Thalion grabbed the unconscious woman and carried her into the tower. Her arms were still missing, but the bleeding had stopped—though only temporarily, as far as he was concerned. It was time to finally get some answers about what was going on. He knew time was against him; the skyships were drawing closer with every passing minute.

Still, Thalion doubted any of the attackers had advanced far enough in E-grade to pose a genuine threat. His mastery of both the sword and blood arts had reached a level that made him nearly invincible in single combat—unless, of course, he made a serious mistake. Confident in his abilities, he focused on the task at hand.

Upon entering his underground lab, he shoved the woman into a black pillar positioned at the room’s center. The pillar, faintly glowing, contained only a few wind crystals—not yet fully charged. It didn’t take long for the woman to awaken, though she was still groggy, her eyelids fluttering as if she were trying to wrestle her mind back to consciousness.

For Thalion, her fate was clear. She would stay in this place until she died. There was no chance he’d let her escape or alert anyone about what he was doing here. Until then, her existence would be defined by fear and pain.

The woman stirred but struggled to see anything, her head lolling weakly. Thalion decided to hasten her recovery. Without a moment’s hesitation, he transformed into his eagle form, green feathers rippling like a living storm. He released a weak lightning beam that struck the pillar.

The results exceeded his expectations. The woman’s face—the only part of her body visible outside the black pillar—twisted in agony as she screamed. The electricity coursed through her with violent intensity, sparking wildly along the surface of the pillar.

As Thalion watched her writhe, a thought struck him. The pillar’s glow had grown faint over time; perhaps it was time to “recharge” it with fresh sacrifices. The rioters outside would do nicely.

Satisfied that she was now fully awake, he fired another weak lightning beam into the pillar. Sparks danced across its surface, crackling like tiny explosions. The energy didn’t dissipate immediately, instead lingering, shocking the woman for nearly a full minute after the last strike.

Her screams filled the chamber, echoing off the walls like a twisted symphony. Thalion allowed himself a faint smirk as he observed her twitching. This was going even better than he had anticipated.

“Now,” he said, his voice cold and commanding, “who are you, and which god has blessed you?”

The woman’s eyes were wide with terror, but her lips curled into a snarl. “I’ll never tell you anything!” she spat. “When my husband arrives, you’ll pay for this resistance! My pain will be nothing compared to what he’ll do to you!”

Thalion raised an eyebrow. Her defiance, while admirable, was misplaced. She must have had some skill or blessing to resist the mental effects of the pillar, though it was no longer as potent as when he had first acquired it. Still, it served as an excellent conductor for lightning.

Without a word, Thalion blasted her again. Lightning crackled as her screams filled the air, interspersed with desperate pleas. Her bravado crumbled quickly, but Thalion didn’t stop.

He wasn’t interested in her limits—not yet. The woman had already mentioned her husband, a crucial slip, and her earlier threats had given him all the justification he needed to continue.

He used the time to refine his control, practicing weaker lightning beams. Precision was key, and the pillar allowed him to observe the effects in real-time. Minutes passed, the woman’s screams growing hoarse, her face twitching involuntarily even when the shocks subsided.

After nearly ten minutes, Thalion finally relented. Sparks still danced along the surface of the pillar, and the woman twitched as residual lightning coursed through her body. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, filled with raw fear.

“Please stop!” she finally screamed, her voice cracking. “My patron is the magnificent Ferastomos, a god of war! With his blade, he has struck down countless souls!”

Thalion narrowed his eyes. “I assume he’s not one of the undead gods?” he asked coldly.

The woman nodded quickly, eager to avoid another round of torture.

“Good,” Thalion said. “Now, let’s get to the point. What was your plan, and what is your husband planning with his skyships?” His tone was sharp, every word carrying the unspoken threat of another jolt of lightning—or worse.

The woman swallowed hard, clearly weighing her options. But something about Thalion’s presence—the mix of authority and merciless intent—seemed to break her. She began speaking quickly, desperation dripping from every syllable.

“My husband is a strong fighter, level 85,” she said, almost pleading. “His plan is to conquer this base, of course! If my takeover failed, it was meant to buy him enough time to challenge your strongest fighter to single combat. The winner would claim control of this base!”

