Lord of the Mysteries

In just a blink of an eye, Colin Iliad had transformed into a four-meter-tall giant. His skin was bluish-black and muscular. Every inch of his skin, pores, and flesh seemed to violate the normal confines of a human body. It was a unique combination that possessed an unimaginable shock factor.

This wasn’t something that could be described superficially or in dimensions, as apart from quantitative terms like length, breadth, height, there was information, strength, and spirituality as measurement quantities. They were directly presented and seemed to be rich with complicated mystical patterns, symbols, and labels. But in fact, there wasn’t any change. The former was just a partial image that humans received due to them lacking the ability to sense and discern him. But even so, to face such a creature directly, humans without any godhood would still be corrupted by the spirituality, having their minds thrashed. A common outcome would either be death on the spot or going completely mad.

And it was precisely due to this fact that this creature was known in mysticism as: Mythical Creature!

However, at that moment, Colin Iliad’s head didn’t experience any obvious changes. All it did was swell up significantly, and the area from his forehead to nose cracked open with a black vertical eye-like rift.

Before reaching Sequence 2, the Mythical Creature form of a demigod was incomplete!

Faced with a powerhouse of this level, the advantages and disadvantages of taking such a form was obvious. On the one hand, this enhanced one’s strength and level significantly. On the other hand, it would result in intense madness and provide strong inclinations towards losing control. It was a nontrivial test of one’s rationality. It wasn’t something those with insufficient willpower could withstand.

Therefore, most saints would consider transforming into an incomplete Mythical Creature only if they were forced into a corner. And it wouldn’t just be the transformation of a particular part of their bodies. To them, such an action was an attempt at dancing on the edge of a knife. It easily led to a loss of control; therefore, caution was imperative.

Most of the time, there were two extremes. One extreme was the minority who indulged in their desires and expressed their evil side fully. The other was the kind who had extremely strong willpower and a resilient mind. Once the former produced the Mythical Creature form, it was equivalent to them losing control with no way of transforming back. The latter could use their Mythical Creature form as a rather normal battle tactic, without the fear of losing control and the threat of madness. Of course, something rather normal wasn’t normal. It still wasn’t something that could be used frequently. This was because, for people who danced at the edge of the abyss, they would only deepen the erosion on them with each attempt. It wasn’t something that could be completely avoided just because they could handle the negative effects.

Among the City of Silver’s six-member council, Chief Colin Iliad was one of the few who could control his Mythical Creature form as a Demon Hunter.

He held the two swords that were slathered with different ointments. Just taking a step forward with his right foot sent the land shaking as he leaped up towards the top of the altar. He then pounced towards the former Chief whose body was covered in white feathers.

His giant-like body’s interior and exterior produced dawnlike light that scattered the surrounding darkness, purifying the harrowing creatures that were in the illusionary river behind them.

At the same time, Waite Chirmont kept drawing his Dragon Slaying Bow, strafing around the former Chief that had transformed into an unknown monster with blinding silver lightning arrows.

Lovia had already closed her eyes. The five-meter-tall silver-armored knight behind her had phased away. Dragging the illusory greatsword, it charged straight at the altar, producing cracks that overflowed with silver light.

In addition to that, at the Shepherd Elder’s feet, the shadows that curled into a bundle suddenly began squirming as though they had come to life.

It quickly left Lovia, and amidst the environment intermixing with darkness and the dawn, it followed the eeriness and quickly headed for the iron-black coffin above the altar.

However, its target didn’t seem to be the mutated former Chief, but the thin illusory black tubes that were stabbed into his body while extending into infinity!

...

Moments after Klein returned to the real world, he heard the loud sounds of waves crashing. He heard the prostitutes on the streets screaming in horror without any signs of calming down.

Slightly surprised, he walked to the window and, through the gap of two messily built buildings, saw lead-colored clouds stacked together as waves swarmed the area beyond Poto Harbor. A black hurricane extended from the surface of the sea to the air, tainted with dark silver lightning as it silently destroyed everything.

It was like a door that led to the apocalypse had finally been opened.

And inside the port city, the void had turned translucent. Skulls with open mouths, vines with baby faces, bloody arms, and strange slimy tentacles with teeth were slamming at the boundary between the illusory and reality. It was thrilling and horrendous.

This made many pirates tremble in the knees as they didn’t dare stay on the streets. All of them rushed into nearby buildings.

The seemingly invisible wraiths and shadows flew around, appearing from time to time. Coming close to the ears of different targets, they attempted to scream but were unable to make contact.

At that moment, Poto Harbor seemed to fall into the hell known as the Underworld. It was eerie, dark, chaotic, and crazy.

