Chapter 60: Seizing the World’s Throat
Thud.
The sound of Flora’s leather boot striking the ground was clear and distinct, like a stone dropped into a still pond, breaking the silence of the frozen world.
Her expression was solemn as she walked forward, her slender waist swaying gracefully, her soft golden hair rippling with each movement.
As she ceased her prayer, thin tendrils began to emerge from Flora’s body. They sprouted from her heart, creeping along her contours, climbing her neck, wrapping around her waist, writhing and squirming, attempting to steal her vitality.
Flora didn’t even glance at them. With elegant steps and a rhythmic pace, she walked over to Abyss and knelt beside him, gently taking his clenched left hand in hers.
She carefully unfurled his fingers, revealing three gemstones within: the Eye of Envy, the Eye of Fear, and the Tongue of Greed—the artifacts Dallan sought, the instruments of the Lord of Submergence’s arrival.
“As I thought, even though you knew nothing, you were already prepared,” she said with a gentle smile.
Clutching the three gemstones in her hand, she looked up at Bishop Dallan, suspended in the sky thirty meters above. Flora took a deep breath and stepped forward, her foot landing on thin air.
Dong—
A distant bell tolled from an unknown source. Beneath Flora’s foot, a golden step materialized, supporting her weight.
As she took another step, more golden steps appeared, extending from her current position all the way to Dallan.
Every movement of the former Saint of the Church was impeccably graceful, adhering to the strictest etiquette. She ascended the steps slowly, the time between each step perfectly consistent. With each step she took, the distant bell tolled again, its sound seeming to permeate the entire world, weaving through every moment of frozen time.
Indeed, Flora had seized control of time itself with her Divine Arts, halting its flow under her will.
Blessed by the gods, even when using a spell as simple as “Slow Time,” Flora could amplify its effects to the point of completely stopping time.
A hint of uncertainty lingered in her eyes, but her steps were firm and resolute. Reaching Dallan, she glanced at Leona, frozen mid-backflip, her pose almost comical, and a faint smile touched her lips.
“So you realized it too.”
She turned, stood on her tiptoes, and carefully embedded the gemstones, one by one, into the Mask of Nothingness Dallan wore.
A purple gemstone for the left eye, an orange one for the right, and a blood-red one for the mouth… The gems fit perfectly into their sockets, forming a twisted, inhuman face before Flora. This was the complete Face of Hell. Two round, lidless eyes, with diamond-shaped gemstones as pupils, and a gaping mouth with a red gemstone as its tongue.
Ugly, evil, repulsive. These words flooded Flora’s senses.
She frowned, leaned forward, and pressed her shoulder against Dallan’s chest.
The tendril protruding from Dallan’s face seemed to sense something. It lashed out at the back of Flora’s head, but its seemingly powerful strikes felt like a gentle breeze against her, only ruffling her beautiful golden hair.
Flora braced her hands against Dallan’s body, grunted softly, and pushed.
It seemed like an arduous task. Flora’s delicate frame strained against Dallan’s magically suspended body, using all her might to move him just a small distance.
But she didn’t falter. As an undead, she didn’t sweat, only her face flushed slightly from the exertion. She straightened up, adjusted her position, and pushed again.
“Hmm…”
Her strength was insignificant, even with the enhancement from Abyss’s necromancy, but Flora persisted with an almost stubborn determination.
The tendrils on her body multiplied, their translucent forms wrapping around her limbs, piercing her skin. There were no wounds, no blood, but Flora could feel them draining her vitality—the most precious gift Abyss had bestowed upon her with his necromancy, her second life.
“Hmph…!”
Flora pushed again. Dallan was now two meters away from his original position. His body, pulled by the tendrils that wanted to remain in place, was covered in cracks, like dried mud crumbling to the ground, revealing his bones and torn muscles, a gruesome and horrifying sight.
Only then did she stop pushing. She turned and carefully assessed Leona’s height, making some calculations in her mind, then nodded.
Strangely, although Dallan’s body had been moved, the Face of Hell remained suspended in mid-air, detached from his face. Tiny tendrils sprouted from the grotesque mask, waving like fine hairs, reaching towards Leona, like hungry chicks in a nest, or starving refugees reaching for food.
“I leave the rest to you. You can save Abyss,” Flora whispered to Leona, offering words of encouragement she wouldn’t hear. Then she turned and slowly descended the steps.
Back on the ground, at her original position, Flora exhaled softly and clapped her hands.
Clap.
The sounds of the world rushed back in like a tidal wave, time resumed its relentless flow, and a scorching wind whipped past Flora’s ears.
At that moment, Leona completed a swift and flawless backflip. As she spiraled down from the sky, her face aligned perfectly with the Face of Hell, and she slammed it onto her own face.
0.63… seconds.
It all happened in 0.63 seconds.
That was the time it took for Bishop Dallan’s body to reset. Leona, through her relentless attacks and her keen sense of timing honed as a master warrior, had discovered this fixed interval.
The tendrils extending from the mask pierced Leona’s delicate face without hesitation. At the same time, Bishop Dallan, his expression shocked, plummeted from the sky.
Countless ethereal tendrils flashed around Leona, and her already powerful aura surged even higher!
Without a moment’s hesitation, the Lord of Submergence abandoned his Bishop and chose a new host for the Face of Hell—
Leona Placidia Crepeus!
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