Azure Scepter

Although he didn't know why he was sneering, his feigned composure did convince the other two...

Suddenly, a heavy, cold hand landed on Byron's shoulder.

He instinctively turned his head, and a black, closed-face helmet came into view.

"A listener?" The pastor gaped in disbelief.

The high-ranking undead was standing perfectly intact behind him, the collector still holding Martha's head in his hand.

“My dear Byron, your prudence and wisdom are like the bright moon in the night. Arrogance and impatience have cost me dearly,” Martha’s head said. “Time will now pass, and you will take charge.”

"What!? You're not dead?" the impatient subordinate asked instinctively.

"A curse." The collector's statement was very concise this time.

But the collector continued, “With falsehood comes true curse; no ordinary weapon can harm me. Even if I perish, I will return from the dead.”

"Otherwise, how could someone who deserves to die dare to hunt dragons?"

The ground trembled, as if struck by a hundred-armed giant, and a crack like a tree branch suddenly pierced through the ground towards the paladin.

Trier was prepared; he subtly stepped back to the left to dodge the rapidly approaching fissure in the ground.

At that moment, a black mushroom cloud drifted in the air. The paladin stopped and admired his masterpiece with satisfaction.

happy!

The kill log on the battle information panel was already overflowing, and countless golden orbs of light gathered on the horizon, surging towards him like a golden tide.

"Is this the small explosion you were talking about?" Futia's trembling voice came from behind her.

The paladin turned around and saw a look of terror on the elf's face for the first time.

The elf's face was frighteningly pale, devoid of any color. Her blue eyes stared intently at the mushroom cloud, yet remained unfocused.

The dwarf remained expressionless, looking like a zombie—the scene before him had shattered his worldview like an explosive.

P.S.: Going to sleep now... I'll revise it tomorrow.

Chapter 27 Rain

Black raindrops dripped onto the ground, mixed with building debris that had turned into particles.

Trier quickly skimmed over the dense kill log and flipped directly to the experience points gained.

[XP+6000!]

"Only 6000?" The paladin looked at the far lower-than-expected harvest and was quite puzzled. "There were at least 50 zombies that entered the blast radius just now. Could it be that the strangely shaped high-level undead didn't even get 1000 experience points?"

He quickly searched through the kill logs, and after a moment he found the answer to the problem—the undead were not dead.

“It’s not dead,” Trier thought, “but it’s obvious that it couldn’t have withstood the force of the explosion with its own body.”

"That explosion just now consumed at least a quarter of the death wind in the area—this level of energy, compressed into a very small area, would be difficult for even a dragon with high magic resistance and physical strength to survive."

"Therefore, the answer is very clear—this undead possesses some kind of special ability."

Trier frowned slightly, quickly recalling and thinking about the ability to resist such a level of explosion: "The most likely possibility is phase hiding, or some kind of very special resurrection ability."

“No matter what ability it has, it must be very difficult to deal with—if we were to fight it head-on, I would most likely be killed.” He lowered his head, the magic storage stone in his hand reflecting his face. “Luckily, I have a magic storage stone in my hand right now.”

"It's time to upgrade the spells installed inside!"

There are two ways to fill a spell storage stone: the first is to directly cast the spell you want to fill into the spell storage stone, and the second is to use specific light and temperature as a lathe and any kind of "principle" as a cutting tool when there is an abundance of magical wind to "carve" the spell form that is already present in the spell storage stone.

The first method requires the spellcaster to cast the corresponding spell on their own, but Trier, as a paladin, obviously cannot cast the highly difficult necromancy spells, Energy Drain and Heart Control, using the power of the oath. Therefore, he can only choose the second method.

The paladin closed one eye, raised the smaller magic storage stone, and pointed it towards the sun. Cold, black rain lashed against the stone's edges, while blinding silver light shone through the gray clouds.

Slowly adjust the angle.

Suddenly, Futia coughed softly: "Excuse me for interrupting you."

The elf's words suddenly became extremely humble, and his tone became incredibly gentle.

"It seems she was frightened by the power of the Giant Corpse Explosion," the paladin thought.

He put down the magic stone and looked at the elf: "Relax, Fytia, don't be like this."

The elf kept her eyelids lowered, raindrops falling on her eyelashes and slowly streaming down her cheeks.

