Free Web NovelChapter 597: Chapter 596: Grim Reaper_1
Mr. Crimson once thought he would never return here.
Before his eyes lay the entrance to a valley, located in the northern mountainous region of the Gistas Kingdom, once territory of the Old Lese Kingdom. Within it was a town that was abandoned a hundred years ago due to the plague.
The town was built on a mine, producing rare metals. It still had considerable wealth of mineral resources when it was abandoned, which should have made it highly valuable for redevelopment.
However, the never-returning gold-seekers and adventurers, along with mysterious plagues repeatedly breaking out in the government-supported redevelopment plans, cursed this land with the infamous title of "Cursed Land."
Mr. Crimson knew the truth behind this "curse"; he had once stayed here.
This was the core stronghold of the old Blood Moon Cult, a remote place where the bloodline that worshiped the god of death gathered—because their god resided here.
This was the territory of the god of death.
He entered the valley alone and saw the decayed town’s welcome sign. The name of the town, written on it, was no longer legible. A mass of dark clouds shrouded the entire town’s sky, blocking out sunlight.
The town was as quiet as a tomb, but shortly after Mr. Crimson stepped into it, he faintly heard ghostly whispering noises.
"It’s him!"
"The damn traitor!"
"He actually dares to show up here..."
"Kill him!!"
"I want to drain his blood!!"
...
Hostility hit him like a volley of arrows, coming from the vampires dwelling in this dead land. Mr. Crimson had once led the human followers within the Cult to serve the god of death, but not long after joining, he betrayed the Cult, switched allegiance to another ruler, and took away a large number of human followers.
In the eyes of these vampires, who had been served by human followers and held themselves in high esteem, his actions were overreaching and arrogant and deserved punishment.
But no one dared to punish him. Just as he was standing there now, the vampires only dared to throw hateful glances at him from the dark interiors of buildings and behind walls, and not a single one dared to make a move.
"It’s a bit impolite for nobles to have a guest without offering hospitality," Mr. Crimson muttered a Divine Word under his breath while scanning his surroundings.
Soon, he noticed a female vampire hiding behind a bungalow. Their eyes met.
The vampire instinctively tried to dodge, but Mr. Crimson had already used his power.
The power of "betrayal" momentarily reversed her fear and hostility. The female vampire appeared and walked up to Mr. Crimson, bowing in greeting.
"Since no one here feels qualified to speak to me, then take me directly to your master," Mr. Crimson commanded the female vampire.
The vampires hiding in the shadows looked at each other in dismay, and after a while, someone let out a cold laugh.
The traitor had truly gone mad, actually intending to disturb the sleeping god of death. The very man who had once split the Blood Moon Cult was presenting himself at their doorstep—how could the god of death possibly spare him?
Mr. Crimson himself felt like he might be going mad to take such a suicidal risk. The power of "hatred" compelled irrational actions, but the power’s bearer became more mad, not more foolish.
He knew what he was doing, he had his own purpose.
In his eyes, there was no longer any hope for his revenge.
After being persuaded to turn back by that bizarre ruler, he believed Aiden Galahad had reached the level of a saint.
What was worse, not only had he failed to obtain the Hand of Obliteration, but he had also allowed the Divine Artifact to fall into the hands of his adversary.
He had to face reality, his chances of victory were slim.
Therefore, he needed additional, sufficiently powerful aid.
Azrael, the Grim Reaper, once unleashed a plague in the Old Lese Kingdom in an attempt to weaken the Kingdom’s power before seizing the "power of proliferation" from the royal family, and this town was the first sacrifice.
However, his endeavor was interfered with by the Goddess of Conspiracy. Azrael killed the "Lust" ruler but failed to seize the power and had his spirit corrupted by the other’s force.
To prevent the corruption from spreading, the Reaper put himself into "eternal slumber" — the domain of death allowed him to evade certain negative states in death, awakening only when necessary.
Ultimately, the female vampires brought Mister Bloodclothes to the town’s cemetery, which had been greatly expanded during the epidemic that had raged that year. However, the pace of expansion couldn’t keep up with the rate of deaths, and what was left was just a large, disorderly burial ground.
Normally, after being abandoned for a century, the weeds on the graves should have been outrageously tall, and the tombstones overgrown with vines. But this cemetery seemed unusually clean, without a speck of moss or an ant in sight.
"Since you are close to the Reaper within the Blood Moon Cult, you should all be able to directly summon him," said Mister Bloodclothes. "Lead me to him."
"Great Reaper, please forgive my presumption," the female vampire lifted up her arms high, performing the ritual.
Suddenly, without warning, she stiffened.
"Presumption must be atoned for with death," a weak voice sounded by her ear.
The female vampire suddenly let out a painful howl, as if burned by sunlight though there was none, the scorching wounds appeared on her body. White smoke rose from her body, like a fish thrown onto a fire to be seared.
Her voice soon stopped, then her head drooped lifelessly, and she died covered in wounds. freēwebnovel.com
But the dead female vampire did not fall down; instead, her head slowly lifted again, her blood-red eyes shining with a sinister, ghostly light.
She had been killed by the Reaper, then controlled by the power of the "Undead." The domain of "Death" allowed her to escape from mental control, the Reaper reclaimed her loyalty, turning both her soul and body back into his own property.
"Please forgive my boldness in calling upon you, Reaper," Mister Bloodclothes bowed to the puppeteered female vampire.
He knew the true body of the Reaper was within the afterworld he had created, and the Reaper could manipulate the dead to communicate with the living outside.
"Have you finished your last words?" the Reaper asked, pointing a finger at Mister Bloodclothes.
"You only need a moment to kill me, why not hear me out?"
"Your sole domain is more useful than your ghost tales," said the Reaper, each word seemed laborious, "Give it to me... now."
"You cannot assimilate the ’Hatred’ domain, and the ritual of ’Betrayal’ power demands that one must betray someone more powerful than oneself — though the condition of ’more powerful’ requires one’s personal conviction. But it must be difficult for you to meet this condition now," Mister Bloodclothes said calmly, spreading his hands, "Forgive my candor, but you too are at a loss over your own situation. Killing a variable that has come knocking at your door, you will only have to keep ’eternally slumbering’ here."
After a moment of silence, the Reaper spoke through the controlled female vampire: "You have twenty seconds, traitor."
