After awakening his consciousness, bursts of pain surged through his entire body.

But it was something that Silent Disaster was used to—to fight against tides of enemies on the battlefield only to awaken in the Red Mist Pond again, that was his life. Every single time, it pushed him to his limits and allowed him to become stronger, and so the pain was a little price to pay.

But this time, it was different…

He woke up in a daze and flipped his body upside in the Red Mist as he tried to recall the response he had at that moment.

Was it an illusion?

Right at that moment, a ripple appeared in the Realm of Mind.

If he hadn’t been in the Birth Tower by chance and was in a half-awake and half-dream state of recovery, it would had been difficult to sense the faint fluctuation.

The occurrence of the ripple was rare, the last one to have induced it was the genius of the race, Ursrook.

That meant… the fall of a Senior Lord.

What exactly happened in the north?

Was it a mistaken illusion, or was the ripple a pure coincidence?

No, I need to verify this with Nassaupelle. In passing, I’ll also ask how long I have been asleep, as well as the situation on the Western Front.

Silent Disaster endured the pain and slowly crawled out of the Red Mist Pond, particularly slowing his steps when passing Valkries’ body—Although Sky Lord believed that the Nightmare Lord’s body was equally safe in Sky City, Silent Disaster insisted on bringing her on board the Deity of Gods. Although there was indeed considerations for her safety, it was more for another reason.

Since by doing so, as long as he was not in battle, he would always have her by his side.

“Don’t you worry, I will bring you his head,” Silent Disaster murmured.

He had engraved the appearance of the human male that appeared in the God’s Domain.

The man was undoubtedly the culprit that brought about Nightmare Lord predicament of being lost in the Realm of Mind.

Silent Disaster believed that only by beheading the person personally would it bring Valkries true peace.

…

In the experimental field, Silent Disaster found Mask, Nassaupelle.

“Your recovery was rather fast.” The other party clicked his tongue and commented, “Such a recovery speed is rarely seen even in a Senior Lord… I am truly curious of what sort of monster would manifest if you merged with a Symbiotic Demon.”

“…” Silent Disaster did not entertain the nonsense. “How long have I been in the Red Mist Pond?”

“It hasn’t even been a week. Currently the Deity of Gods has entered the Kingdom of Dawn’s land, but you missed out on the lowlifes panic and hysteria below. I merely shot a few of the living spears and their cities collapsed.” Nassaupelle cackled a sinister laughter. “Flames, trampling, screams, panic… that is how the lowlifes should act!”

“Has Hackzord been in contact with you?”

“Didn’t he say that he wanted to check on the sea of clouds personally, and reinforce the transit efficiency at the ridge? I wouldn’t believe that he will ever initiate reporting to me.” Mask shook his tall head. “To be honest, that should be his responsibility. The role as the Commander of the Western Front doesn’t fit him at all. The King just doesn’t want to see the strength at the main battlefield get affected and gave Sky Lord the responsibility here. In the end, isn’t it me, Nassaupelle, to be the one to clear up this mess?”

Silent Disaster’s heart plunged.

He had been in the Red Mist Pond for about a week, and with the time spent fighting the humans, it would have been more than two weeks. Even with the distance between their location and the ridge, the total duration was enough for Hackzord to shuttle back and forth two or three times.

Silent Disaster knew that the Sky Lord’s fighting capabilities was not exceptional. With the noticeable increase of Demonic Beasts sighted by sentries above the ocean over the recent half year, and the link of the two continents where the Sky-sea Realm was capable of using to attack from the rear, it was possible for something to have happened.

“Follow me to the Birth Tower.” Silent Disaster no longer hesitated. “I want to see the King.”

With his condition, he required the support of the controller of the Deity of Gods to be able to connect to the King’s consciousness.

At that moment, Nassaupelle sensed something amiss. “Did something happen?”

“A ripple appeared in the Realm of Mind,” Silent Disaster replied bluntly.

“Uh… you should know I’m not good at such vague and uncertain things.”

“That is why we need to contact the King. If it was not an illusion, the King will definitely know more about the ripple than me,” Silent Disaster replied.

At the top of the Birth Tower, Nassaupelle placed his palm over the central hub and gathered magic power. Every Senior Lord had a different innate skill. Valkries was well known to be able to infiltrate into the deepest layer of the Realm of Mind, or Mask that was seemingly blind and slow with the Realm of Mind, only capable of establishing a connection with the Realm of Mind with the help of the Birth Tower.

Silent Disaster waited patiently for a long while, but did not receive a reply from the other party.

“What’s going on?” He frowned. “Is it not done?”

If not for the worries in his heart, he would never have asked so many questions in succession.

Nassaupelle turned his head and replied in surprise, “There’s nothing…”

“Nothing?”

“The Presiding Holy Seat—I can’t sense the King at all.”

Silent Disaster was stunned.

The King was the backbone of the race and the Holy Seat was equivalent to a lighthouse in the boundless ocean. The disappearance of its signal meant that the demons had temporarily lost their ability to contact the Blackstone region.

Of course, it was impossible for the King to perish; otherwise, the intense ripple from his death would be enough for all demons to sense it.

The only question was, what exactly happened to cause the King to shut off the consciousness realm?

Before the Holy Seat reappeared, they would be kept in the dark.

…

Kingdom of Dawn, City of Glow Castle.

“That is the Deity of Gods…” Roland stood atop the castle and looked in the direction of the slowly-moving shadow.

Despite being mentally prepared for it, he was shaken upon laying his eyes on it for the first time.

It was not a special effect from the movies, but an object that existed in reality—a floating island capable of accommodating Neverwinter and Longsong, completely abiding by the saying ‘big is better.’ The mere sight of the island was enough to cause one’s state of mind to be affected. If the black strata had steel frames and steam pipes, it would be the ideal creation.

No wonder the upper echelons of the demons were so confident in it.

Nightingale came to him and leaned in with a cautious expression written over her face.

“Relax.” Roland spoke in resignation, “We are only observing from a distance, we won’t meet with any danger.”

“An unknown territory by itself signifies hazard.” Nightingale said sourly, “I can investigate all the strangers entering and leaving Neverwinter, but I can’t check on all the nobles in the Kingdom of Dawn. Why must you come to the front lines?”

“Because the situation has developed to a point where I am unable to stay in the safe Western Region.” Roland shook his head. The First Army’s first defeat, the Deity of Gods’ sudden route change towards the Hermes Plateau, and the panic caused from the plague in the neighboring countries—all of these consecutive bad news resolved his decision. Be it inspiring the troops or stabilizing the confidence in their allies, both required his presence. In any era or civilization, this action was the most direct and effective morale booster.

He turned his gaze to Horford Quinn, “All of your ministers should have arrived by now, right?”

“They are all waiting in the conference hall.”

“Very good, let us have a good talk… about what we should do next.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” The master of the Kingdom of Dawn placed his hand across his chest and replied calmly.