The dense black mist arrived in an instant, but the silver-white barrier kept everything outside. From time to time, palms left futile, shrill scratching sounds against it.
It had all happened too quickly—too quickly for Aaron to be prepared.
He had not even had time to figure out why Sart had willingly made such a sacrifice.
Aaron could only watch helplessly as Sart was swallowed by the black mist and shout, "Sart!"
There was no reply from within the mist.
"Is there anything we can do?" Aaron muttered under his breath.
Before this, he had merely wanted to cling to someone powerful, even planning to attach himself to a rich woman like Alice and live a happy, carefree life. But now, he realized how laughable his thoughts had been.
This was a high-magic plane. Power was the eternal theme.
Without power, every plan was nothing more than a beautiful dream existing only in his mind.
Before this, he had been able to accept Sart's help with a clear conscience. He had even considered how to make use of him, and how to borrow the identity of this second-generation tower heir to advance rapidly.
Because he knew that the relationship between Sart and him was merely a transaction.
All of Sart's help was an investment, intended to help him grow faster. In return, Aaron would help Sart during some future event—for example, helping him advance to the Silver Tier.
Once it was over, they would owe each other nothing. That was all.
However, once Sart had staked his own life, the nature of things had changed. It was no longer an investment or a transaction.
Aaron glanced at the darkness and silently calculated the cards he had left.
There was only one that seemed utterly childish: Dream Speech: Twisted Language.
Would it work on Tog?
He did not know, nor did he want to know.
Some things could not be examined too closely. Once he did, he would lose all his courage in the face of the endless consequences.
He could only act, not think.
At that moment, a melodious song drifted over from somewhere, ethereal and elusive.
Like Moses parting the sea, the black mist was restrained by a mysterious force and split in two.
A slender, illusory arm reached out from the black mist. Then Siosand and Alice emerged from within it.
He glanced at Aaron and the barrier. Though he did not know exactly what had happened, he understood that his senior was in danger. He coldly tossed out one sentence: "Cover your ears."
Aaron stared blankly at Dream Princess, who had poked her head out from Siosand's shoulder. Before he could react, he heard Siosand say softly to the figure on his shoulder, "Banshee's Howl."
He saw the lines on Dream Princess's face writhing and sketching out an exquisitely beautiful visage. Then the lines symbolizing her lips soundlessly opened.
Aaron heard only an extremely monotonous buzzing beside his ears. It was meaningless, yet it forcibly drove every other sound from them.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to fall silent.
There were no more faint wails, screams, or sinister laughter; no sound of his own heartbeat or breathing; not even the scratching of the Crawling Hands attacking the barrier.
There was only that buzzing.
However, Aaron knew it was an illusion.
The invisible sound waves crashed against the black mist surging forward like a tide. Countless arms reached out from the mist, only to be severed at the roots in an instant before turning back into shifting black mist.
The sound waves seemed to conceal countless invisible blades. In the blink of an eye, the black mist surged forward like a tide and then retreated like one, leaving countless crisscrossing cuts of varying sizes across its surface.
When the tide receded, it revealed a dimly glowing reef: Sart.
He stood within the spell's fading radiance, his expression complicated as he looked toward Siosand.
He had not activated the protective spell because he feared death. He had done so simply to buy Aaron a little more time.
The longer he lived, the longer Aaron would live.
Siosand had clearly shown extreme unwillingness and fury before Alice, yet now he only sneered. "Senior Sart, if you want to die, please explain it to the teacher first, so she won't blame me for it."
"Then you can all die together." Tog's wild shout came from within the black mist, carrying even a hint of hysteria.
The time of the sacrifice was drawing closer and closer. His arm had faintly begun to disobey his commands, and he could even feel a cold, sinister presence staring at him.
There was not much time left!
"I will sacrifice my left hand in exchange for my Lord's favor!"
The sound of flesh tearing rang out, accompanied by a scream. The agony made Tog's speech somewhat slurred, but he still gritted his teeth and finished reciting the sacrificial incantation.
One or two Crawling Hands that had luckily survived Banshee's Howl suddenly burst apart from the inside out. Wisps of black mist emerged from the shattered remains, then merged with the black mist drifting nearby and poured entirely into the blood-soaked left hand.
In the blink of an eye, the severed hand was stained with the blue-black color symbolizing death. Its fingers then began to twitch unnaturally.
Under Aaron's astonished gaze, it came alive and nimbly flipped over.
"Die, all of you!" Tog covered his wound and let out a cackling laugh.
Siosand's expression darkened. He pulled Sart behind him with the back of his hand. "Fall back."
"This is a little troublesome..." Dream Princess no longer giggled, and her tone carried a hint of solemnity. "This is a Blood Sacrifice..."
"I know it's a Blood Sacrifice." Siosand cut her off directly. "Is there anything we can do?"
Before Dream Princess could answer, several withered arms suddenly emerged from the shadows beneath their feet.
Unlike the arms that had reached out from the black mist earlier, these arms were still made of darkness, but they were lifelike. One could even faintly see the veins raised across their surfaces.
Nor were they as fragile as the previous arms. At the very least, Aaron could actually see sparks flying as they scratched against the barrier.
Alice held her shield in front of Sart, but in the next moment, several arms struck her. Amid the clanging of metal, she nearly lost her grip on the shield and was almost sent flying backward.
For someone with only Bronze Tier strength, participating in a Silver Tier battle was truly asking too much of her.
Nevertheless, she silently swallowed the bloody taste rising in her throat, swung her dimly glowing longsword, and continued to protect Sart with difficulty.
Just as she had said, "The House of Iris never retreats."
However, all of that was merely the aftershock. From the shadow beneath Siosand's feet, a palm the size of a carriage suddenly reached out.
The palm moved incredibly fast, giving Siosand no chance to react before it seized him tightly.
Dream Princess let out a scream, seemingly suffering some kind of severe injury. After that, there was no further sound.
"Siosand!"
Tog stared venomously at Siosand, then glanced at Aaron and Sart as well. He split open his huge mouth and finally sneered viciously. "You! All of you! Why can't you just wait obediently for death? Why resist? Regret it? Too late! I'll sacrifice every one of you to my Lord!"
The time for the sacrifice was imminent. Tog could clearly feel a stabbing pain in his arm, while a needle-like numbness spread throughout his body.
The blood dripping from his mutilated arm writhed and gathered together. It restlessly changed shape on the ground before gradually forming a bloody palm print.
The lines of the palm were clearly visible, as if an invisible great hand had dipped itself in blood and left its mark.
Yet in Aaron's eyes, the lines of the palm print twisted, shifted, and leaped, as if they would break free from the ground's restraints in the next moment.
Tog stared at the palm print and began loudly reciting the prayer. "Praise my Lord. Please awaken and enjoy the feast your faithful believer has prepared for you. May my Lord..."
The time was almost here. His Lord was about to arrive. He had to recite the prayer faster.
However, just as he was about to finish the prayer, an inexplicable feeling welled up inside him.
Tog opened and closed his mouth, his mind going completely blank. He had actually forgotten the final half of the prayer.
He did not know what had happened, but the pain in his arm reminded him, his sharp instincts frightened him, and his survival instinct urged him on.
Thus, without time to think, he stammered, "May my Lord... have a hearty appetite."
Before you continue