Chapter 98: No One Will Die, I Assure You

“Your Highness, the entire Soren Mountain range and its surrounding 20-kilometer area have been completely sealed off.”

“Understood.”

Yveste replied calmly as she gazed at the dark, foreboding entrance embedded in the mountainside.

After a moment of silence, she turned to glance at the subordinates gathered behind her.

Afia, Morris, and others stood ready. Not only that, but Rhine, Greya, and a number of Augusta Estate staff were also present.

Even Duke Tyrius had arrived, bringing a large contingent of troops stationed at the entrance to the underground ruins.

Today, everyone had come together for one purpose: to complete the temporary mission issued by Saint Roland VI.

Furthermore, the churches in Orne City had dispatched a significant number of Extraordinary individuals.

The once-chaotic Divine Order Church had inexplicably restored its order and gathered over a hundred Extraordinary practitioners, all waiting at the perimeter of the mountain.

This sudden coordination was likely linked to the Second Prince, Felit.

However, as the primary force for this mission, only Yveste and her team were permitted to approach the target—the underground ruins.

The clergy and church’s Extraordinary forces were stationed outside the Soren Mountains, prepared to contain any possible outbreak of Extraordinary contamination but not allowed to advance further.

“You will all wait outside,” Yveste said calmly. “This mission only requires me.”

Had it not been for Saint Roland VI’s promised rewards, she wouldn’t have brought these people here at all.

If she could complete the mission alone while allowing everyone else to reap medals and commendations, it was a bargain worth making.

“Your Highness, are you sure you don’t need our help?”

Afia stepped forward, her expression full of concern.

Yveste gently patted her on the head. “No need. What help could a Third Rank like you provide?”

Her words were dismissive, but the truth was she didn’t want her subordinates to get hurt.

Hearing this, Afia pouted but obediently stepped back into the crowd.

“Well then, I wish Your Highness success in the mission,” said Duke Tyrius with a respectful nod.

Yveste returned the gesture before turning and striding into the underground ruins.

Seeing this, Greya finally let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Leaning toward his brother Rhine, he whispered, “Hey, big bro, what’s with all these church people getting involved in this mission? Why are they so wary of us?”

Rhine shot him a cold glance but remained silent.

Unbothered, Greya continued in a hushed tone, “Based on what Lynn always says, if something seems unusual, there’s bound to be trouble.”

“Do you think... the actual sequence of that Sealed Artifact might be much higher than they’re letting on?”

“Shut up,” Rhine snapped.

In the basement, Milanie was, as usual, meticulously inspecting the containment conditions of various Sealed Artifacts.

She moved methodically, her actions precise, but something about the air around her seemed tense, as if a storm was brewing.

As a Third-Rank Extraordinary who followed the faith of Saint Perception, Milanie, like Lynn, had no real combat abilities. Instead, her talents were fully invested in research and the handling of Sealed Artifacts.

She hummed a little tune to herself as she moved about, checking the containment statuses.

Suddenly, she stopped, patting her chest as if remembering something.

A trace of surprise crossed her face. “I forgot to ask for the necklace back.”

Shaking her head, Milanie’s mind drifted to the image of Lynn’s cheeky grin. For a moment, she didn’t know what to think.

Just then, an unusual sound came from one of the containment rooms nearby.

Milanie frowned, leaning closer to listen.

The sound resembled the squelching of mud being mixed with water—a strange, sticky glurp-glurp.

She glanced at the containment room’s number and her expression turned serious.

3-0098—the room containing the Chair of Torment.

At first glance, this Sealed Artifact didn’t seem problematic; its containment conditions were simple.

The real issue was the person sitting in the chair.

After Her Highness destroyed the Creationist Sect, most of its members were killed, but a few high-ranking leaders had been captured and brought back for interrogation.

So far, no useful information had been extracted, and they had been set aside for the time being.

Currently, the person seated in the Chair of Torment was none other than the sect’s High Priest, Askin Prokott.

As the sect’s leader, he had naturally received the most “attention.”

Milanie hesitated for a moment before pulling out a key and unlocking the door.

What she saw inside made her freeze in shock.

The High Priest, who should have been strapped to the chair, had turned into a writhing mass of black sludge.

Though the black substance vaguely retained a humanoid shape, it was clear that it had lost all consciousness and reason.

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t him. It was a duplicate!

Looking at the sludgy mass, a chilling realization gripped Milanie.

If this wasn’t Askin Prokott, then where was the real one?

Could it be...