"Was that small explosion a Sunfire Blast?" Futia cautiously raised her head. "You're a high-ranking mage, aren't you?"

“I am certainly not a high-ranking mage, I am a paladin, I have received a revelation—we discussed this issue yesterday afternoon, do you remember?”

The elf nodded quickly.

[Intimidation successful. Your intimidation skill level has been increased by 1.]

At that moment, Trier noticed that the elf's shoulders were trembling slightly.

"The rain is a bit cold." The elf seemed to notice her gaze and quickly said, "I, I didn't mean to be afraid of you—really!"

"That's too stubborn," Trier thought to himself.

"The explosion just now wasn't a Sunfire Explosion; it was just a corpse explosion with a high energy overload. The reason for its exaggerated power is that it compressed a quarter of the Death Wind in the entire Beaver Town—which means that as long as the first person dies from a corpse explosion, his body will also explode, and the new explosion will kill more people and cause more explosions."

"And this continuous chain reaction is completed in a very short time. When the magical effect produced by the explosion reaches the critical threshold, the chain reaction of the magical wind self-destruction will be initiated, which is why the wind of death can produce a huge explosion."

Frydia blinked: "This is Master Soth's theory about the annihilation of magical winds, if I remember correctly?"

The paladin remained silent—the elf was right. Soth's theory of magical annihilation had wide applications in spells that sought maximum damage. Since the theory's inception, the underlying logic of many spells focused on destructive power had changed—and this knowledge was quite profound, far more difficult to master than an introductory book like "The Fundamentals of Spell Combat."

“Fodia knows this, which proves that she has received fairly systematic and professional magical academic training.” Trier thought quickly. “This is very strange, since rangers should have nothing to do with these things.”

"She's clearly testing me by saying these things, but what's her purpose?"

Trier began to observe the elves closely.

Faudia was staring intently at him, and Trier could even see his own reflection in her azure eyes.

The next moment, the elf took a deep breath, as if she had made up her mind: "Mr. Trier!"

"I suspect your skill level is far superior to that of the court mages of the Orko people. Do you have any way to completely cure the blood plague?"

“Of course there is a way, but the cost is too high,” the paladin thought. “The benefits of treating an infected person are not proportional to the cost.”

"It's very strange that Futia is paying too much attention to curing the blood plague."

"Before answering her, I should first figure out the reason behind it."

With this thought in mind, the paladin said in a deep voice, "I don't understand—you are an elf, why are you so concerned about the misfortune that is happening here?"

"Then why did you rescue Harlan and Hurt yesterday?" The elf turned his head away, no longer looking directly at Trier.

The paladin had a vague feeling that the elf wasn't telling the truth—he hated riddles and decided to stop beating around the bush and resolve the problem efficiently.

“I think the real reason you care about this issue is related to your deceased sister.”

Fythia's face stiffened, and after a long silence, she said in a barely audible voice, "How did you know?"

Chapter 28 The Drill Maker

The cold rain streamed down the back of the elf's hand, then slid onto her sister's last keepsake. The soft, warm ribbon was instantly soaked, and a chill crept through her fingertips.

Fythia felt uneasy, as if she had been seen through. She tried to observe the paladin closely, but to no avail. Trier, on the other side, maintained his calm expression, as if his words had been merely casual remarks.

"Is the soul possessing him truly a kind one?" The elf suddenly realized that he knew nothing about Trier, and his past presumptuous guesses had completely crumbled.

The shock of the secret being exposed mingled with the rising suspicions, slowly fermenting into a hidden fear.

The next moment, the paladin suddenly revealed a warm smile and said with a smile, "I guessed."

"A guess?" Feudia was taken aback. She suddenly realized that she might have overcomplicated the matter.

—The other party's numerous precognitive actions over the past two days made her subconsciously believe that the paladin had special information channels.

Trier continued calmly, “Your behavior is strange, because normally elves wouldn’t be so concerned about external affairs. And when I asked you, you chose to evade the question, which proves that there must be something you don’t want to say.”

“To be honest, I know very little about you, only that your sister unfortunately died here.” The paladin paused, as if considering his words. “I don’t like to play riddles or beat around the bush, so I’ve tried to use the only information I have.”

"And then you admitted it yourself."

Futia suddenly felt her face burning. She chuckled dryly twice and then fell silent.

After a long pause, she said softly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hidden it."

