Chapter 988: Chapter 987: The Situation

The cold wind over the sea roared past the barrier, the background of sky and sea constantly receding in view, and the outline of the land was getting closer, with communication with the Northport hub becoming clearer.

Melita was clearly speeding up.

"Maybe it’s just the Mithril Ring that’s broken," though worried about the situation between Cecil and Typhon, Gawain casually said to Lady Dragon, "Talronde’s technology is advanced, but nothing is imperishable."

"Probably," Melita seemed somewhat distracted, "Anyway, we must hurry... Something big is really going to happen this time."

Gawain didn’t respond, simply turned his head and looked far into the direction of Northport’s coastline, remaining silent for a long time.

Nearby, Veronica, who was resting with her eyes closed, suddenly opened them. The "Saint Princess" stood up, looking thoughtfully towards the land, a trace of confusion appearing on her face.

But the expression did not last long; after a few seconds of gazing, she withdrew her sight, returning to her calm yet lack of humanity demeanor.

...

Deep in the wasteland, trees clustered around the shock crater formed by the explosion of the ancient Empire city.

A blue-white light beam, as if piercing the heavens and earth, surged out from the center of the impact crater, its bright light illuminated the dark and polluted ground. Meanwhile, in the sprawling "forest" growing around the crater, similar streams of blue-white light were constantly leaping and flowing among the intertwined, converging, and merging branches and vines. Countless bizarre "plants" were like the nerve synapses of some colossal organism, entwined into a massive aggregate, stretching several kilometers wide centered on the ancient imperial capital. The stolen energy flowed like chemical substances and electrical signals between nerve synapses, endlessly circulating within this vast and tangled system.

But suddenly, this tense and busy "flow" halted abruptly. The light jumping rapidly between branches and vines instantly froze and flickered a few times as if suffering a short circuit. Within seconds, the entire expanse of "forest" dimmed and reverted to the appearance of the Black Forest.

At the center of the forest, within the buffer zone connecting with the edge of the ancient explosion crater, thick smoke rose with several intense flashes. A dozen thick vines, blasted off, flew into the air, quickly retracting into the forest like elastic ropes swiftly pulled back. Watching these vines being controlled, "Archbishop" Bolken roared angrily, "Twins! What are you doing?!"

A gust of wind blew by, and Fyrna and Lelena appeared before Bolken, still wrapped in the lingering afterglow of magic power. Both elves spoke in unison, "Saving your life, Archbishop."

Nearby, on the inner wall of the crater, the remnants of blasted plant structures have turned to ash, while a large energy conduit begins to shine brightly once more.

Bolken’s branches rustled noisily, his deeply wrinkled face emerging from the bark. "What happened?"

"The efficiency of the Ophelia Matrix is recovering; she has started scanning and resetting the energy conduits, my respected Archbishop," Lelena said the first half, and Fyrna immediately connected the sentence without delay, "Looks like she’s ’returning.’ If we don’t plan to fight the Iron Soldier Corps now, we’d better leave this place immediately."

"What..." Bolken was shocked, and then showed a furious expression, "Damn, damn... so early... just a little bit more, the catalysis process was just a little bit short..."

His branches shook with anger, the entire twisted "Black Forest" also trembling, fearful rustling echoing from all directions as if the entire forest was roaring in fury. But Bolken did not lose his judgment; realizing his anger was futile, he decisively issued the order to evacuate—twisted plants began to pull out their roots, disassemble the entwined vines and branches. The entire Black Forest, amidst the sound of rustling, instantly disassembled into countless pieces and began dispersing swiftly towards various parts of the wasteland.

"Be optimistic, Archbishop," Lelena watched Bolken angrily commanding the evacuation, with an indifferent expression, "We hadn’t thought we could extract so much energy from the conduits initially—the catalysis hasn’t completed entirely, but we’ve already completed most of the work. Subsequent conversion can be done gradually. Ensuring safety is the most important before anything else."

Bolken turned his face, those yellowish-brown eyes embedded in the mottled bark looked at Lelena and Fyrna. After a moment, he nodded, "You’re right."

The Black Forest evacuation was proceeding in an orderly manner, Archbishop Bolken and several main Archbishops soon left the area, but Lelena and Fyrna did not immediately follow. The elven twins simply stood quietly on the crater’s edge, gazing into the distance at the enormous crystal cone, blue-white energy beam recessed like a volcano.

They could feel the "non-human soul" within the deep crystal cone gradually awakening—not fully awake, but it’s already opened one eye.

"Has she discovered us?" Lelena suddenly asked, seemingly talking to herself.

"Probably not—the direct probing module of the Ophelia Matrix was permanently damaged hundreds of years ago. Now, besides the most basic damage alert systems, she can only rely on the Iron Soldier Corps to understand the situation around the impact crater," Fyrna answered, also sounding self-talk, "Our actions were cautious, always staying in the blind spot of the Iron Soldier Corps and alert systems."

"...Truly pathetic," Lelena looked at the distant crystal cone, with a tone of unclear whether mocking or self-mocking, "Once such a glorious star among stars, the most beautiful and wisest Empire’s Pearl... Now just an undead unwilling to die, trapped within ruins and graves."

"The Defier is unwilling to bow or perish," Fyrna quietly said, then Lelena also spoke. They remarked in unison, "...Truly pathetic."

The strong wind rose, withered leaves swirled into the air, and after both wind and leaves dispersed, the silhouette of the elven twins had vanished at the crater’s edge.

...

The majestic triple spires covered the expansive council hall. In this splendid room, councilors from aristocratic, mage, scholar groups, and wealthy merchant groups were seated in rows of fan-shaped back chairs.