Following her memory of her last visit, Yveste quickly navigated the layers of obstacles and traps, finally reaching the central palace within the underground ruins.

The space appeared to be a vast natural cavern, with only minimal repairs having been made. Many areas bore stalactites formed over countless years.

Her gaze shifted toward the item on the raised platform at the center of the hall.

Her eyes landed on a slightly worn ceramic jar sitting prominently atop the platform.

The jar looked unremarkably old, even crude—almost primitive in its simplicity.

The ceramic jar had one striking feature: a lifelike carving of a woman’s face with closed eyes and a serene smile etched at its center.

Based on her memory, the woman’s likeness bore an eerie resemblance to the goddess statue of Creation, which she had destroyed earlier.

On the rugged wall behind the jar, remnants of faded murals depicted a group of people seemingly worshipping the jar in ritualistic devotion.

The unnaturally quiet palace reeked of something sinister, the oppressive atmosphere practically tangible.

Yveste, however, was unshaken.

She resolved to act swiftly.

In the next instant, her black-clad figure flashed, reappearing atop the central platform.

Looking down, she noticed that the ground surrounding the jar was etched with crude patterns and matrices, their designs haphazard yet faintly unsettling.

Yveste raised her right hand, which gleamed faintly with a crimson glow.

She attempted to manipulate the unassuming jar, willing it to levitate into her palm.

But just like before, despite its mundane appearance, her Extraordinary powers couldn’t budge it an inch.

It wasn’t going to be taken away.

Clearly, she had to absorb its laws and properties on the spot.

Her expression remained impassive.

This had always been part of today’s plan.

The task was straightforward enough.

Yveste took a deep breath, and an invisible aura began radiating from her.

In the next moment, her black hair floated as if stirred by an unseen wind, her crimson eyes deepening to a mesmerizing glow. Tiny, starlike glimmers swirled within them, moving like an intricate celestial map.

A scarlet force field gradually surged outward, brimming with energy.

From the deathly silent ruins, an overwhelming cacophony of whispers and wails erupted—an otherworldly chorus that seemed to traverse time and space, shattering the stillness.

“Boom—!”

As Yveste’s power reached its peak, the air around her erupted into a deafening hum!

Simultaneously, the dreadful whispers and wails coalesced into tangible energy, flowing wildly toward her and spiraling behind her like a vortex.

Moments later, a colossal door entwined with endless chains of cosmic order materialized silently in the chamber.

“Creak, creak...”

In an instant, Yveste’s body ascended into the air.

Chanting laced with ancient incantations echoed, and the massive Blood Gate, vast enough to encompass the entire mountain range, swung open.

Chains shattered and fell, their fragments scattering as the gate broke free from its bonds.

Beyond the gate lay a realm of unfathomable horror, a world forged from oceans of boiling blood.

Suspended midair, Yveste’s crimson eyes gleamed with ferocity as she hovered like a radiant Valkyrie.

Her immense Sixth-Rank aura rippled outward, shaking the mountain to its core. Rocks tumbled down in avalanches, and the entire structure seemed on the verge of collapse.

With an air of majestic solemnity, she issued her command.

“Devour.”

Amid the overwhelming cries and wails, the crimson energy from the River of the Dead surged violently toward the center of the Blood Gate, like an unstoppable black hole devouring everything in its path.

Under this catastrophic force, the once-quiet Wishing Jar began to change.

The jar, which had remained still and unremarkable until now, wobbled violently, as though struggling against the relentless pull.

Its already cracked surface began to splinter further, fragments of clay breaking away.

“Glurp, glurp—”

As a Sealed Artifact, the jar’s dormant consciousness finally awakened.

With a strange sound, thick black sludge began pouring out of the jar, seeping endlessly as if it possessed intelligence, writhing and squirming to escape in every direction.

“Trying to run?”

Yveste’s expression turned icy, her presence radiating an unapproachable divinity. Her black dress swirled in the air as she raised a pale hand and made a slight gesture.

The escaping black sludge abruptly reversed course, rising into the air before being sucked back into the Blood Gate.

So far, it looked like the artifact was only around second- or first-tier in power.

This meant she could wake up much earlier than expected.

An image of a certain someone briefly surfaced in her mind.

But just then, a cold, venomous female voice echoed within her consciousness.

“Your first wish... I have received it.”

In the next instant, as the black sludge churned, a naked figure suddenly emerged beside the jar.

Yveste glanced down, her gaze falling upon a male figure with dog ears and a tail, his black hair and blue eyes lending him a clean yet strikingly handsome appearance.

A sickening feeling surged through her.

