Don't confiscate my identity as a human race-Chapter 1177 - 793: Lankros’s Final Outcome_2
The three Ancestors' faces were completely rigid, as if encased in ice.
"Why is this happening..."
The Seventh Ancestor Helitier's heartbeat accelerated, her chest rising and falling erratically.
The entire star chart she saw had lost its color.
Or rather, the state of Lankros made her start to distrust the star constellations she observed.
"Helitier, why can't you see that the moment I stepped into Blood Moon City, your Blood King Palace was already starting to smoke?"
Lanci stood before them, with a smile tinged with pity, yet like a sharp blade, it pierced straight into Marquis Helitier's heart.
Behind him, the dark palace, the white chalk-stoned floor of the square was covered with the blood of the Ninth Progenitor, the ninth towering pillar flickering with dying light.
This was entirely different from the future Marquis Helitier had foreseen!
"But rest assured, I have no interest in tormenting the weak."
Lanci's voice was casual and relaxed, as if he was catching up with an old friend.
"You..."
As Talia listened to Lanci's words, just as she was about to argue, she realized what he said made sense—he only tormented the strong.
"Well, Lausang really doesn't have any objections."
Talia couldn't even begin to imagine how cruelly Lanci had dealt with Asksan.
"Pope, I think there may be some misunderstanding between us?"
Third Ancestor Duke Rashar turned his gaze to the distant Pope, his youthful voice becoming much more solemn as he asked.
He knew all too well that the Pope's posture of the strong pitying the weak was a humiliation for them.
But at this moment, he was also clear-headed—there was no need to confront such a desperate foe head-on.
"Really?"
The White Robed Pope asked the Third Ancestor Duke Rashar.
"Indeed."
Rashar earnestly confirmed.
The Pope's playful tone made Rashar's blood pressure surge, but at this moment, Rashar could only patiently endure, maintaining the act, and communicating with the Pope.
"Will you repent?"
Lanci asked again.
"Of course, I will reflect on any mistakes."
Rashar sensed there might be hope.
"Then why, thousands of years later, do you repeat the same mistakes in the Cerryti Empire?"
Lanci asked as if it was only natural.
"Thousands of years later... the Cerryti Empire?"
A flicker of bewilderment crossed the eyes of the Seventh Ancestor Marquess Helitier.
This didn't sound like a casual, joking remark, nor was it a name of a realm she had ever heard of. It was as though the Pope was a traveler from another timeline, who had already seen a future far beyond theirs.
"What exactly did you see, Lankros?"
Helitier discovered an utterly terrifying fact and questioned the Pope.
"Is this reality... or the future I have foreseen... but if I am from the past, then how could I know about a future thousands of years later..."
Lanci began to murmur to himself.
Initially, Rashar did not understand what the Pope meant.
Until he realized.
The content the Pope was muttering was perfectly synchronized with the words whispered by the Seventh Ancestor Helitier, leaving Helitier stupefied and shaking all over.
This was obviously not mind-reading.
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Because Lankros's words were coming out barely fractionally sooner than Helitier's!
"Pope, have you used the Immortal Eternal Penalty on yourself?"
Third Ancestor Duke Rashar finally comprehended the worst answer, his blood-colored pupils filled with wrath.
The Demon Race.
Again, the Demon Race!
Sure enough, it was the unknown Demon Race treasure left by that wretched Calila that allowed Lankros to divine the future!
"Don't rush; it will be used on you soon."
Lanci affirmed with certainty.
"Lankros... This is not fair, it's simply not fair!!"
The Third Ancestor finally stopped hiding the ferocious look in his eyes, his voice sharp and warped, echoing across the desolate expanse of the Blood King Palace Square.
Despite still harboring a sliver of hope deep down, not wanting to admit the possibility of defeat,
He understood that today a fight to the death with Saint Polante Pope was inevitable, his blood-red magic power soaring.
"Lankros, you despicable wretch!"
The Eighth Ancestor Marquis Somerset managed to barely pull his upper and lower body together, his fists clenched white, his body trembled slightly with both anger and fear.
"I guess you want to ambush me again."
Lanci's feet radiated circles of lightning, rippling across the stone slab until they glowed eternally, lighting up the entire Blood Moon City.
His eyes, through the sharp edge of the lightning, stared at his opponent.
The thunderous roar of the waterfall swept up everything like a ravenous storm, bathing the entire Blood Moon City in a white incandescent tempest.
Before he could even attempt to strike at the Pope, the Eighth Ancestor Somerset found himself unable to move.
"Using thunder magic, which you are not skilled in, don't underestimate us!"
Of the three Ancestors, only Rashar could barely move in this all-encompassing compound spell of light and thunder, resisting the electrification and paralysis.
His body surged with blood-red magic power, his eyes became pitch-black voids, almost like two unfathomably deep black holes.
Numerous dark red spiritual power tendrils rapidly extended from Rashar, covering the entire battlefield like a thicket of thorns.
"As long as you are still that Lankros, you cannot ignore the Spiritual Fissure that I've left!"
Rashar sneered, commanding those tendrils to strike straight at Lanci.
"Do you know, the potency of your magic attack, I can't be bothered to waste magic power to block."
As the tendrils touched Lanci, they met an invisible wall, instantly shattering into tiny bits of blood-red light that dissipated in the air.
According to Talia and his previous review, this spell did not have substantial damage; it was mainly to inflict negative status effects.
With Lankros's spell resistance, he could take it without defense.
This time he took it and indeed felt nothing.
