Muttering incoherent syllables filled with threatening words, the demons’ voices reached the ears of the wizards.
It’s worth mentioning that perhaps inheriting some age-old vice from their demonic ancestors, the demons’ love for pre-combat babble was even more frequent than that of many wandering wizards. For those with lesser strength, it might create psychological pressure, but for them, it was utterly meaningless.
“Break through the encirclement, commence battle.”
…
The dance of combat in the sky never ceased.
The grand play set in Lassudral wasn’t just being closely watched by Fafnir in secret; many powerful beings in the Abyss had also set their sights on this place.
In the graveyard of the Land of Repose, the beautiful sounds of a harp combined with an alluring female voice echoed.
Suddenly, the music stopped abruptly.
In the tavern at the center of the graveyard, Baltica, who was playing the crystal harp, suddenly paused; she lifted her head and looked towards an unknown part of the Void, her gaze deep in thought.
“A new Fire Monarch has actually emerged from a Half-Blood Demon, interesting.”
Quickly, Baltica averted her gaze, her slender, pale fingers placed upon the strings of the crystal harp, and the snake with its tail in its mouth ring on her little finger glowed faintly. As her fingers moved once again, the melodious music resumed, but unlike the previous serenade, this time Baltica played an epic anthem.
In the Abyssal Depth, an indescribable world existed.
The night spread across the sky, with gentle moonlight illuminating the earth.
It was hard to imagine such a world existed in the timeless abyss, a world with tender night skies and bright stars.
Unfortunately, no matter how beautiful the night, there was no life to appreciate it.
The land bathed in moonlight was barren, with nothing but parched soil; there was no greenery here. This was a world abandoned, where no life could survive for long.
Yet, in this desolate world void of life, there stood a structure that was starkly out of place with its surroundings.
This building had a solemn and respectful air, as if it were situated in the bustling centre of human society, not somewhere like this.
Tall and pointed towers glowed with dazzling lights; stained glass windows gave off a sacred vibe; statues of various deities carved around the exterior lent an even more awe-inspiring solemnity to the architecture.
This was a library.
Though it appeared like a holy sanctuary, under the elegant and refined chandeliers within were shelves after shelves full of books.
Despite the countless volumes it housed, the entire library was deserted, save for one life.
A small, tailed demon sat at a large desk, pen in hand furiously writing on parchment, the scratching sound filling the room. A lamp burned slowly on the desk, its dim yellow light shone on the silent study.
Suddenly, the pen of the tailed demon broke as it was writing a certain word.
It was taken aback for a moment, looking at the word it had only written halfway: “Asga…”
A strange laugh escaped its mouth.
After laughing, it turned its head to look towards a certain place in the void. It saw the sky where flames were gathering and the struggle between demons and humans.
However, none of this interested it; its gaze was fixed on a tall figure wearing a pure white mask.
Its eyes gleamed with an almost imperceptible sharpness.
After a while, it looked away and once again took out a quill from the desk, dipped it into a bottle of brand new ink that emitted a ghostly glow, and wrote a passage on the parchment.
“Primeval Flame as the key, drawing from the boundless Void, leading to the times of old. The buried glory of Asgard shall eventually be unlocked.”
Having recorded the passage, it casually stuck the parchment onto its tail.
At this moment, its hook-like tail held not just parchment, but also books with covers of various colors.
These books were written in different languages. On the spine of one book, written clearly in the common tongue of humans, read: “Study and Improvement of Abyssal Inscriptionology.”