Chapter 217: The Weeping Serpent (Part 7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 217: The Weeping Serpent (Part 7)
It was as if a sun were rising.
Raging crimson flames, carrying an aura of infinite heat and destruction, suddenly erupted from within Muen.
Deep beneath his skin, that eerie fingerprint mark flared to life once more, glowing like molten lava.
The rainwater flowing on the ground evaporated instantly. The Dark Moon Mist shrouding the area surged violently, as if it had encountered its natural predator.
"What—"
The Banshee’s eyes widened instinctively. Her mind couldn't quite process this sudden turn of events. Under the brilliant light, her seductive face actually appeared somewhat pale and fragile.
At that moment, a large hand broke free from the shackles of the shadows. Reaching out from the crimson flames, it clamped firmly around her throat.
"It’s truly wonderful that you’re so cautious, Miss Banshee."
Muen lifted his head and stared at her, his face twisted in a mocking sneer.
"No, I should call it cowardice. You calculated everything, but in the end, you actually did me a huge favor. Are you happy?"
"Why... the flames of the Withered King? Muen Campbell—you?"
As a believer of the Moon, the Banshee immediately recognized the aura of their mortal enemy. But the more she understood the origin of this power, the more unbelievable it became.
Muen Campbell... was an evil cultist?
This illustrious son of a Duke, a man born into the highest echelons of society, was actually a believer of the Withered King?
"Don't misunderstand. I don't worship that 'Big Eye.' This is merely a very fair trade."
Seeing through the Banshee's thoughts at a glance, Muen flashed a wicked, charming smile.
In this state, he looked even more like a yellow-haired villain bullying an innocent girl.
"A trade?"
The Banshee froze, her eyes instinctively drifting to Muen’s.
At this moment, those eyes were no longer a deep, lake-like pale blue. They were a fiery crimson. In the center of that red, several vortices resembling black holes rotated slowly. Around those black holes, ripples like a solar corona radiated outward, looking like thousands of intersecting rays of dawn, exuding an aura of ultimate majesty.
Merely being watched by those eyes made the Banshee feel as if her soul were catching fire. The extreme agony even made her forget the humiliation of being held by the neck like a common chick; her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
This crushing disparity in level finally made her realize the fundamental difference between the power Muen possessed and her own.
Both came from an Evil God.
Both were powers obtained through a transaction with an Evil God.
However, the power Muen held was not like hers—a low-level power obtained through countless acts of faith and prayer, a pitiful scrap of charity granted after offering up everything.
This was—a Divine Blessing!
It was a partial manifestation of a deity’s Authority. It represented the deity itself walking upon the earth. It was the Force of Law—living water, ceaseless and infinite.
In terms of sheer prestige, it crushed her—a priestess who claimed to be closest to the Moon—by several levels.
But...
Would an Evil God truly bestow a Divine Blessing upon an ordinary human?
In the history of mankind, such a thing was unheard of!
The Banshee could not understand it.
But she understood that if this continued, she was going to die.
"No! I cannot die like this! I can't!"
The Banshee suddenly began to struggle violently. Finding strength from some unknown source, she managed to break free from Muen’s grip. She twisted and crawled, desperate to get away from him.
"No, I haven't obtained the immortality promised by the Great Moon yet! How can I die!"
The Banshee scrambled across the ground, completely ignoring the tiny wisps of crimson flame that had already burrowed beneath her scales and begun to incinerate her flesh at will.
With a retching sound, she suddenly spat out a large mouthful of blood.
She looked down blankly, staring at her reflection in the pool of blood.
That seductive face was already as white as paper. Messy strands of hair were plastered to her forehead by sweat, making her look utterly wretched.
But even more terrifying were her eyes. Those serpent pupils, which could instill endless dread in others, were no longer cold. Instead, sparks of fire were gradually lighting up within them, like fireflies flickering on a summer night.
It wasn't beautiful at all. Rather, it carried an unspeakable sense of extinction.
The fire had already begun to burn her soul.
"No... No!"
Feeling the searing pain in her soul, the Banshee looked up in terror. She gazed at the sky, which was already obscured by the black mist, and prayed fervently.
"Moon, Great Moon, please save me. Please grant me sufficient power..."
"I am your most loyal believer. I am willing to pay any price for you. Please save me..."
"My soul! I can still give you my soul! As long as you save me, I will sacrifice my soul to you..."
The Banshee’s eyes were wide with anticipation as she prayed incessantly.
She knew that the dark mist from the Moon could not possibly block the Moon’s own gaze. Therefore, as long as the Moon looked down once more, all her problems would cease to be problems.
Even if Muen Campbell possessed the Divine Blessing of the Withered King, how could a mere blessing compare to a deity taking action personally?
So, as long as the Moon casts its gaze here for a moment—just one moment—I can...
"It seems you’ve been abandoned."
Muen had appeared beside the Banshee at some point, leisurely observing her wretched face.
"That Moon of yours is just as cowardly as you are. Right now, it can barely save itself. How could it possibly save you?"
"Nonsense!"
The Banshee roared in fury.
"I am a priestess under the Moon! I am His most devout believer! I am the one He personally promised immortality! How could the Moon abandon me? How could—"
Before she could finish, her roar came to an abrupt halt.
She suddenly felt cold.
Incredibly cold.
It was as if something was being gradually extracted from within her body.
"This is..."
The Banshee looked down at herself, trembling.
Her seductive, curvaceous body seemed to lose all its moisture, becoming shriveled and hideous bit by bit. Her fair skin began to fester at a visible rate, emitting a pungent, foul stench.
The Moon was retracting its power.
And she, who had offered up all her internal organs and relied on the Evil God’s power to survive, would inevitably face death once that power was withdrawn.
"No... why... I..."
The Banshee was terrified to the extreme. She looked up again, but this time, no matter how hard she tried, she could not find that bright moon in the mist-covered sky.
The Moon had truly abandoned her.
Abandoned her... so completely.
"I hate you... I hate you!"
Her faith had utterly collapsed. Bloody tears suddenly streamed from the corners of her eyes.
However devout her faith in the Moon had been before, her hatred was now just as intense.
But if hatred were useful, she would have long since been drowned by the countless vengeful souls who had died at her hands.
Thus, the Banshee could only watch herself rot away, bit by bit, amidst the agonizing torture that felt like ten thousand insects devouring her heart. Her soul followed suit, heading toward a void of nothingness.
Born of the Moon, died by the Moon.
This was the most painful death Muen could grant her.