Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

"Nedodichka, have they retreated?"

The Archbishop of Decay, Fa Mo, stood holding a pocket watch, his deep green scholar's robe particularly striking in this snow-covered world.

He wore a calm smile, looking towards the north, indifferent to the cold and unscathed.

In contrast, Tolyado across from him looked slightly disheveled.

"What, can't you just run away too?"

Tolyado was surrounded by a translucent cubic outline, and if not for the defense provided by this six-sided spatial barrier, he wouldn't know how long he could withstand Fa Mo.

"Let's call it a day, there will be time in the future, we'll have another battle."

The Archbishop picked up a box from the ground and started walking away.

"Haha, I'd rather not face you again."

Tolyado sneered, seeing that the Archbishop was also willing to end the fight.

If it weren't for the severe shortage of manpower in this Blood Moon City's siege, he wouldn't know how he could have held on against Fa Mo for so long.

If the fight continued, he would have no mana left and would indeed die.

"There will be an opportunity, once the Holy Father emerges, it might become another story, and we will surely meet again."

Fa Mo slowed his pace, turning his face sideways to make a comparison that Tolyado, the playwright, would understand more easily.

Moreover, considering the current level theory spreading in the Hutton Kingdom, if this story was version 89, then the next might be version 99, with the huge unexplored maps gradually opening, revealing that the southern side of this South Continent is just the tip of the iceberg.

"Are you saying the Lost Continent behind the Calamity Servitude will eventually connect with us here?"

Tolyado's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"If they don't converge, then the 'Prophecy' of the Magic Codex would be wrong."

The Archbishop of Decay's figure melted into the pitch-black wind and snow,

"Whether the Magic Codex is a 'book of prophecy' or a 'book of conditions,' you should also want to know the answer, right?"

Fa Mo's final voice vanished with the howling storm, leaving Tolyado to raise his hand to block the biting cold, and when he lowered his hand, the presence of the Archbishop of Decay Fa Mo had completely disappeared.

Tolyado stood in place, lost in thought for a long time.

"Go to the Soul Hall to help Isatia. With your assistance, you can kill the Ninth Progenitor Marquis Bainhardt."

Abigail's directive voice interrupted Tolyado from the earpiece.

She was blunt only with Tolyado.

"Oh, oh, I'm on it."

Tolyado hurriedly agreed.

"Open the teleport, hurry up! You clumsy pig, get to work!"

Seeing that Tolyado was no longer in danger, Abigail no longer had the rare concern she showed at the beginning.

...

The second sun rose over the Blood King Palace Square when the Hall of Annihilation was broken through.

Lanci switched back from maneuvering with Rashal to a state of summoning the Mad Love Demon King under the Black Sun.

Rashal, hearing Calila's Demon Sound, held his head in agony once again, tearing at his scalp.

"Thank you, Rashal, if not for you, I wouldn't have given my life soul to him, thereby becoming his guardian spirit to stay by his side forever."

Talia, like Lanci, reviewed the situation with Rashal.

She hugged Lanci first, then ran to fight Rashal.

"Rashal, would your True King embrace you like this?"

Lanci stood quietly by, his emerald eyes serene under the silver-white mask.

"Lankros—!!"

Faced with Lanci's taunts, Rashal couldn't lay a finger on him.

As the battle reached an intense phase, the entire square was in shambles.

The ground was uneven, the Blood King Palace columns collapsed, the walls crumbled, like a massive earthquake had struck, riddled with deep cracks as if leading to hell.

"If this action hurt you, then I'm truly sorry."

Lanci shook his head helplessly.

"Ahhhh!"

The air was thick with the choking smell of dust, and the Shining Virtue shone through the haze, making the Blood King Palace look especially dim.

Spatial rifts cut across the sky, bursting like giant serpents.

The defeat of Marquis Somerset brought unprecedented weakness, making Rashal feel a profound sense of defeat and humiliation.

Rashal finally came to terms with reality.

The reincarnated Lankros before him, though not yet as formidable as the Lankros at the end of the Blood Moon Bad World, exerted a suppressive force once gaining the advantage that was no weaker than Lankros, not giving his opponent the slightest chance.

Unable to kill him, unable to counter him, if the other Blood Clan members couldn't defeat his companions, there was no hope of breaking him.

Gradually, Rashal's mentality began to collapse.

"Lankros! How did you become so despicable!"

Rashal, the Third Ancestor, weakly screamed from the ground.

He was covered in wounds, his robe in tatters, marked by scorch marks.

"You are no longer a strong person, but have become a weak person dependent on external forces! You deviant!"

Rashal's face was pale as a sheet, blood trickling from his mouth, his eyes filled with bloodshot veins.

The current Lankros just reminded Rashal of the ancient legend of the Ninth-order Great Demon, Sathya of Despair.

Standing before Sathya, who could summon an army of summons replicating his opponents, without the means to counter such a Great Demon, he would be utterly crushed.

And at this moment, Rashal felt this terrifying suppressive force by the summoned creatures driving him to impotence.

"This is called the power of friendship and the bond of camaraderie."

Lanci corrected Rashal with logical clarity.