Thalion observed her carefully as she spoke. He could feel through his title that her words were the truth. He nodded slowly, already contemplating his next move.

Without him, their plan might have even succeeded. The woman could have stalled for time, disrupting the defenders just enough for the rest of the assault to work out in their favor. But things wouldn’t go so smoothly now. Thalion would make sure of that.

Still, he pondered his options. What would stop him from simply accepting the duel offer and killing the man outright? The question wasn’t about the fight itself—he was confident in his victory.

It was about what to do with the others. They were likely loyal to their leader, perhaps even fanatically so, and many of them were undoubtedly blessed. Revenge would come eventually if left unchecked.

Leaving the leader alive wasn’t an option. Thalion weighed his choices. Perhaps killing the lot of them outright would solve the problem, or sending them back to their city broken and defeated might suffice. Either way, he’d decide soon enough.

“Now,” Thalion began, his tone cold and unrelenting, “what class, equipment, and skills does your husband have?” His gaze bore into the woman, whose body trembled against the black pillar. The device was clearly doing its work, her defiance crumbling under its relentless pressure.

“I… I don’t know everything,” the woman stammered, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. “I left weeks ago to travel here. He fights with a spear and is fast—so fast. His skills… they’re all about making him a better fighter.” Her words were a cascade of desperation, her voice breaking as fear overtook her.

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This was excellent news. Thalion felt no pity for her condition. Her choices had led her here, and if she’d succeeded, he would be dead already. She had no right to mercy.

More importantly, her words confirmed his suspicion: this had never been a simple alliance. The so-called “peaceful coalition” was just the first step in their plan to seize the base outright.

“One last question,” Thalion pressed, his voice a razor’s edge. “Are there other blessed plotting to take over this city?” He watched her carefully, knowing she might seize the chance to throw an enemy under the bus. His title gave him the ability to detect lies, a boon that made interrogation as simple as sorting truth from deception.

“There are so many!” she cried, her voice cracking as she rushed to explain. “The biggest threat is the followers of Lyranea, the Velvet Whisper. They have powerful mental abilities, and once they’ve ensnared someone, it’s almost impossible to break free. They control bars, restaurants, and other establishments—places where people gather and let their guard down. They’ve even infiltrated the guards. At least one or two council members are under their spell.”

She paused, her eyes darting as if afraid her words alone might summon Lyranea’s wrath. “No one knows how deep their network runs,” she continued, trembling, “but they’re dangerous. Then there are the blessed of Drakthar, the Iron Tyrant. His followers are armored berserkers—relentless in battle. They started recruiting more aggressively when we began our riot. Their numbers are growing.”

She kept talking, naming faction after faction, each one tied to some god or another. By the end, she had listed over twenty small groups, all vying for influence and power.

Thalion’s mind raced. The situation had spiraled out of control far beyond what he had anticipated. Most of the factions were too small to act independently, but that wouldn’t remain the case for long. Left unchecked, they would eventually consolidate their power, becoming a force that could rival his own.

The frustration boiled in his chest. This was infuriating—another distraction he didn’t need. He decided to take out some of that frustration on the woman. Sparks crackled as he fired another round of lightning into the pillar.

Her screams filled the room, blending with the sharp hum of the electricity. She twitched violently as the pillar absorbed the energy, amplifying it before sending it coursing through her body.

She wouldn’t last much longer. That much was clear. But that was fine—Thalion had no use for her alive. He continued his assault, watching dispassionately as her life ebbed away. When her screams finally ceased, her body limp and lifeless, he drained her blood, careful to collect every drop.

He sealed her corpse in his spatial ring. The sight of her remains might rattle her husband enough to throw him off his game, giving Thalion the edge he needed in their inevitable confrontation.

With that task done, he left the lab and flew to Eaglie’s cultivation chamber. The space hummed with energy, the perfect place to focus on improving his wind affinity while he waited for the enemy skyships to arrive. There was little else to do for the moment, and honing his abilities was always time well spent.

As he meditated, channeling the currents of air around him, his thoughts turned to the larger problem: the growing number of blessed within his base. The system shop was close, and he made a mental list of what he needed.

First, a way to transform the termites’ mist skill into something aligned with darkness. That would give him an edge in cultivating further. Next, reinforcements for the base’s defenses. More vines, additional ballistae designed to take down flying enemies, and perhaps something to fortify the walls.