The bright glow emitted by magic crystal lamps poured from the dome, illuminating the faces within the council hall. Perhaps due to the lighting, these dignitaries’ faces appeared paler than usual. Against the councilors’ favorite black formal attire, these pale faces were like pebbles swaying within black mud, blind and meaningless.

A tense and oppressive atmosphere enveloped this place—though it was mostly oppressive here, today’s oppression surpasses any other time.

The continuous buzzing in the hall was the sound of councilors whispering to each other. Small groups of acquaintances were discussing some sensational news, but more councilors were focusing on the most special spot at the front of the hall—where the royal representative’s seat was now empty, only two fully armed knights and a few attendants stood not far behind the seat.

Earl Dule sat in his own spot, somewhat agitatedly turning a luxurious ring with a large gemstone. He turned the gem towards his palm, gripping it hard until he felt a slight sting before releasing, turning the gem back and forth—doing this meaningless task, his ears were filled with discussions full of pessimism and frustration, or blind confidence and enthusiasm.

The Empire and the Cecil Clan suddenly entered a state of war... It seems there are traitors hidden among the aristocratic groups at various levels... The Sect of the God of War has been infiltrated by defilers, and the death of Pope Malm Dunite is full of suspicious points... It seems there’s a purge or a purge has already begun within the army...

The sky over Aldernon was shrouded in dark clouds, and the ignorant lower class of the city was still clueless about the truth behind the oppressive and tense atmosphere recently. The aristocrats and representatives from wealthy citizens had the opportunity to access more internal information—but in Earl Dule’s view, the guys tensely whispering around him weren’t much better informed than the common folks.

At this moment, a voice came from not far away, across a few seats: "Earl, did you know the Protectorate Knight Order entered the Inner City District yesterday?"

Earl Dule instinctively frowned but adjusted his expression before turning his head. He looked towards the voice and saw a corpulent, balding man smiling at him. The man was wearing a tight-fitting formal suit, with a gold chain hanging from his chest pocket, and a thin chain holding a pair of gold glasses, which rested on the man’s nose, or rather, embedded in the fatty flesh of his face.

"Of course, this news has already spread among the councilors." Earl Dule nodded to the corpulent man, speaking with a moderate attitude.

"Something big is really about to happen, Earl," the corpulent man shook his head, the fat around his neck wobbling with it, "The last time the Protectorate Knight Order entered the Inner City District was over a decade ago..."

Earl Dule maintained a polite smile, casually agreeing with a couple of sentences, yet inwardly he was indifferent.

Polberg, a speculative merchant, had only doubled his worth over the past two years by riding the wave of the magical industry. Besides his father being a somewhat successful merchant, there was nothing noteworthy in his family lineage traceable to his grandfather, yet this kind of person could also appear under the triple spire of the parliament...

Earl Dule would not question the emperor’s decree, knowing that such special "seats" were needed in the parliament, but he still disliked speculative merchants like Polberg... Money really made such people swell too much.

These speculators, when facing aristocrats like himself, no longer even bothered with formalities, addressing him simply as "Sir"—something that any upper-class person who valued tradition and etiquette would see as a disruption to good order.

Yet even with such thoughts brewing in his mind, Earl Dule maintained decorous etiquette, casually chatting with Polberg about trivial matters, partly due to the necessary courtesy among aristocrats and partly because... Earl Dule’s cotton plantations and several factories still needed to conduct business with Polberg.

Fortunately, this conversation did not last long. With the corner of his eye, Earl Dule suddenly saw a golden door at the front of the hall being opened.

The councilors immediately quieted down, the buzzing in the hall ceased abruptly.

Wearing a black court gown, with long black hair falling to her waist, graceful and elegant, Princess Matilda emerged from the door. She glanced slightly in the direction of the hall, then proceeded to walk to her designated seat without looking aside.

Some attendants and warriors followed the princess inside as well.

Numerous eyes fell on Matilda, watching as this Empire’s Pearl moved forward, but Earl Dule’s gaze quickly fell upon the warriors accompanying the princess. Upon clearly seeing the appearance of those warriors, the Typhon aristocrat’s gaze subtly changed.

Fully black armor, with obsidian crystals embedded in the breastplate to amplify magic power, helmets bearing the royal insignia, and magical longswords and amplifying orbs at their waists.

The Obsidian Imperial Guard!

Since becoming a noble councilor, this was the first time Earl Dule had seen the Obsidian Imperial Guard set foot in this place!

He instinctively turned his gaze to the golden door and watched as one Obsidian Guardsman after another entered the hall, silently replacing the guards originally stationed throughout. After the last guardsman entered, he saw, as if expected, a heroic black-haired young man walking in.

Prince Hadrian.

As the prince who commanded the Obsidian Imperial Guard entered the hall, he seemed to stand guard at the door, scanning the entire hall as if counting heads.

The parliamentary hall, already silent, seemed even quieter at that moment, and amidst this silence... there seemed to be something more.

Earl Dule suddenly recalled a sentence the speculative merchant had said to him earlier.

This time... It seems something significant truly is afoot.

The next moment, Matilda sat down in her designated spot, gently knocking on the table in front of her, and the hall’s eyes instantly focused on her.

"Fellow councilors," she cleared her throat, eyes calmly surveying the increasingly pale faces in the lighting and black formal suits in the hall, "Today, we need to discuss a major proposal concerning the future of the Empire.

"By the command of His Majesty the Emperor, in accordance with our sacred and just laws, considering the vital interests of all citizens of the Empire, taking into account the ongoing state of war the Empire faces and various disturbing changes within the aristocratic system and church system, I now represent the Typhon Royal Family in proposing the following resolution—

"Invoke the Emperor’s highest decree power and temporarily close the Imperial Parliament."

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