The Warden of Sexy Witches

Chapter 632: Chapter 631 Embrace Death_1

This space was pitch-black, devoid of light, sound, and almost everything, yet Mr. Blood Cloak felt a kind of indescribable peace, as if this was the place where he truly belonged.

Indeed, the realm of the dead was the most suitable place for a corpse, and not long ago, he had completely forsaken his life and plunged headfirst into the domain of death.

Is this what it feels like for the dead to slumber? Not bad at all.

Desires associated with the flesh such as hunger and lust had all faded away, but the cravings of the spirit were still alive and kicking, the pursuit of power and revenge still deeply rooted in his spirit, reminding him that he had not become a walking corpse.

A burst of laughter suddenly echoed out of place in this space, as cold and strange as a scavenging vulture, yet it carried a sense of frailty and decay.

Mr. Blood Cloak was truly startled; the voice clearly did not come from beyond the realm of the dead but was emitted by some existence within. He had forged this realm of the dead himself, a genuine otherworld; aside from him, there was only one other deceased being he had brought along.

"You embraced death without hesitation, well done, I am starting to like you," the voice said.

Mr. Blood Cloak turned his head and saw the other deceased being he had taken in, a High-Rank Bloodline, who had been in a slumber and whom Mr. Blood Cloak had hidden in a corner of this realm of the dead.

This deceased should have been completely under his control, but now it was possessed by something strange and began speaking on its own.

This could only mean that the being possessing the deceased claimed certain privileges in this space—its powers were likely even higher than those of Mr. Blood Cloak, the creator of this realm of the dead.

"My esteemed Death God, might you refrain from scaring me like this?" Mr. Blood Cloak realized who was speaking to him.

"The ability to create the realm of the dead was granted by me, and naturally, your realm of the dead is under my dominion," the Death God said in a weakening voice.

"It seems my actions have earned your approval, which is truly humbling," Mr. Blood Cloak smiled.

"Death is also a tool and a method, not many understand that," the Death God stated.

"I’ve told you, I’ll be your finest agent," Mr. Blood Cloak said, "You’re just realizing it a bit late."

"Whether you are excellent or not will be determined by your success. If you fail, you are still nothing," the Death God’s voice began to crack, as if resisting erosion deep within his spirit.

"It’s rare for you to be so spirited today. Do you mind if I ask a few questions, my esteemed Death God?" Mr. Blood Cloak suddenly asked. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"Be brief," the Death God replied.

"Do you remember what it felt like when you had fully grasped your powers?" Mr. Blood Cloak asked.

"You’ve stopped me... just to indulge in such a trivial conversation?" the Death God replied weakly, though there was no sign of irritation in his voice.

"Please forgive my slight presumption. I am just curious," Mr. Blood Cloak insisted.

"Obtaining the long-desired immortal powers, what else could I feel but joy?" answered the Death God indifferently, his voice betraying neither delight nor nostalgia, "You can imagine, just like in your dreams."

"So, is that why you continued to pursue the power of ’procreation’? Indeed, as a powerhouse, one should strive for the pinnacle of power," Mr. Blood Cloak confirmed his direction of pursuit was correct.

"No, I did so only because there was nothing else to do," said the Death God, "Satisfaction in immortality is fleeting; immortality means eternity, and the infinitely expanding time dilutes many things, leaving only the power itself."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Blood Cloak sensed the emptiness in the other’s voice.

"The answer to that question is beyond your comprehension, mortal. To truly understand, you need more than power; you need time," the Death God spoke faintly.

"Could you elaborate?" Mr. Blood Cloak wished to delve deeper into the topic.

"..." The reply was utter silence.

The Death God withdrew his consciousness, returning to a deep slumber, and the possessed corpse once again returned to a peaceful state of death.

Mr. Blood Cloak felt a tinge of regret. The Death God had always been wary of him, only briefly lucid during his intervals of deep sleep, so opportunities for such impromptu communication were rare.

"Master."

The call from outside the realm of the dead snapped him back to reality. He shifted his attention to the deceased being under his control that was moving about in the outside world, sharing its sensory perception of the external environment. He realized he might have to stay in this realm of the dead permanently, to prevent Aiden Galahad from pinpointing his location precisely.

The caller was a Blood Cultist Follower: "We have arrived."

Mr. Blood Cloak, controlling the deceased, looked around, and what he saw was an incredibly rundown stronghold; virtually everything had been smashed, destroyed, and even set on fire.

At the end of the massive steps lay a shattered altar with nothing on it. But Mr. Blood Cloak remembered—the goddess he was infatuated with often used to sit there.

This was once a stronghold set up by the Blood Moon Cult in the wilderness of Silvertown, nearly turned into ruins by the Heretic Inquisition.

He directed all his faithful followers to assemble at this new stronghold.

"I have returned," Mr. Blood Cloak smiled towards the altar.

...

Abigail’s summoning space.

"So, the Sword of Vengeance was taken after all?" Lamia’s voice was undisguised disappointment.

"It was never likely to be easily snatched away," Aiden remarked, "Don’t always hold on to unrealistic expectations; by now, he should have rendezvoused with the devotee entrusted with divinity and reclaimed his power."

"The issue now is, where did that guy escape to?" Qiqimora spoke, "He hasn’t slipped right through the warden’s intelligence network, has he?"

He most certainly almost had... Aiden thought to himself.

The sensibilities of the Goddess of Vengeance had always been the most reliable and effective radar, and without the radar’s function, he could be assaulted at any moment.

"I will manage to trace his whereabouts again," Aiden said, "But I guess since he has given up on continuing the cult’s development in Jun City, he must have moved directly to Silvertown. It probably won’t be long before he comes looking for us."

"A final confrontation draws near? Sounds like we should just stay put in your prison from now on," Lamia joked.

"Hmm?" Aiden raised an eyebrow, "That’s actually quite an... interesting suggestion."