Echoes of the Past

Chapter 118 "Big Mouth" and the Demon Eye

The morning light was diffused, and the morning mist had not yet dissipated.

Gunn, the greatest contributor to the integration of Nora and the ruler of the Ereshkigal whom Slatur had longed for, saw his status rise accordingly.

Aside from the masked personal mage who was always by Slatu's side, Gunn was one of the few people who could easily get to Slatu's bedroom just by using his face.

"Beware of Boron Jean Farrell?"

Slatur savored the latest developments Nanan had made the previous night, stopped the maid from wiping his cheeks, took the towel, soaked it in ice water, and began to apply it to his face.

The cool sensation penetrating his skin quickly restored his thoughts from the lingering haze of waking.

"This is getting more and more interesting. Could it be that Nora is actually hiding a high-level mage from another continent?"

Nan'an's lips moved, but she did not correct him.

Judging solely from the supernatural nature of Riseres's letter, assuming the messenger exists, he and Boron are unlikely to be magicians, and it's hard to say whether they are even human.

Pirion returns to the Consul's mansion, and his chef, whose roasting skills were once recognized by Nan'an and Suiyue, also returns to the kitchen.

Slatur is a meat lover, and he needs a honey-glazed meat side dish with his breakfast, followed by a fruit platter in a fist-sized porcelain bowl.

This amazed Nan'an, who was dining with them.

As an unlucky guy who transmigrated shortly after graduation, he was willing to praise Slatur for having the appetite of a college student, capable of devouring a whole cow.

With this kind of diet, Slatur's estimated weight is only 160 to 170 pounds, which means he has an amazing metabolism.

"Isn't that great?" Suiyue beamed. "Being able to eat means you're healthy."

Slatur is in good health, which is beneficial to El Deer and Nora: ×

Follow Slatur's lead, and you can have meat for breakfast too:

Suiyue's way of thinking doesn't require very advanced reading comprehension.

The cool wind sweeping across the land makes everything desolate, and the coolness of autumn carries the chill of early winter.

The harvest of the last crop was not delayed by the invasion of the mimic gods and demons or Anze's takeover of Soliz.

Amidst the vast fields, magicians traverse the landscape, assisting farmers in transferring harvested crops and fruits onto horse-drawn carts.

Everything was in perfect order.

When the scene shifts to the Kamami base, what is presented to outsiders is a completely different picture.

There were no cultivated fields around, and the settlements built on the adjacent woodland stood alone. The nearest facility was the Siam River isolation zone, which posed a certain risk.

Having received the news early, Oka helped the still-injured Father Rusca and bowed to greet Slatur outside the stronghold.

Behind him was a group of living eclipses who had knelt down long ago and were still dizzy and disoriented.

They still can't understand how such a large city like Solitz could suddenly disappear.

The unexpected turn of events was sudden, and many people spent three whole days worrying and unable to sleep.

The imminent threat of the undercurrent of destruction has made Angze known for his extreme toughness towards the Living Erosion.

The methods of the Radiant Owl are a perfect tribute to the Deer of the Night in its prime; it will not waste words if it can wipe them out completely.

We've finally found a place to live—is it all over now?

"Oka, Oka?" Slatu stopped his personal mage from intervening, and took the initiative to help the bowing man and goblin to their feet, smiling warmly. "I spoke with your chief Tata; he is a learned and respectable goblin."

Nan'an had to admire Slatur's ability to grasp the key points.

The goblins, who rose to prominence and integrated into the Nora tribe, have a unique obsession with "respect".

Judging from Oka's excited appearance, Nan'an could guess how he would describe Slatu's kindness to his other companions when he returned to his tribe.

My first impression was perfect.

"Father Rusca, both Nanan and the Raven have told me about your deeds." Slatu curiously grabbed the arm of the astonishingly robust old man and squeezed it. "An excellent magic warrior, an outstanding missionary, yet you are still a priest—would you like to come with me to Anze?"

"Your Majesty only knows the past me," Rusca said, bowing his head. "Now I am old, no longer powerful, and have no desire to preach. I only wish to leave some traces before I die."

"Through active erosion?"

"Anyone willing to pave the way for Nora's future."

Slatur's eyes were filled with admiration, and he kept shaking his head.

"It's a pity you're old now. Your most glorious years were wasted by the fools of the Dawn Church and the people of the Solitz Senate. If you had followed me, you could have written even greater deeds."

Ruska smiled: "Missing out and losing are the norm in this world; having is the luck of what you can't have."

Slatur smiled, waved his hand, and ordered, "Have the physician examine the priest's wounds."

