Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 190 - : DEMON WAVE II
"How prepared are the knights?" the Oracle asked, his voice low but firm as his gaze settled on Bishop Kelly, the high-ranking bishop charged with commanding the Celestial Knights.
They stood within the great hall of the Celestial Cathedral, bathed in golden light streaming through stained glass windows that depicted legendary scenes of divine battles. The tension in the air was palpable, like the moment before a storm.
"They are prepared, Your Grace," Bishop Kelly responded with a bow, his expression resolute yet weary. "Every knight has been deployed to key locations across the continent. The bulk of our forces are stationed alongside the Grey Empire's knights. Since most of our believers and priests reside within the Empire's territory, I believed it wiser to concentrate our strength there. We intend to safeguard both the faithful and our foundation."
The Oracle slowly nodded, his lips tightening with grim approval. "Good," he said, before turning his eyes to the other bishop in the room.
"And what of the preparations for the arrival of the Celestial Messenger?" he asked Bishop Lewis, who stood solemnly with his hands clasped over a scroll inscribed with holy script.
"Everything is in place, Your Grace," Lewis said, his voice calm but filled with reverence. "We've gathered thousands of believers in our sacred sites. Their prayers are rising like a tide—strong, unwavering, fueled by hope. It will be enough to draw the Messenger."
The Oracle's expression remained unreadable. He tapped the floor with his staff, the soft clink echoing ominously. "There can be no room for error," he said, his tone final. "Should this operation fail… the consequences will be devastating. You both understand what is at stake."
Neither bishop responded with words, only nods and grim determination.
"You may go," the Oracle said at last, and the two bishops turned to carry out their duties, their cloaks billowing behind them like heavy clouds.
Time ticked by with dreadful slowness, like the dying heartbeat of peace.
[Time remaining: 3 minutes 23 seconds]
Suddenly, a wave of system messages appeared before the players in the world:
[Players of the Celestial Camp must select a kingdom or empire to aid in the defense against the demon wave.]
[Players will be teleported to the kingdom of their choosing.]
[Players of the Demon Camp must select a kingdom to attack alongside the demons.]
[Players will be teleported near the selected kingdom.]
[Choices must be made before the countdown ends.]
The world stood at the precipice of chaos, and players across the map now had only moments to make their decisions.
"I guess it's come to this," Will muttered, rubbing his chin as the glowing menu floated in front of him. He stood beside a campfire where Brian and the others had gathered after a long day of preparation. "It'd be wiser to spread out instead of everyone concentrating on a single kingdom. The rewards will scale with performance anyway."
"I agree with you," Jessica said, tightening the straps on her armor. Her gaze was sharp, calculating. "This is the best way to maximize gains in a system like this. Each of us can make a greater impact individually."
"Then let's do just that," Thomas replied, already rising to his feet. The wind tugged at his long coat as he activated his interface. Without hesitation, he chose his destination.
[All Stainless Steel guild members are to select Grey Empire as their chosen kingdom to defend.]
—Dual Blade
The message lit up in the guild chat seconds before Thomas vanished in a burst of white light, his choice made.
"Well, that solves who's going to Grey Empire," Will muttered with a smirk. "Thanks, Dual Blade." He tapped the interface, choosing Secret Valley Kingdom, then added a message in his guild chat before disappearing as well.
The rest of the group lingered for just a moment longer, exchanging quick nods, some with quiet resolve, others with adrenaline-fueled excitement.
Soon, one by one, they made their selections—and vanished into the coming storm.
Elsewhere—
Annabelle walked in silence, boots crunching over dead leaves and loose gravel. The wilderness stretched endlessly before her, thick with overgrown trees and shadows. Azrael walked beside her, just as quiet, though his eyes never stopped watching her.
She hadn't said a word in the last half-hour. Her expression was distant, troubled. It wasn't the quiet of peace—it was the silence of inner turmoil.
Her brother's voice still echoed in her mind: "Stop living in my shadow."
"What's the matter?" Azrael finally asked, breaking the silence. He glanced at her with concern. The usual fire in her gaze had dimmed. She looked like she was struggling to find something she couldn't name.
Annabelle stopped walking. The wind ruffled her cloak as she turned to face him.
"I was just thinking... about what my brother said. He told me to stop living in his shadow and find my own path. But I don't even know what that means," she admitted, voice low. "Should I abandon everything he taught me? Do I just... start over?"
Azrael shook his head. "No, I don't think that's what he meant. He's not telling you to throw everything away. He wants you to grow—use what he gave you as a foundation, not a cage."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You admire him. That's obvious. And you're trying to follow in his footsteps—subduing demons, chasing divinity. But maybe you're not doing it your way. You're doing it his way."
He reached out and gently took her hand, his tone softening. "You're not him. Even if you share blood—or think you do—your path will always look different. And that's okay."
Annabelle gave a small nod. She didn't correct him—didn't tell him the truth about where her talent came from. Letting him believe they shared the same bloodline was easier. Safer.
"Thanks," she murmured.
She opened her status screen. Her eyes scanned the abilities linked to her talent—abilities she had once cherished. But now, looking at them, she realized how little she'd truly explored them.
"This..." she whispered. A spark lit in her chest. "I've been wasting potential."
Back in the Empire—
"My Lord, you can't possibly take part in this battle!" the general of the Imperial Guards pleaded, eyes wide with desperation. "Please, allow us to defend the Empire in your stead. We cannot risk your life!"
Emperor Augustus stood tall as his maids secured the final pieces of his ornate black-gold armor, adorned with the crest of the Grey Empire. He looked every inch the warrior king he had once been.
"I wish to take part in this battle," Augustus said evenly. "I cannot—will not—hide in safety while my knights and citizens fight and die. I must stand with them. Besides..." He smirked faintly. "It's been too long since I've stretched my limbs on the battlefield."
General Harold was stunned silent. Then, slowly, he dropped to one knee and bowed deeply. novelbuddy.cσ๓
"Then I will protect you with my life, Your Majesty," he swore, eyes burning with renewed loyalty.
The Emperor nodded, flexing his arms as the armor hugged his frame with surprising ease. Despite the passage of years, his body remained strong, the result of relentless training and unyielding discipline.
"Staying fit was the right choice," he muttered to himself with a dry chuckle. He drew his sword, its polished steel gleaming.
He stepped onto the castle's high wall, gazing down at the troops below. His presence was a beacon. The sight of their Emperor standing armored and ready sent a ripple through the ranks—gasps, cheers, and roaring cries of loyalty.
Morale soared.
