AWB Chapter 472 The Archbishop's Duty in the Faction of Flames and Burning
Chapter 472 The Archbishop's Duty in the Faction of Flames and Burning
"whee……"
A clear, childlike laugh suddenly broke the deathly silence. The laughter was innocent and pure, yet it possessed a chilling, penetrating power that pierced directly into the depths of every living being's mind.
"The stone golems are fighting...it looks so fun!"
The direction from which the sound came rippled through the space like water. A figure hopped and skipped out.
He was a little boy who looked no more than seven or eight years old. He had short, dark red hair, like embers from a fire, sticking up in a messy, unruly manner. His skin was sickly pale, as if he had never seen the sun.
He was wearing an oversized, dark red velvet robe, the hem of which trailed on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about whether it was covered in sand.
His face was round, his eyes were large, and his pupils were two pale vortexes that were constantly spinning and collapsing. From the depths of those vortexes, one could almost hear the silent screams of billions of souls.
He was barefoot, stepping on scorching sand and congealed blood, yet he seemed oblivious, hopping and skipping as if he were on soft grass.
His face wore a pure, childlike smile, like a child discovering a new toy, but to the blood-soaked warriors and cultists around him, that smile was more terrifying than the most hideous demon.
"Oh dear, are the little stones angry?" The red-haired boy tilted his head, looking at Baturu and Gomur, who were on high alert, instinctively pushing their magical power to the limit. His smile widened, revealing tiny, shark-like fangs. "Being angry isn't fun! Being angry... means you'll get burned!"
His voice suddenly rose, becoming shrill and manic:
"Burn! Burn it all! Stones! Shadows! And that stinky red liquid! Hehehe! Burn it all to ashes! Ashes! Ashes! Ashes!!" He shouted as he clapped his hands excitedly, spinning around in place, his wide red robe fluttering like a child who had received his favorite candy.
He looked like a child anyway...
"Your Excellency the Archbishop..." the grey-robed bishop began, his voice trembling with utmost reverence.
"Shut up! Useless thing!" The red-haired boy abruptly stopped spinning and shrieked at the gray-robed bishop, his face instantly clouded with a violent rage. "Can't even handle a few stinky stones! I have to do it myself! Useless! Useless! Useless!" With each "useless" he shouted, the gray-robed bishop's body convulsed violently, as if being whipped by an invisible whip.
His gaze shifted to Maurice, his swirling, pale pupils revealing a cold scrutiny: "Old Grayhead, you're getting old too? The flame isn't burning bright enough anymore! No fun!" Maurice lowered his head deeply, his withered body trembling even more violently.
After his frenzied rant, the red-haired boy's attention returned to Baturu and Gomur, and his face instantly regained that innocent yet cruel smile: "You guys are so much fun! Big rocks! Hard as rocks! They'll definitely crackle and pop when they burn! Hehehe!"
He slowly raised a small, fair hand, spread his fingers, and gently clenched it in the direction of Elder Baturu.
There was no incantation, no omen.
Elder Baturu's magical shield, which was as molten as lava and capable of melting gold and iron, suddenly collapsed inward as if it had been plunged into ice water at absolute zero.
Immediately afterwards, a tiny, pale blue spark appeared without warning inside the protective shield, on Elder Baturu's chest.
"Ughh ...
The spark instantly expanded, transforming into a semi-transparent, pale blue-white flame. It didn't scorch Baturu's rock armor, nor did it ignite his hair; instead, it directly enveloped his soul.
In Elder Baturu's lava-like eyes, crimson-gold light flickered wildly, like a candle burning in the wind. His face was contorted in indescribable agony, not physical pain, but the ultimate torture of having his soul forcibly torn apart, ignited, and melted.
His massive body trembled violently, the rock plate armor groaned under the strain, and the lava barrier instantly lost its light, becoming dim and fragile.
Centered on him, an aura of the end of all things spread out. The orc warriors who were close to him didn't even have time to react. The light in their eyes instantly went out, and they fell silently like puppets whose souls had been taken away. Their bodies were intact, but they were completely dead.
Even the moss on the surrounding rock walls withered and turned to ash at a visible speed.
"Baturu!" Elder Gomur's eyes widened in horror as he rushed to his aid, but the red-haired boy's gaze instantly locked onto him.
"Don't rush, little paws, it's your turn next!" the boy said with a grin, casually pointing his other little hand at Gomur.
Elder Gomur instantly felt a chill that froze his soul, not from low temperatures, but from the ultimate fear that his very existence was about to be erased.
His speed and sharpness, which he was so proud of, seemed so insignificant in the face of this will. The magical crystals around him flickered wildly, but they could not dispel the premonition of death that had seeped into his very bones.
The red-haired boy skipped and hopped towards Baturu, who was enveloped in eerie blue flames and roaring in agony, and Gomur, who was locked in a death trap and unable to move. His smile was innocent and carefree, and he hummed a tuneless, chilling song:
"Burning stones, burning shadows, burning and burning, so much fun... Burning away all the filth, the world of ashes is the cleanest! Hehehe..."
The two grey-robed bishops knelt deeply on the ground, not daring to raise their heads. The remaining cultists trembled with fanaticism, as if welcoming divine punishment.
The shadow of the black-robed man rippled violently on the distant rock face, but no one dared to reveal themselves again.
But... is this fear, or... something being awaited...?
The orc warriors were completely overwhelmed by the soul-stirring terror and absolute pressure, and even their anger turned into cold despair.
The red-haired boy skipped and hummed the bone-chilling lullaby, his delicate white hands clenched as if manipulating invisible strings, watching Elder Baturu's soul being silently burned in the eerie blue flames.
Elder Gomur was locked in by the ominous sign of death, like an insect trapped in amber, even the magic crystals at his fingertips dimmed. Despair, like a cold sandstorm, swept through the heart of every orc.
Just as the red-haired boy was about to "play" with Gomur as well—
A sudden change occurred!
Two deadly intents lurking in the deepest shadows, like venomous snakes that have been lying in wait for a long time, suddenly bared their fangs when their prey was most complacent.
The target was not the terrifying red-haired young master, but the two bishops kneeling at his feet, completely unprepared!