Without even raising a hand, she glared at the doppelgänger of Lynn with murderous intent.

In a split second, it exploded into a shower of black rain, splattering the ground.

The Wishing Jar—even without verbal input—could read one’s innermost thoughts and twist them into reality in the most dreadful way imaginable.

Each person was limited to three wishes.

She needed to destroy it completely before it could go any further.

Her gaze hardened as she looked at the smiling woman’s face carved into the jar.

Just then, the venomous voice spoke again:

“Your second wish... I have received it.”

“Boom—!!!”

With a deafening sound, the jar, which had been teetering on the brink of destruction, shattered into countless fragments, scattering across the floor.

But almost immediately, the shards seemed to respond to some mysterious force, reversing the process as though time itself was rewinding.

The fragments reassembled, fusing back together until the jar returned to its original form.

It had read Yveste’s unspoken desire to destroy it—and granted the wish in its own cruel way.

Not good!

The third wish was imminent!

Yveste’s expression tightened, her gaze locking on the jar, its smiling female face mocking her with serene malice.

Though the first two wishes hadn’t caused her any real harm, Yveste’s sixth sense warned her:

If the third wish were realized, something catastrophic was bound to happen.

In an instant, she unleashed her full power.

A tremendous aura erupted around her, shrouding her entirely in crimson, Extraordinary energy that surged like an unstoppable tide. She seemed like a divine being descended upon the mortal plane.

The Blood Gate expanded once more, its devouring force tearing the earth apart. The ground around her fractured and collapsed with deafening booms as the gravitational pull consumed everything in its path.

The Wishing Jar, unable to resist the overwhelming force of the “Princess of Sin,” trembled violently as it was dragged toward the towering Blood Gate.

But then, Yveste noticed something unusual.

From a distant corner, a rapid, low chant reached her ears.

“Oh Goddess, creator of all beings, embodiment of all spiritual wills, you are the Mother of Nature, pure and unblemished, the origin and end of life. You are...”

Her gaze snapped to the corner.

There, a gaunt, haggard man clad in tattered robes stood, fervently performing a bizarre and malevolent ritual.

Askin Prokott!

The High Priest of the Creationist Sect, a Fifth-Rank Legendary Extraordinary of the “Creation” faith.

Yveste instantly recognized him.

But his chanting continued uninterrupted:

“They desecrate your sacred name...”

“They defile your statue...”

“They tarnish your holy scriptures...”

“They...”

A crushing sense of danger gripped her heart.

“Kill him!”

Yveste, now resembling a crimson queen of blood, commanded imperiously.

Drenched in red Extraordinary power, her hair billowed wildly, and her sharp, Valkyrie-like demeanor exuded an unsettling mix of beauty and terror.

With a shrill, otherworldly screech, an enormous skeletal hand, adorned with countless remains of the dead, emerged from the Blood Gate.

The hand descended with earth-shattering force upon Askin’s position!

“Boom!”

Stone and blood sprayed outward in all directions as the ground was obliterated.

When the dust settled, Askin Prokott, the once-legendary Fifth-Rank Extraordinary, was no more.

In his place lay a grisly pile of flesh and bone, mingled with brain matter and blood.

It had taken only a single blow to annihilate a Fifth-Rank powerhouse like an insignificant insect.

Yet the faint sense of foreboding lingering in Yveste’s heart refused to dissipate.

While continuing to absorb the laws and properties of the Wishing Jar, she kept her eyes locked on the heap of gore, her crimson gaze unyielding and watchful.

The next moment, amidst the writhing remains of what was once Askin Prokott, a grotesque mouth formed atop the pile of mangled flesh and blood.

The mouth moved, completing the final verse of the High Priest’s prayer:

“Your children weep in blood... O great and supreme Demon of Creation... we beseech you... descend upon us...”

As the last words fell, the serene, smiling face on the Wishing Jar contorted into an expression of seething rage and venomous hatred!

In an instant, a column of black light, brimming with endless malice and resentment, surged skyward, piercing through the heavens.

Yveste’s expression changed dramatically.

And she wasn’t the only one.

At that very moment, everyone within the Soren Mountains bore witness to the divine-like spectacle of a black beam that bridged the earth and sky.

Where is the real Askin Prokott now?

Milanie stood frozen, staring at the pulsating black sludge in disbelief.

Could it be...

The thought had barely crossed her mind when her instincts as a Third-Rank Extraordinary attuned to Saint Perception kicked in. She suddenly sensed an unbearable, chilling presence emanating from the northwest.