But none of that would matter if the base imploded from within. The factions were a powder keg, ready to explode. If something didn’t change, it wouldn’t be long before civil war broke out.

Thalion needed a solution, one that didn’t involve slaughtering half the population. He thought about the followers of Lyranea, their influence over the city.

Perhaps they were the key. If he could strike a deal with them, allowing them to control the other blessed, it might stabilize the situation—at least temporarily.

Of course, there were risks. Allowing them to maintain their stranglehold over innocent civilians was distasteful, but it might buy him time to consolidate his power. With any luck, freeing those under their spell would weaken Lyranea’s hold in the long term.

For now, it was the best option. Thalion sighed, the wind around him swirling in response to his frustration. He’d deal with the coming skyships first. Then, he would address the chaos within his walls.

Thalion knew those women were ambitious—too ambitious to simply step aside. They wouldn’t accept defeat quietly. No, they would plot in the shadows, scheming and maneuvering against him, but he felt confident in his ability to handle them.

The key was to weaken their influence. If the truth about their abilities and the horrors they had inflicted on ordinary people were to spread, their charm over others would surely falter.

That was the plan for now, at least. If it failed, there was always the option of killing them outright. For the moment, Thalion considered a more surgical approach: stripping them of their power through exposure and giving them a new enemy to focus on.

While the blessed squabbled over dominance, he could remain below, advancing his body-tempering and preparing for the battles to come.

His thoughts wandered briefly. Killing the woman had yielded more experience than he anticipated—nearly four times what he would normally gain from a kill. It intrigued him. Could it be tied to her blessing? If so, the idea of eliminating other god-blessed individuals became far more appealing. This could even be his ticket to E-grade.

If he could manipulate the women of Lyranea to bring him the brainwashed rebels, it would be perfect. Another resource to exploit within his growing base. And if the woman’s husband gave as much experience as she had, Thalion estimated he’d reach level 53 from that fight alone. For the first time in a while, a glimmer of light pierced the horizon of his thoughts.

Still, there was more work to do. Thalion refocused on his body-tempering. It wouldn’t be long until he could fuse the storm crystal with Eagly. The system still seemed to be guiding him, likely offering better evolution paths inside the tutorial.

Evolving during the tutorial was another key goal—one that could reward him with a higher-class rarity or race upon transformation. He wouldn’t waste that opportunity.

Unfortunately, no one knew how long the tutorial would last. Some blessed theorized that a countdown would eventually signal the final stage, but it hadn’t started yet. The only countdown they had now was tied to the special quest, and that was approaching too quickly for comfort.

The fourth stage might need to be skipped entirely, he realized grimly. The fifth stage would likely be the most pivotal, but before that, they still had to locate the catacombs. If they failed to destroy the pillars in time, they’d be doomed.

Something about the countdown unnerved him. It seemed to adjust itself, speeding up one day and slowing down the next. It reminded him of an old video game download timer, erratically shifting and giving no clear answer on when it would finish.

For now, the changes balanced out, but the unpredictability gnawed at him. If the countdown sped up for two consecutive days, it would signal a worsening situation—but until then, all he could do was prepare.

The time for war was drawing nearer, and he had to complete his body-tempering before it arrived. A successful evolution at the end of the tutorial would be crucial. If everything went as planned, he would complete his tempering here, gain the necessary levels during the war by killing vampires and undead, and reach level 80 before the end of the tutorial.

Of course, plans rarely unfolded so perfectly. Still, there was potential. And if Plan A failed, he had contingency plans—though none as comprehensive. If all else failed, he could always flee to the ocean or the jungle and hide until the tutorial ended.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than total failure. For now, he pushed those thoughts aside. There was no point dwelling on the worst-case scenario unless it became unavoidable.

Kaldrek’s voice echoed in his mind, informing him that the skyships were only half an hour away. It was time. Thalion left the tower, shifting into mistform and soaring upward to meet the incoming vessels. The air crackled with tension as scout ships began returning, ready to provide support if a fight broke out.

He materialized, standing firm as he gazed at the approaching fleet. His eyes burned with determination, his expression grim but resolute. This was it—the duel awaited, and Thalion was ready. That fool wouldn’t know what hit him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep