Chapter 1058
Louis de Orléans
Sherlock was like the God of Thunder.
He held a long staff, and lightning instantaneously filled the entire long corridor. Even at an extreme distance where his spells could not possibly hit, they spread instantly due to the chain mechanism of Chain Lightning.
—All of this was due to the Spell Anchor effect provided by Arsen!
Even when completely exposed outside of sight, even without being locked onto by perception or vision, it guaranteed a 100% hit on the enemy!
“Spell Anchor” was such an unreasonable “guaranteed hit” buff.
On principle, it couldn’t guarantee that spells would definitely hit. It merely allowed spells to act as if they had a life of their own, automatically seeking targets. When using a Fireball spell under the Spell Anchor state, the Fireball would have a weak homing effect and curve towards the enemy like a missile—but even so, it could be evaded through preemptive detonation or high-speed maneuvers, as it did not increase projectile speed.
However, lightning spells were different.
Once locked on, it was a guaranteed hit!
Even Extraordinary individuals at the Fifth Tier or Sixth Tier could never evade lightning!
It was less like a chain and more like a whip. Lightning gathered unceasingly from Sherlock’s staff, arcs of electricity crackling, leaping across everyone. Every time someone fell, the arcs immediately jumped to the next person.
Sherlock actually had no idea about the effect of “Spell Anchor,” a unique spell of the Path of Beauty’s Fourth Tier—even Arsen himself didn’t know.
But he deduced its effect solely through his own wisdom and instantly thought of the most appropriate way to use it!
—This first Chain Lightning almost cleared the area.
Nearly half of those Blood Slaves were mortals, and some possessed the Energy Level of the Path of Love or the Path of Devotion. However, none of them had reached the Fourth Tier, and they were instantly destroyed before Sherlock’s spell.
As for those “Blood Special” Children of the Moon, they couldn’t be killed instantly by lightning… the lightning would gather on them, leaping repeatedly.
Tearing through their flesh and blood like a drill, emitting a scorched smell.
On those scorched corpses and ashen statues, electric light still leaped.
If it were Sherlock’s personality from a few years ago, he would absolutely not have killed anyone. Regardless of whether the opponent was good or evil, even if he habitually left them an escape route. On the contrary, Edward was ruthless; when he read minds and souls, destroying others’ thoughts and souls, he never showed the slightest mercy.
Because in Avalon, murder was a grave offense—even a minister could be prosecuted and imprisoned for “murder,” regardless of the victim’s identity or the perpetrator’s crime, it had to be judged by the Court of Justice or the Arbitration.
Setting aside whether this was due to failed political struggles, at least it could be announced as a “reason,” proving Avalon’s emphasis on law.
At least in Star Antinomy and Iris Flower, such matters were unimportant. No one would be surprised that “a noble Lord actually killed someone”; rather, it would be surprising if someone emerged claiming they had never taken a life.
And Sherlock was less about following rules and more about avoiding trouble.
But on one hand, he was cautious, leaving no weaknesses that could be exploited; on the other hand, he was always reckless when investigating, completely unafraid of danger.
This was undoubtedly contradictory. It was precisely because of this contradiction that Sherlock was in a constant state of internal conflict.
But now, Sherlock had grown.
—With Isabel’s enthronement and Eivass’s appointment as Pope, he gradually became less cautious.
Instead, he followed his inner impulses—
He had long wanted to deal with these Children of the Moon.
These Blood Slaves—could not be considered human at all.
Once branded by the Vampire’s Mesmerizing Kiss, it was almost impossible to break free from its control through one’s own will. They could not harbor any negative or harmful thoughts towards their Master… and if they did not feed for a long time, they would experience unbearable loneliness and emptiness; once fed, they would feel intense satisfaction.
With repeated feeding, their control deepened. For them, blood-feeding was no longer a punishment or exploitation, but a reward—they would do anything without hesitation just to be fed. Even if the Mesmerizing Kiss itself could be dispelled as a curse, their corrupted hearts had fallen beyond salvation.
Punishing the wicked was also for justice!
However…
Suddenly, Sherlock paused, and the staff that had been continuously discharging stopped its humming sound.
He realized something else.
Even though the Blood Slaves were heinous and the Children of the Moon were not human… there should be innocent people captured in this room. Beyond his line of sight, Chain Lightning would also capture them.
“Do not worry,” Eivass’s voice echoed from the white mist, “If you are worried about the innocent…
“I will save them. Trust my Healing Ability… If there is anyone you want to save, I can bring them back to life even if they are dead.”
The moment the crackling sound of lightning stopped, Eivass had guessed Sherlock’s thoughts.
As he spoke, he continued to stride forward.
As a healer, he walked at the forefront among the three. Standing at the tip of the conical formation.
“Do not mind such things,” Eivass’s voice was calm and gentle, yet filled with a sense of reliability, “Two, fire at will.
“I will bear all responsibility, I will heal all wounds…”
—In the name of the Ancestors.”
A steady voice suddenly rang out, interrupting Eivass: “Let this place be a pure sanctuary.”
As a gust of wind carrying a bloody scent suddenly blew past.
Sherlock immediately grabbed Eivass, stopping him. Arsen, however, was the first of the three to react—he closed his mouth and cautiously placed his hand on the short sword at his waist.
The white mist gradually thinned and dissipated.
The Divine Art of Scene was canceled, and buffs and defenses were also dispelled. Even the azure rune light band around Sherlock’s neck faded and vanished—that was the effect of the ‘Fool’s Canticle’ being activated.
Before the three of them appeared a middle-aged man dressed in a magnificent black and red formal gown.
It was attire very similar to the old aristocratic style of the Hrasal Empire. Like the outfit Beyad wore when he impersonated Alistair.
His face was thin, his black curly hair neatly styled. His back was straight, his left hand behind his back, and his right hand held a staff. The exquisite goatee gave him an air of elegant maturity.
The middle-aged man stood amidst bright candlelight, looking alone at the three in the dark corridor.
Behind him were clean and bright tables, chairs, and candlesticks, while around Eivass and the other two were only gray statues and scorched corpses.
The middle-aged man looked at the three, frowning slightly. His crimson pupils held no emotion.
Neither angry nor fearful. Like a director scrutinizing an actor, he judged their actions with the sharpest gaze.
Eivass said slowly, “Louis de Orléans… Count Orléans, correct.”
“I am.”
Louis shifted his gaze from Arsen to Eivass, narrowing his eyes slightly.
He remained silent for a moment before calmly saying, “I do not know you, an unfamiliar kinsman.
“Who is your ‘father’?”
(End of Chapter)
