Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 213: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Silence lingered heavily in the room, stretching like a suffocating shroud between the Oracle and Bishop Kelly.
The Oracle stared blankly at the carved ceiling above, his golden eyes dulled with a storm of emotion. Twice now—twice in swift succession—the name of the Celestial Temple had been dragged through the mud, its sacred dignity trampled by chaos. And both times, one name lingered at the heart of the storm. His fists trembled weakly beneath the silken sheets, not out of frailty, but from the fury quietly building inside him. Amid that rising anger, however, brewed something deeper, more corrosive—regret. Bitter, soul-staining regret. He had chosen mercy once. Perhaps too many times. Now, he was reaping the consequences.
"Your Grace… there's more," Bishop Kelly finally broke the silence, his voice low and cautious, as though the very air might shatter if he spoke too loud.
The Oracle's gaze slowly dropped from the ceiling to meet him. His body was too fragile to turn fully; even the motion of shifting his neck felt like inviting a wildfire into his bones. The tainted energy within him had settled like a poison, threatening to stir at the slightest provocation.
Seeing he had the Oracle's attention, Bishop Kelly continued, "There are… rumors. Word has it that the foreigner, Nemesis, plans to attack the Empire. In two days' time."
The Oracle's expression sharpened with disbelief.
"The Empire has sent a formal request," Kelly added. "Not out of desperation, but… as a chance. A gesture. They say it's an opportunity for us to redeem ourselves—and also earn the right to claim Nemesis after his capture."
The Oracle's brows furrowed in disbelief. To think the foreigner—Nemesis—would dare attack the Empire on his own... The idea felt absurd. Reckless. "It seems slaying the fallen divine being has gotten to his head," he muttered, voice laced with disdain. "Now he believes he is invincible."
He exhaled slowly, disappointment tightening his chest. Another man fallen to the illusion of power—like so many before him. Strength had become a crown too heavy for mortal minds to bear.
"Very well," the Oracle declared at last, his voice regaining its usual steel. "See to the dispatch of our forces. You are permitted to recruit as many Celestial Knights, Mages, and Archers as required. We must remind the world of the might of our temple—and how mercilessly we destroy those who dare oppose it."
Even while bedridden, the lion's heart within the Oracle roared with undying authority.
Bishop Kelly bowed, unable to suppress the admiration swelling in his chest. "Thank you, Your Grace… for granting me this responsibility once again."
He turned and left swiftly, his mind already racing with strategies. The war drums would sound in two days.
---
---
"Hah… hah… hah…" Kate panted heavily, each breath like a burning rasp in her throat. Sweat soaked her clothes, clinging to her as she knelt on one knee, her arms trembling from overexertion.
Sabbah stood beside her, his figure statuesque and untouched by fatigue. He didn't even appear winded, as if her grueling training session had been little more than a minor distraction to him. Watching him was like observing a silent observer, yet she knew better—he was her tormentor, mentor, and the fire pushing her beyond her limits.
"Get up," he said coldly. "There's still much to be taught."
Kate clenched her teeth, pushing herself upright despite the searing protest of her muscles.
"You wish to stand beside him, don't you?" Sabbah continued, his voice hard as steel. "Then you must become strong enough to do so. As you are now, you are too weak. While your shadow abilities have improved significantly in-game, you have yet to reach the minimum threshold I deem passable."
He folded his arms, his intense gaze cutting into her.
"To the outside world, this apocalypse may be a game—a means to gain power, wealth, and fame. But to us… it is no more than a whetstone. We already hold the power they crave. What we require is refinement."
Kate nodded silently, absorbing every word despite the fatigue threatening to drown her.
After thirty minutes of rest, Sabbah clapped once.
"We continue."
He raised a single finger, and a lone tendril of shadow coiled before him like a serpent poised to strike.
"Attack me using your shadow abilities. Be creative. Be deliberate in your intensity. That's all I require of you to pass this test."
The rules were simple: make him take a single step back, and she would succeed. But in the many days that had passed, she had yet to force him to move even an inch.
---
---
Two days passed in silence, and then, it was time.
The wind whispered softly through the trees, rustling leaves and scattering petals through the air like fragments of a dream. Greg sat perched on a high branch, letting the breeze wash over him. The calm before the storm. A silence that preceded chaos.
His wings were folded behind him, and his gaze stared far ahead, sharp and contemplative. freёnovelkiss.com
"What do you want?" he asked coldly without turning, sensing the approach behind him. "I believe I made it clear when I denied your request to join me."
Brian stepped out from the shade of the trees. "I remember," he said firmly. "But I'm not here to beg. I have my own score to settle with the Grey Empire. I'll fight—whether you approve or not."
Greg glanced over his shoulder, his gaze momentarily narrowing. Then he dropped from the tree, landing soundlessly on his feet. He walked toward Brian until the space between them was but a breath. Without a word, he turned again.
"Fine. You can pick up the pieces. The knights that survive me—those are yours."
As he walked away, Brian called out, "The Empire isn't what it appears. The Emperor… he's planning something. He's been dealing with shadow merchants. He created something called shadow sla—"
Greg froze mid-step.
His head turned, eyes blazing. "What did you just say?"
Brian hesitated at the sharpness in Greg's voice, but he stood his ground. "The Emperor made a deal with shadow merchants to create shadow slaves. Commander Joshua completed the transaction. That's why I killed him."
But Greg wasn't listening to the rest. His mind spun at the term—shadow slaves.
In his past life, such beings were whispered about only in elite circles. Defective monsters, used in secret operations. They were rare, lethal, and unstable. Few ever encountered them and survived. Those who did often said the same thing: they'd rather face a Celestial than a shadow slave.
Yet the Empire had no known connection to their creation—until now.
The butterfly effect had begun.
Everything was changing.
"Change of plan," Greg said sharply, wings unfurling with a sudden gust. "Tell everyone forming the new guild to gather at my old guild headquarters. This battle… will be louder than I anticipated."
With that, he launched into the sky, a blur against the fading light, leaving Brian behind.
Brian stared after him, puzzled. What were shadow slaves, and why had the very mention of them shaken Greg so deeply?
He had no answer.
Shrugging, he pulled out his interface and posted on the newly created forum for the guild-to-be, informing them of the sudden change. Then, he turned toward the nearest teleportation city—he wasn't about to miss the coming storm.
Not for anything in the world.