The oppressive force was like a wave of dread she couldn’t resist.

She bolted out of the cellar, rushing into the open, her eyes locking on the overcast, ominous sky.

In the direction of the underground ruins, a column of pitch-black energy shot into the heavens, its intensity tearing through the clouds.

The sheer magnitude of the malevolent energy it carried—laden with boundless hatred and malice—made Milanie’s stomach churn. Her legs buckled uncontrollably as she trembled, barely able to keep herself standing.

This... this isn’t a second-tier Sealed Artifact!

It’s Zero-Tier!

An undeniable Zero-Tier Artifact.

Even within the entire Saint Roland Empire, only a handful of such artifacts existed.

This was a disaster!

An ominous realization struck Milanie like a bolt of lightning.

Based on the false intelligence provided by Saint Roland VI, Her Highness was likely already in the process of trying to devour the Zero-Tier Artifact!

This process was irreversible and couldn’t be interrupted—unless the devourer suffered extreme physical harm.

The only other outcome? Success. But that would mean Her Highness would lose herself entirely within the Artifact’s overwhelming laws and properties. She’d succumb to its curses, mutating into something neither human nor monster, a being of pure aberration.

Either result was unthinkable for Milanie.

She had to warn them immediately!

Staring at the ominous, terrifying black pillar of light, Milanie’s heart was consumed by despair.

Her face pale, she stumbled and staggered toward the doorway, desperate to run.

But deep down, she knew all too well—by the time she arrived, it would all be over.

Perhaps... everyone would die!

The thought of such a grim possibility made her even more frantic.

It was this panic, this lapse in focus, that caused the brown-haired girl—already unaccustomed to physical exertion—to trip and fall heavily to the ground.

Her delicate skin was scraped, and blood seeped from her wounds.

Yet she didn’t waver. Gritting her teeth, she tried to push herself off the ground.

The next moment, a pair of warm arms enveloped her petite frame, lifting her gently. The faintly familiar scent at her nose struck a chord deep within her.

Milanie instantly recognized the figure holding her.

For reasons she couldn’t understand, tears began streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“Why... why did you come back?” Milanie clutched the fabric of his shirt tightly, her voice trembling as she fought to suppress her despair. “Run! If you stay, it’ll all be over!”

“That’s a Zero-Tier Sealed Artifact. We... we’ve been deceived by Saint Roland VI.”

“Everyone... everyone is going to die.”

At this moment, Milanie’s mind swirled with the horrifying implications.

Although Yveste was undeniably powerful, she wasn’t a god.

Or rather, even a god would hesitate to recklessly attempt the devouring of a Zero-Tier Sealed Artifact. The characteristics and laws contained within such an artifact, steeped in malevolent corruption, could destabilize even divine beings.

And now, a mere Sixth-Rank Demigod, misled by her father, was leading all her subordinates into what amounted to a suicide mission.

Thinking this, Milanie pushed hard against the boy holding her, trying to make him leave Orne City before it was too late.

If he delayed any longer, the fallout from the Zero-Tier Artifact’s rampage would destroy every city in its vicinity.

“Don’t worry.”

Lynn’s calm voice reached her ears as he cradled her petite frame.

“No one will die.”

He held her securely, carrying her back toward the cellar.

“You don’t understand what a Zero-Tier Artifact entails! It’s...”

Lynn interrupted her sobbing.

“No, I understand perfectly.”

“Because I have an unprecedented understanding of the situation at hand, I can say with absolute certainty what will happen.”

“I don’t speak lightly about things I can’t accomplish. And when I say something, I make sure it happens.”

“Miss Milanie, no one will die. I give you my word.”

Three minutes later, after calming the distraught Milanie, Lynn found himself inside a narrow containment room.

Ignoring the trembling marionette in the corner, his gaze locked onto an unassuming wooden box placed at the center of the room.

In his assessment, resolving the current Zero-Tier Artifact crisis required three carefully prepared steps.

As he stared at the note within the box, new text gradually appeared:

“Give me a drop of Lynn Bartleon’s blood, and I will give you a gold coin.”

Without hesitation, Lynn took out a small needle and gently pricked his finger, allowing a drop of his blood to bead on the tip.

He had been considering this for a long time.

From the moment he was trapped at Yveste’s side, he had thought deeply about how to acquire a trump card capable of unleashing immense power in a short period.

And now, after much deliberation, he had settled on the only solution he could devise.

Lynn bent down and wrote another line of small text on the note, using his own blood this time.

“Give me a drop of higher-dimensional demon’s blood, and I will set you free.”