"The Blood Plague is a man-made plague, and my sister was a victim of the experiment." The elf raised her head and secretly glanced at the paladin.

Trier nodded slightly.

“Long ears, you elves are a rare sight here,” the dwarf blacksmith suddenly said, his voice becoming extremely soft, as if he were worried about disturbing some wild beast.

The ranger noticed that the blacksmith's gaze kept unconsciously glancing towards Trier.

After a moment's hesitation, Fythia took a deep breath and then slowly said, "She... has some mental illness."

"She was once an extremely talented mage apprentice, but my mother... her mentor had too high expectations for her, and therefore was too strict in her education. She worked like a clockwork mechanism, and finally, after a failed experiment, she completely broke down."

"She locked herself in her room, refusing to eat or drink, and just kept crying."

"And then she cried herself blind?" Trier asked.

The elf grasped the black ribbon and nodded silently.

“We tried various methods to bring her back to normal, but unfortunately, they were of little use. Until one day, an ascetic who was visiting my mother learned about this.”

“He didn’t talk to my sister, he just sat in the meeting room for an afternoon, and then my sister miraculously recovered—she suddenly realized something, and then suddenly ran away from home a few days later.”

"No wonder his experience points are so high, he's a mage who also works as a monk." An untimely thought flashed through Trier's mind.

"After that, she traveled around and a long time passed like that." The elf paused, "until a few months ago, I suddenly lost contact with her, and after my request to the embassy to search for her was unsuccessful, I decided to look for her myself."

"Then I found out she was dead—just yesterday."

"That's really bad news," the blacksmith said dryly.

“She died from an extremely cruel experiment, the product of which was the Blood Plague. Therefore, from the perspective of revenge, I not only hope to kill Bishop Vercingetori, the person in charge of the experiment, but also hope to eradicate the Blood Plague itself.” Futia slowly raised her head and looked at the paladin.

"I'm sorry, I...I don't want to publicize my family's scandal. You...you can..."

“The blood plague can be cured,” Trier interrupted.

The elf was stunned, and then her eyes lit up with anticipation. She was about to express her gratitude when the paladin continued, "But the price is high. Perfectly curing an infected person requires a large amount of diamond powder—and the blood plague has already spread widely."

"Is it a restoration spell?" the elf asked.

"No, it's a special kind of divine magic, because the blood plague is... a very special thing."

Fythia fell silent. She knew that some spellcasting experts could use magical winds to eliminate the need for casting materials for common spells, but this was impossible for special spells.

She quickly calculated the number of diamonds needed to cure the infected in Beaver Town—a staggering figure. Even if she could buy a large number of diamonds at a low price, she would still need at least 5000 gold dragons.

As a renowned ranger and spellcaster, the princess paid her only 50 gold dragons a month to work for the investigation team.

"Diamond powder?" the blacksmith's voice suddenly rose. "Hey, I have plenty here!"

Suddenly, the blacksmith took out a bag from his finely crafted clothes, which contained three diamonds.

"How do you have so many diamonds?" The paladin's voice was filled with disbelief.

"He'll be surprised too?" Futia thought to herself.

A smile involuntarily appeared on her face.

“Martha loves diamonds, and I wanted to surprise her—my hometown, Shining Peak, has the technology to make diamonds. Before I came here to settle down and become a blacksmith, I was an adventurer, and for more than fifty years before that, I was a diamond maker in the city.”

“Since these diamonds can help those unfortunate people, I am willing to donate them, after all, Martha is now... dead.”

“I thought you were greedy. I’m sorry, you are a noble person,” Trier said.

"My wife is dead, what's the use of saving so much money?"

When Trier returned to the outer edge of the hotel, he was surprised to find that the walls of the hotel courtyard, which served as a defensive fortification, had collapsed.

The streets were deathly silent; there were neither wandering spirits nor patrolling guards.

"This is quite different from the plan..." he thought to himself.

Just then, a suppressed cough came from inside the courtyard.

P.S.: How come the number of favorites suddenly doubled...? That's terrifying.

Thank you all for the generous donations, recommendations, requests for updates, and comments! I've been quite busy these past two weeks, but the update speed will increase significantly after this week.

Chapter 29 Longwei

The sound of coughing echoed through the deathly silent street, but was quickly drowned out by the patter of rain.