Klein frowned slightly, having had a guess as to what was happening.

Back when he made a divination above the gray fog, it angered the object deep in the gloomy mausoleum. It then unleashed its temper, changing the weather of the Berserk Sea and Poto Harbor, creating the phenomena of the Underworld’s descent.

This also means that the mausoleum is indeed concealed somewhere in the Berserk Sea... It’s probably something that Death left back then. Of course, this might not be at odds with the product of the Numinous Episcopate’s Artificial Death Project. The two might be fused together... Klein retracted his gaze and quickly set up a ritual and sacrificed Azik’s copper whistle to the mysterious space above the gray fog. It was to prevent the unknown, strange, and evil object from locking onto him.

After doing that, he looked out of the window at the abnormality that was gradually calming down. He said with a self-deprecating laugh, That’s such an endearing welcome.

Hmm... The Numinous Episcopate will definitely notice the abnormality of the Berserk Sea. I wonder what actions they will take...

...

Above the illusory pitch-black river, the waves slowly calmed down. The arms, vines, and tentacles that attempted to grab at something were either vaporized or had no choice but to retract themselves.

Around the altar, the land was already covered in cracks. There were white feathers stained with yellow oil everywhere.

Colin Iliad, in his giant form, had stabbed both swords into the former Chief’s body, pinning the rotting monster that wasn’t shorter than him onto the collapsed altar. Waite Chirmont’s Dragon Slaying Bow had already condensed a silver arrow of light that was filled with a wrathful aura, aiming it at the head of the former Chief which only had tiny pieces of flesh hanging off it.

The shadow that Lovia had produced had successfully arrived at the altar under the silver knight’s cover. While the other two Elders weren’t paying attention, the shadow leaped and pounced at the black tubes that extended into infinity from the former Chief’s body.

With the incorporeal tubes approaching, the shadow’s color darkened. The blackness seemed to embody the most corrupt and evil thoughts of humanity.

At this moment, a deep voice resounded around the altar:

“Fate.”

The area “in front” of the shadow instantly darkened before realizing that it had pounced on the giant-like Colin Iliad.

Colin looked down at it, his eyes lit with a pure brilliance.

It was like the first sliver of light that illuminates the darkness on an extended night.

The light grew brighter as it blasted out of the mausoleum, causing the basement of the City of Silver’s spire to produce an even brighter and dazzling light that met with it.

When the two met in midair, they fell back down, landing upon Colin Iliad’s massive body. The pitch-black shadow evaporated with a sizzle, and the distortion and squirming weakened until they completely vanished.

Demon Hunter Colin turned back to glance at Lovia without a word or expression. It was as though nothing had happened.

He quickly retracted his gaze and directed the remnant beam straight into the former Chief’s dual swords.

Lovia stood there with her eyes closed without showing any signs of panic or fear. Instead, she slowly sighed.

...

In the City of Generosity Bayam, Alger Wilson circled around many times in order to escape any imaginary trackers or monitors before arriving at the Artisan’s residence. He pulled the doorbell.

He had heard that the Artisan had recently been infected by a disease and strange snoopers had appeared in the vicinity. Alger’s first suspicion was the Demoness Sect, but on careful thought, he felt that the Artisan had no way to withstand the temptation of their charm based on his preferences. There was no need for the Demonesses to go through such a complicated and roundabout manner. All they needed to do was curl their fingers and showcase their charm, and he would divulge and agree to everything.

Therefore, Alger believed that there was another reason for the matter. He needed to see it for himself to prevent the delivery of the mystical item from being delayed. He didn’t wish to lose the characteristic and materials for no good reason.

Amidst the ringing of the doorbell, the Artisan’s main door opened. A thin and tanned middle-aged glanced at Alger and said, “Why are you here?”

This person was none other than Artisan Cielf who had worked with Alger for many years. His background was unknown.

“Didn’t you say you were sick?” Alger asked, seemingly casual.

Cielf yawned and said, “I’m already better.”

Alger was taken aback as he looked around.

“Where’s that strange snooper?”

Cielf’s eyebags were a little puffy as his brown eyes revealed looks of fatigue and impatience.

“Who the hell knows? There’s been no sign of the snooper anyway. In short, I’ll be moving soon. It’s too dangerous here.”

Alger heaved a sigh of relief.

“That’s good.”

He paused for a moment before saying, “Aren’t you inviting me for a cup?”

“A fellow like you who only seeks high-proof alcohol has no way of appreciating fine wine.” Cielf pulled at his flaxen-colored hair and moved to the side to make way.

Alger walked in staidly, and with just one glance, he had taken in the entire area into his eyes.