
The vista before him is grotesque—following Tyrion's brutal onslaught, thousands of Naga soldiers lay lifeless, their blood tinging the seas below a morbid hue of crimson.
Yet that same vicious maneuver has bifurcated the battlefield into three distinct sectors, causing the units stationed a mile behind Tyrion to retreat further, thereby temporarily suspending their assault on the Mermaid stronghold.
As Nea ascended to join Lucien against Tyrion, the graceful Mermaid Princess assumed command of the forces, who, still surging with the intoxicating sinful aura, dispatched their foes with ease.
Centerstage on the battlefield, Tyrion and Tanu hunkered down under the relentless barrage of Maya's pyroclastic onslaught.
"We must strike now!" Lucien's grip tightened around his golden naginata, as Oya, the wind beneath his wings, swooped in to ferry her beloved Master towards the fray.
"Hold on!" Greed's figure materialized before Lucien, her features etched with worry. "We can't simply charge headlong towards him once more."
"And why not??" Wrath and Donna's queries harmonize.
"Because we cannot withstand another onslaught of such magnitude??" Envy retorts, her voice drenched in sarcasm.
"We would drain ourselves creating shields," Gluttony pragmatically chimes in.
"Could he reproduce such a destructive onslaught?" Eve muses, voicing her concern aloud.
"I wouldn't put it past him..." Sloth's words hang heavy in the air.
"So, what's our move??" Lucien's question rings out, his blood simmering with the urge to launch himself at Tyrion. Not one to meticulously plot his steps, Lucien preferred to follow his instinct and act on the fly.
Before a plan could coalesce among the group, Lucien presses on. "We must capitalize on Maya's suppressive fire and... wait-"
His keen eyes notice that Tyrion, ensconced behind his multitudes of dark mana shields, is purely on the defensive. This deviation from the usual aggressive stance causes Lucien to feel a spark of unease.
"Why is he hiding??" Lucien doesn't stop to think and instead charges towards the enemy, mounted on Oya.
"Lucien is right, Tyrion is up to something!" Pride is the first to follow him.
Wrath and Donna also quickly join Lucien, as well as Amelia, Naomi, Claire, and even Eve, who join the offensive without hesitation.
Sophia always supports Lucien, but as her close combat skills are lacking, she remains on standby with her large magical bow and ready to use her life mana to heal her siblings.
But Sloth, Greed, and Nea have concerned and thoughtful expressions as they look towards Tyrion's direction.
"Thinking won't help now, we have to act!" Nea doesn't want to regret not being by Lucien's side again, so she quickly follows him.
But before any of them can pass through those walls of dark energy, Maya's attacks penetrate Tyrion's defenses.
In fact, it is he who stops creating more layers of defense, and before the group can wonder why, they all see Maya's flames hit a thin and perfect green barrier.
Within the protective green bubble, Tyrion holds Tanu's neck with one hand and a piece of tree bark with the other.
"A fragment of the sacred Naga tree!!" Lust quickly exclaims.
Lucien has Oya stop in the middle of the offensive as he recalls Mira's words about the sacred tree of her people, the Tree of Protection.
"This was the gift of the Water Spirit to our people... allowing our race to flourish in the depths of the ocean, even amidst unimaginable dangers... and no enemy has ever breached our barrier."
Lucien stops, but Wrath and Donna don't and strike the barrier with their colossal weapons.
*Thud*
A muffled, unsatisfying sound hangs in the air as Wrath's ethereal weapons barely graze the surface of the green barrier.
"WHAT?!?" Donna and the other women reel in shock, staggered by the barrier's impenetrable strength.
Yet, what other choice do they have? Leaving Tyrion to his machinations behind the shield is unacceptable. Thus, they redouble their efforts, battering the barrier with renewed vigor.
"Blast it!" Lucien, too, wields his golden naginata, attacking the verdant blockade. However, their efforts are in vain; the defenses remain unyielding, impervious to their onslaught.
Nea's gaze sweeps towards Crystal City, scanning for the Naga Queen. "Can't Mira assist us with this? Surely the sacred tree of her people would heed her command?"
Lust offers a somber shake of her head. "Tyrion has tainted the tree with his dark magic for countless years... While Mira and Kamala might pass through the green barrier, they can no longer direct it to open with Tyrion present."
"Our question shouldn't be how we can overcome this barrier..." Sloth interjects, her gaze riveted on Tyrion and Tanu within the shield. "But rather, what are they plotting in there?"
The scene within the barrier does not bode well for Tanu; the cunning Siren's regrets surge to a crescendo as tears streak down her face, her feeble attempts to escape Tyrion's vice-like grip proving futile.
"My K- arrgh- My- My King!?!" Her words are choked as he ruthlessly tightens his grip around her neck.
Tyrion's eyes gleam like black jewels, a crystallization of pure malevolence and avarice. "You understand we have no other recourse, Tanu."
"No... no... this is a travesty," she manages to gasp, every word a struggle.
Yet, there is no shred of mercy in Tyrion's gaze. "Our adversaries have exceeded our estimations... I cannot vanquish them in this feeble form."
"This won't succeed." Tanu strives to dissuade Tyrion. "Dark magic always demands a toll, and the more potency you seek to draw, the steeper the price..."
A crueler gleam still flares in Tyrion's eyes, a vile smile tugs at his lips. "You are the price, my devoted servant."
Tanu feels a fool for not anticipating such a course of events, but how could she fathom that the one she entered a soul contract with would so ruthlessly sacrifice her?
A soul contract with a demon is akin to a double-edged sword; while she is compelled to support her partner unwaveringly, he cannot intentionally harm her.
Yet, the dark magic Tyrion has wielded for countless years has twisted his psyche, and he now firmly believes that sacrificing Tanu and siphoning her power in a nefarious ritual is in both their interests.
"Only then can we triumph over our foes, Tanu..." Those chilling words are the final sounds the Siren hears before her partner abruptly snaps her neck.
*CRACK*
The gruesome sound of her bones shattering prefaces a bizarre spectacle, as Tanu's ebony lifeblood doesn't heed the laws of gravity, instead flowing in a corrupted, twisted stream directly into Tyrion's mouth.
His jaws gaping wide, he draws in all the dark energy from the Siren. Grotesque tendrils soon begin to materialize within the green shield, cocooning the merciless Naga King until his form is wholly obscured from sight.
"Damn!" Sloth hisses, grasping the nature of the unholy ritual Tyrion has embarked upon.
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