Chapter 264: The Death of Serie
At the pinnacle of the Magic Association tower, all was silent. Only the clear moonlight spilled through the arched windows onto the carpet.
Two people slept in the room, but one of them seemed extremely restless.
Rhodes's brows were tightly knitted together, and his breathing was rapid and shallow, as if an invisible nightmare were strangling him, denying him air.
Beside his bed, the Divine Right Sword, Org, which he had brought out of the forest, floated abnormally in the air instead of resting on its stand.
The silver blade emitted a faint glow, its ancient magical runes circulating slowly. A surge of passive magical energy was forcing its way through the god-slaying sword, rudely invading the depths of its current master's dreams.
The dream was fragmented, yet suffocating.
First, Rhodes saw the desolate plains of the extreme north.
The familiar Demon King's Castle stood tall, its scale far grander than before. The monstrous demonic aura that once surrounded it was gone, replaced by a viscous, writhing sea of black mud that threatened to drown the heavens and earth.
Upon the throne, the figure of Annelise was blurred. Her power seemed to have completely fused with the filth originating from the Godfall Land, radiating a malice that made one's soul tremble.
She was not looking at Rhodes, but down at the boundless army of demons below.
The scene abruptly tore apart and reassembled.
Before his eyes was a plain engulfed in the flames of war.
Everywhere lay human corpses and the fires of magical explosions.
He saw the banner of the Southern Unified Empire, the crest of the Kingdom of Ersten, and the symbols of other human nations.
They were not fighting demons. Humans were slaughtering each other!
The scale was unprecedented. Almost every human nation on the continent had been dragged into this tragic, bloody civil war.
Rhodes's heart sank into a bottomless abyss.
Internal strife! Civil war among humans!
Before he could process this terrible picture, the core of the precognitive dream manifested. Or rather, the scene he dreaded most finally appeared.
Rhodes felt himself standing amidst a hazy landscape. An unprecedented palpitation forced him to turn his head sharply.
Serie was standing there.
The elf was as beautiful as ever, her long golden hair flowing with a soft luster. Rhodes loved combing her hair and styling it for her.
Every time, although Serie would complain about it being troublesome, she never refused, letting him "run wild" on her head.
However, in the dream, her usually cool face was shrouded in a sorrow so heavy it couldn't be dissolved.
Her golden eyes were misty with unshed tears and a deep sense of farewell.
What caught Rhodes's attention even more was her hand—she was gently stroking her abdomen, her movements careful, as if afraid of hurting something precious.
In that moment, a smile of incomparable tenderness, even maternity, blossomed on her face.
She raised her head slightly, her pale lips parting as if to say something to Rhodes.
However—
A sword flash, faster than the limit of perception, appeared out of thin air!
No sound. No warning. Not even the precursor fluctuation of magic.
Like a ruthless blade swung by fate itself.
In her golden pupils, the tenderness that had just risen and the unspoken words froze instantly, turning into eternal silence as the world spun.
Her body fell backward softly, weightless as a feather.
"NO!!!"
Rhodes bolted upright in bed, gasping violently.
His heart was pounding like a war drum. Cold sweat had long soaked his pajamas, clinging to his skin and bringing the chill of the night.
Was it a dream...?
Rhodes panted heavily, trying to grasp a shred of reason.
But by the bed, the Holy Sword Org was slowly descending, the glow of the runes on its blade fading. Its presence coldly declared that this was no simple nightmare.
Precognition!
It was a passive trigger of Org's authority—fragments of the future!
Rhodes gulped down air, trying to suppress the panic and rage that threatened to burst from his body.
The Demon King's increased power, the civil war in the human world... these things weighed on him, but they didn't make him lose his composure completely.
Only that final scene—the end of Serie—was like a razor-sharp dagger piercing his heart in the cruelest way possible, instantly dragging him into an abyss of boundless fear and fury.
Why?!
Why would this happen?!!
He suddenly reached up, his fingers digging into his hair, pulling hard. His nails nearly tore his scalp, and he ripped out several strands of hair.
Rhodes tried to use physical pain to suppress the terror and madness that were about to swallow his sanity.
His mind raced frantically, eliminating every existence in the world capable of posing a fatal threat to Serie.
Flamme?
No! Impossible!
He crushed the thought the moment it surfaced.
He knew Flamme. Her obsession might be extreme, and it might lead her to make impulsive challenges, but it would never devolve into patricide.
Flamme was a good child. Although his presence meant the master and apprentice weren't as historically close as they should be—even having a small spat over a man—Rhodes believed in their bond.
Annelise?
Did she master some unknown, terrifying method capable of instantly bypassing all of Serie's defenses? Or has a demon with assassination talents appeared under her command?
This possibility was extremely high.
Killing intent, almost solid in its intensity, erupted from Rhodes's eyes!
Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed Org the moment it landed back on the floor.
The cold hilt in his hand triggered the vast mana within him. Like a boiling volcano, it erupted. The violent energy fluctuations caused the air in the entire room to twist and distort.
Now! I must go now!
To the North!
Find her!
Kill her!
Even if this body crumbled to dust, even if his soul was damaged, even if he had to use the power of all the Holy Swords, or even turn himself into an eternal cage—he had to erase Annelise and her damned conspiracy from this world before that despairing future became reality!
Serie absolutely cannot come to harm!
Absolutely not!
Rhodes couldn't imagine a world without her.
This terrifying killing intent and uncontrolled mana finally woke the sleeping elf beside him.
Serie's long eyelashes fluttered violently before her eyes snapped open.
Her golden eyes still held the haze of waking. Confused, she turned her head and saw Rhodes—breathing rapidly, face pale, eyes terrifying—gripping the Holy Sword Org tightly.
"Rhodes?" she asked worriedly. "What is wrong with your mana? It is chaotic. Did you have a nightmare?"
She rarely saw Rhodes in such an uncontrolled, almost ferocious state. His violent mana made even her feel a trace of fear.
Hearing Serie's familiar, real voice, Rhodes snapped out of his murderous frenzy.
He took a deep breath, using his will to forcibly suppress the killing intent trying to burst out of him. But his hand gripping Org remained white-knuckled from the force.
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