Nan'an had already guessed that Ruska's past was extraordinary, but since the crow didn't say anything, he didn't ask either.

Even Slatur couldn't wait to lure him back to Angze—now Nan'an's curiosity was really starting to stir.

Could Ruska be just an alias?

So, what terrible things did he do in history that would be recorded in history?

As he was pondering this, Slatur began to call out Nan'an's name.

"You're in charge of Kamaizushi, could you introduce yourself?"

This put Nan'an in an awkward position.

Although the chief elder did appoint him to be in charge of the base construction, in practice, his role was more like that of a spiritual leader and a hands-off manager.

While still running through the black mist of the scythe-water, Ki-Zan and Cole were immediately underestimated upon their first encounter with Yao-Xiao.

If Nan'an hadn't been somewhat famous, and if the owls hadn't been able to ignore an old man several hundred years old, those two probably wouldn't have even had the luxury of sitting down.

Slatur understood the awkwardness, pursed his lips, and strode towards the kneeling Living Erosions.

"His Majesty."

The personal mage hurriedly caught up, but failed to stop Slatur's advance.

"Alright, I don't think you're such an incompetent magician. However, if you're not confident in preventing a possible attack, I'll have to consider adding more competitors for you."

The raven whispered something to Gunn.

"He's a good person, it's just that some of him—"

"Confidence?" Gunn added, "Compared to the hesitant fellows in the Solitz Senate, I can tolerate and am willing to take the risks he brings. At least—Slatur is taking action."

He then gestured with his lip towards the direction of Nan'an.

"I think Nan'an can adapt to his pace quite well, how can you be inferior to an old man?"

The crow said irritably, "Nan'an has just been dead long enough; he didn't live long at all!"

Slatur stopped in front of the kneeling Living Eclipse, his gaze sweeping over the terrified faces.

He saw the faces that were excessively thin due to long-term malnutrition, and the shoulders that trembled slightly with fear.

He didn't rush to speak, but stood quietly, letting the morning breeze make his loose robes flutter.

The silence was more oppressive than any words, and the kneeling Eclipses even breathed cautiously.

In the end, Slatur still did not speak to the living erosions. He simply walked silently around the crowd, looked at the stronghold they had built themselves, and went into a few houses, lifting the pot lids to examine them for a while.

His attitude had already been made clear to Southampton last night while waiting for Wahedien to arrive.

He would not publicly acknowledge or agree with the decisions of the Living Eclipse until the Living Eclipses had made a real contribution and were worthy of being widely publicized by Angze.

The attempt and support for Nan'an's administration of this area will be carried out through rewards for Pirion.

Slatur pointed to an inner guard who picked up a dark, bread-like object from beside the stove.

After the guards tested the poison, he broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth, chewing it while revealing a mask of pain.

Having grown accustomed to refined flour, Slatur glanced at the coal-like black bread in his hand and, adhering to the idea of ​​not wasting food, handed it to—the scribe closest to him.

"The conditions are really tough, but that's fine too. Let them start from scratch."

Suburbs of Karen.

On the empty wooden house in the village, abandoned due to the Pirion relocation policy, Elmar Hern gazed into the distance, looking towards the direction of the Sicklewater outpost, and kept circling in place.

"Shall we take a gamble?"

She was talking to herself, her voice as soft as a spider's silk swaying in the wind.

"I've heard that His Majesty the Emperor of Angze values ​​talent highly. If you successfully recommend yourself, you can get rid of the threat from Nan'an."

"They're just asking for the right to unlimited access to and from Kren; there's no reason to deny that, is there?"

“However—” she frowned, “the Anze people despise the Living Eclipse. What if His Majesty Slatu is rude?”

Having suffered repeated blows from Nan'an, and knowing that his seemingly compliant attitude was actually unyielding, Elmar Hern sensed that the situation was undergoing a subtle change.

With Pirion and Nanan on good terms, will she still be able to treat Kren as her private garden, coming and going as she pleases?

But—she still didn't want to be recruited by the government, nor did she want to take any responsibility!

Just as I was pondering this, footsteps came from not far away.

It wasn't the patrol team. She was all too familiar with their footsteps—neat, heavy, with the crisp sound of their standard leather boots crunching on pebbles.

The visitor was alone.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the grayish-white fog swirled in the forest like countless soft fingers. On the path leading to the abandoned village, a blurry figure could be vaguely seen, stopping and standing there quietly, as if knowing that Almahern was also watching him.

Almahern felt a chill run down her spine.

