Chapter 40: The Bard of “Sloth”
Miss Verafia gently held Mistetinn’s Staff, the Tree of Life burning with golden flames. Suddenly, sword shadows shot out, and the elegant sword light stretched for tens of thousands of miles.
The magnificent sword edge, like a real blade, condensed into a brilliant emerald gold body. The rich aura of life ignited fiery flames, and the brilliant sword light struck Dylan, who was forced to reveal himself in the dark abyss.
What had appeared in Miss Verafia’s gaze before was merely an illusion projected by Dylan in this domain. It was his true form that was forced to appear this time.
However, Miss Verafia’s tender fingers gripping the staff couldn’t help but tighten slightly.
“Such brilliant sword light, is this precisely your ‘Moment of the End’? It’s like a sword that carves the world open before my eyes. Even the will of the abyss seems to wither… Miss Verafia, no wonder Saintess regards you so highly.”
Dylan’s gentle voice came from afar. The brilliant sword shadow struck him, and the magnificent bard’s robe was cut open with a slit. The sharpness of the blade hit his flesh and blood, and dirty black blood continuously flowed out.
However, this strand of sword light did not completely cut through. Endless darkness solidified beneath the sword’s edge, and the sword shadow seemed to freeze, caught by Dylan’s fingers. Suddenly, the bard’s fingertips moved, cracks spread between the blades, and with a crisp sound, it shattered into countless particles of scorching gold and emerald light, which were then devoured by the gloomy abyss.
“Princess, it’s a pity I couldn’t witness your sword technique at its full strength. Such a scene, even the most grand poetic verses would struggle to describe, wouldn’t they?”
Witnessing the small hand still gripping the staff from afar, the bard shook his head with regret.
The eyelashes above his golden eyes trembled slightly, and a trace of pain spread across her tender palm. Verafia bit her lips gently, tightening her small hand on the handle of the staff. Mistetinn’s Staff steadily flowed with a warm life aura.
The bard didn’t make many moves, but Verafia sensed that the power gap between them was almost completely crushing.
After all, she had only just been born, and was not even familiar with her demonic power. The fact that she could unleash “Moment of the End” was largely thanks to Mistetinn’s Staff in her hand… Of course, she was far from being able to contend with Dylan, one of the incarnations of Original Sin.
“Heh, speaking of which, that stubborn Lord Hordea is solely focused on your attendant. Instead, for someone like me, I can still appreciate your graceful figure, Princess…”
The bard seemed to be walking over, accompanied by a soft laugh.
“Dylan, you guy… what exactly do you want to do?”
Verafia exclaimed in surprise. She lowered her head, her gaze falling upon her underdeveloped chest and her short, tender hands and legs.
She wasn’t even considered a loli yet, how could anyone be interested in such a young girl’s body!
Wait, what Original Sin did this guy represent again?
The incarnations of “Original Sin” from the Abyssal Church, although they might have been transformed from humans, were not truly considered living beings. The original sins they bore often distorted their personalities… As for Dylan, he seemed to be the incarnation of the sin of “Sloth”?
“Miss Verafia, you truly are…”
Dylan shook his head helplessly and said, “For someone as flawless as you, I only need to sit here and admire you, and there’s no need to fight your attendant like Hordea. Isn’t this something to be grateful for?”
“Just admiring this young lady?”
Verafia breathed a sigh of relief. Well, as expected of the incarnation of sloth… He wasn’t like that Jealous Witch who immediately started mocking her with a disgusting tone and fighting her to the death.
However, she should probably consider herself fortunate that the ones appearing before her were not “Lust” or “Greed”?
But Verafia’s small hands did not loosen their grip on the staff. As Dylan said, perhaps he wouldn’t necessarily try to kill her, but he definitely wouldn’t let her leave easily.
Her pupils shifted slightly, and Verafia raised her small face, shouting, “Dylan, you just said that Hordea deliberately found Iggett, what does he want to do?”
Dylan was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t expected this little princess, who had just swung a sword at him, to push her luck so much and directly start asking him questions.
“Heh, such a question, since Lord Hordea chose it himself, I naturally cannot tell you… However, Princess, you don’t need to worry too much about your attendant. Lord Hordea doesn’t seem to have any intention of killing him.”
The bard shook his head, then suddenly chuckled at Miss Verafia. “However, Miss Verafia, actually, I don’t need to say it. In your heart, you already have the answer, don’t you?”
Verafia’s slender eyelashes blinked lightly in her golden eyes.
At least, from what she knew, the only connection between Hordea, a swordsman who had fallen into the abyss, and Iggett was the abyssal brand left behind several years ago.
What Hordea wanted…
Although Dylan’s words confirmed that Iggett would likely not encounter too much danger, the mention of the word “abyss” made Verafia’s heart anxious. Her slender fingers tightened their grip on the staff.
Dylan stood in the distance, his long fingers once again playing the harp in his embrace.
“Of course, if Princess can defeat me, then I have no reason to stop you any further,” the bard suddenly looked up at the small girl in the distance with clear eyes.
“You mean—”
“After all, rather than simply appreciating, I prefer to see a more brilliant and captivating you…”
Verafia instinctively raised the staff in her hand, her voice hoarse, and a beast-like roar echoed throughout the submerged space of the abyss.
The magical rune barrier shattered with a crisp sound. Bethel, who appeared, had lost all previous restraint. His eyes were blood-red, and the unbearable hatred seemed to have solidified, like a hideous beast, half-crouching and pouncing!
“Boom!”
Verafia swung her staff, and a forbidden flame magic bombarded Bethel. Its terrifying power was enough to wound a Star, and it directly annihilated more than half of Bethel’s body.
The burning flames scorched his handsome face, and charcoal ash fell, revealing bare bones. His mangled body exposed charred organs, which were horrifying to behold.
However, Bethel, who was completely like a beast, seemed to have no awareness of this. His eyes revealed ferocity and heat. With one hand gripping the sword blade, swirling with tainted demonic energy, he swung his sword down at Verafia, who was less than half his height!
“Miss Verafia, the hatred this noble elf harbors is so great that even I am astonished. Now, he will vent it upon you… Please do not get injured, otherwise, even the most beautiful treasure will be incomplete.”
The tune of the harp sounded, and the bard’s plain, shallow laughter came from afar.
