Bals's Counterattack

Pfft!

Like a sharp blade slicing through rotten leather, the silver-flashing longsword split apart a Crawling Hand that had lunged toward her.

But there was not the slightest hint of smugness on Alice's face, because several more Crawling Hands were reaching for her from different angles.

Even though these Crawling Hands possessed no extraordinary abilities, they were still difficult to deal with.

The hatred and resentment of the dead had clung to the Crawling Hands along with their vitality and souls. Even the slightest cut would bring an unknown package of nasty surprises.

Even with Alice's extraordinary constitution, she did not dare let these Crawling Hands injure her. Who knew what diseases or curses had stained these severed hands as they crawled through the sewers?

However, she had no choice but to endure the pressure and step forward, because only by doing so could she draw the Crawling Hands' hatred toward herself.

Although the Crawling Hands lacked ordinary human intelligence, their remaining instincts and the commands set in advance by the Heretical Cultists made them understand their current duty—kill every living thing.

She had to take advantage of the moment Tog was occupied by Lord Bals. Only then could Tog not spare any attention to command the Crawling Hands.

Otherwise, it would be difficult for her to hold back all the Crawling Hands by herself.

Even now, she still could not determine whether these Crawling Hands possessed an extraordinary tier.

If they were merely ordinary people's arms, that would be fine. But if they were the arms of extraordinary beings, the Crawling Hands could inherit part of their abilities!

Siosand had unknowingly put away his smile, coldly watching the battlefields on both sides.

His slender fingers quietly came together, only to tap restlessly against each other, as though he were waiting for something.

Aaron endured his physical discomfort and asked, "What are you waiting for?"

By now, battlefields had quietly formed on both sides. As the second-strongest fighter in the group on the surface, whichever side Siosand joined would determine what happened next.

Yet he helped neither side. He merely stood there, silently observing the situation with a cold gaze, showing no intention of making a move.

"I'm waiting for an opportunity." Siosand glanced at him and said quietly, "You need to be patient, Mr. Aaron."

If Sart had not been willing to give up competing with him for the right to inherit the Star Tower, he would never have been willing to protect this Aaron.

Yes, Sart had given up his chance to compete for the position of Star Tower heir.

Not long ago, he had reached a verbal agreement with Siosand, demanding that Siosand protect Aaron until this incident was over.

If Siosand had not been a Silver Tier prophet whose soul was almost impervious to interference from all kinds of illusions, he truly would have believed that he was experiencing an extraordinarily realistic dream.

Perhaps no one would believe it if he said so, but in Siosand's eyes, the only person capable of competing with him for the position of the next Star Tower master was his senior, Sart, who was only Bronze Tier even now.

And now, his greatest rival had actually withdrawn of his own accord?

Was it because Aaron was his opportunity to advance?

Or was it because this Aaron could touch the threshold of Bronze Tier overnight?

Senior, if you were going to give up so easily, you really have surprised me.

Do you have this much confidence in him?

Or is it because... that was the only successful divination ritual you ever performed?

As Siosand thought, he silently watched the Aaron before him.

He was a prophet, capable of sensing the fluctuations of another person's soul and emotions. For a rookie who was only Black Iron Tier, Aaron did not even know how to restrain his soul fluctuations.

Aaron was completely exposed in his eyes, clear as day. From the eyes of this Black Iron Tier extraordinary being, he could see anxiety, fear, and even doubt...

All kinds of negative energy were quietly piling up, silently waiting for the moment they could see the light of day again.

However, he could distinctly sense that Aaron still possessed other emotions at this moment.

Curiosity? Thoughtfulness?

Though tiny, they firmly occupied a corner of his mind, taking deep root in the depths of his soul.

Hah. Those were the traits and obsessions an extraordinary being needed least.

Ignorance itself was a virtue.

Before the boundless sea of knowledge, only a lowered, yearning gaze could keep one's eyes from being dazzled by the stars filling the sky.

Boom!

A loud explosion interrupted Siosand's thoughts and brought him back to his senses.

While his thoughts had been racing for those few moments, a new change had occurred on the battlefield.

"Bals! Are you serious?" Tog's tone shifted from smugness to uncertainty, then turned furious. "I already gave you the deposit! You were supposed to bring the sacrifice to meet me. That was our agreement!"

Because of his angry shout, his hoarse voice uncontrollably rose into a shrill pitch. The sound alone stabbed at their eardrums like steel needles.

"Get out of here!" Bals roared again. The Steel Prosthetic underwent another transformation. In a light bright enough to illuminate the entire sewer, the prosthetic melted.

A crimson metal flow erupted like a volcanic explosion. In only a few seconds, the surrounding temperature had quietly risen several degrees.

Amid the wave of heat, the surging metal liquid roared and churned, swallowing Tog and the black mist in one gulp.

The high temperature and dry heat instantly cracked the hard stone bricks around them, while the stagnant water that had lain dead for who knew how many years began to boil.

Dark green stench spread alongside the steaming vapor. Filth that had been buried and fermenting for years finally saw the light of day.

Water vapor filled the air. For a moment, the section of sewer began to distort, and the entire world blurred.

The torchlight was blocked by the heavy mist, making it impossible to see very far.

Though they were only a dozen steps apart, Bals's tall, imposing figure had already been concealed. Only a huge black shadow was cast beneath the bright, scorching metal cage.

This was the true strength of a Gold Tier powerhouse. Even restricted by the terrain and concerned about accidentally injuring others, Bals still had not unleashed his full power.

Otherwise, the entire stretch of sewer would have wailed beneath the terrifyingly hot flood of metal.

He merely played with metal. The iron arm was only one manifestation of his ability.

"Go!" Bals's voice had turned hoarse from the intense heat. He repeated himself tirelessly, his tone urgent.

"I understand now, Bals. You never intended to fulfill the contract!" Tog's hysterical voice came from within the heat flow. "You only agreed to bring me an extraordinary being. So that's how it is!"

Only now did Tog realize that Bals had indeed honored the contract by bringing an extraordinary being. But the contract had never said what would happen after he brought one!

From the moment the contract was signed, that damned Bals had never intended to help him kill the extraordinary being!

"Do you think this will be useful, Bals?"

Unexpectedly, Tog's voice no longer came from within the scorching metal cage. Instead, it drifted through the sewer, while an ominous aura spread through the air.

"Bals, do you really think I'm this weak? Didn't you notice that these Crawling Hands are merely defective products?"