An invisible force pressed in from all directions, like an unseen hand, tightening its grip on the space around her, making the air thick and sticky.

Instinct reacted before reason; she transformed into a shadow, silently sliding down the wooden house and disappearing into another shadowy spot close to the ground.

The instant she broke free—

"Snap!"

The voice was deep and heavy, like a giant beast closing its jaws.

Almahern looked back and saw that a corner of the abandoned wooden house had disappeared.

The "cake" had been bitten, and horrifying teeth marks remained on the broken surface of the house. The lines were deeply embedded in the remaining wood and stone walls, bite marks left by teeth embedded in their prey.

The cut was incredibly smooth, with charred burn marks curling at the edges—his saliva.

Having relocated, Almahern appeared on the roof of another cabin and chuckled contemptuously.

"A fellow human, huh? You're an adaptor too. What makes you so eager to show off your abilities to me?"

"Snap!"

"Snap!"

"Snap!"

Three crisp sounds rang out in succession, and the wooden houses tilted and collapsed one after another.

The range of the bite from a distance gradually expanded, and Almahern, who had transformed into a shadow and was trying to escape, felt as if she were being torn apart and dragged back to her original spot.

"Okay, okay!"

She suddenly emerged from the shadows, lifting the hem of her dark gold dress, her body seemingly pulled by invisible threads, gracefully floating into the air.

The morning light fell on her, gilding her silhouette with a thin layer of gold.

Almahern's eyes were filled with a murky, heavy, gray light, as gloomy as dark clouds.

"I haven't killed anyone in a long time since I happily slaughtered all the villagers last time—this time, I want to hear your wails!"

""

She raised her hand, her five fingers slowly spreading out. Gray light spread from her pupils to her entire face, making her expression look ferocious and eerie.

Before she finished speaking, a divine and demonic power imbued with the meaning of aging shot out from her eyes.

The figure in the fog is making a biting motion.

That "mouth" was already open, and an invisible force locked onto Almahern's body, about to tighten, and was closing.

The gray light arrived first, precisely piercing through the fog and disappearing straight into the chest of the blurry figure.

The figure in the mist suddenly froze, its open mouth hanging in mid-air, like a frozen human sculpture.

"Cough, ha! Cough cough cough!!!"

The sound came from the fog, so strange that it didn't seem like any living thing could make it, like a thick phlegm stuck deep in the throat.

The unpleasant, bellows-like panting echoed over the abandoned village, startling birds perched in the distant woods.

"Snap!"

Elmarhern crossed her arms in front of her chest, and a jet-black shield solidified, attempting to block the unknown divine and demonic power that had already taken effect.

An invisible giant maw gnawed down, and sharp "teeth marks" as sharp as steel knives were revealed under the gaze of the aging demonic eye. It easily crushed the shield and tore her flesh apart like a knife cutting tofu.

The instant the touch was on the hand bone, Almahern reacted swiftly, unleashing her magic and dodging with unprecedented agility.

With a swing of his arm, the sharp teeth sliced ​​away a piece of flesh the size of a finger from his arm in an arc.

It's as easy as scraping ice cream with a spoon.

The excruciating pain caused her to break out in a cold sweat, her eyes turning bloodshot.

"Click—"

"Click!"

Two consecutive sounds of teeth clenching and snapping rang out.

"You bastard!"

The demonic eye stared straight ahead, but the shadowy figure behind him remained unmoved, continuing to roar on its own.

Enraged, Almahern raised her bleeding arm, roared, turned and disappeared into the shadows, keeping her distance without looking back.

At that moment, she turned around and saw a horrifying scene.

The dark, blurry humanoid shape had its head almost entirely occupied by a giant mouth, which was swollen up like a balloon the size of a human body.

He moved like a hunting dog, on all fours, making snapping noises as he sped towards her at a speed no less than hers.

Almahern was more skilled, swiftly disappearing into the long shadows cast by the morning light, leaping and darting forward under the protection of the shadows.

The trees behind him crashed to the ground with a "crackling" sound, and the enraged "big mouth" vented its destructive desires, indiscriminately biting everything in its sight.

The towering trees fell like wheat.

Having escaped death, Almahern stared with lingering fear at her missing left arm, wincing in pain.

"When did Kren acquire such a powerful Living Corrosion—even the Eye of Aging is ineffective?" she said, lightly touching her eyes. "What's wrong with you—the Bewitching Raven is interfered with by the Giant Raven, so you can't target it. Nan'an is incredibly strange, even its accuracy is ineffective. Why wasn't that guy afraid of you just now?"