Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Holy War, as the name suggests, is a war of the Holy.
Garen looked at Kiran with a deep sense of confusion, slowly lowering his Greatsword.
"Before truly explaining this term, you must first understand that this continent called Godeas is the oldest plane in all of time and space, with a historical arc capable of encompassing forty-two Valoran Continents. Here, it is also known as the Source."
"Source?" Garen asked, bewildered.
"Yes, Source. Because it is the first plane in time and space, where the first human was born, the first rain fell, the first war erupted, and the first light shone... In short, any unsolvable dilemma can find its answer here, and all secrets hidden in time and space can reveal their truths."
At this point, Kiran sighed quietly.
Garen's expression gradually grew serious; it was evident that what would follow would be the crux of Kiran's message.
Kiran's voice seemed to carry an ancient weight.
"In simple terms, the birth of the Godeyas Continent affects all of time and space."
"If something goes wrong on this continent, the entire world of time and space will fall into a fracture—essentially, destruction. As I mentioned earlier, all Source originates from this plane, including Calamity."
"Calamity?" Garen narrowed his eyes, sensing something ominous.
Kiran nodded heavily. "Yes, this plane—or rather, all of time and space—is about to face an unprecedented disaster."
Garen confirmed his inner suspicions but showed no expression. He asked calmly, "So, is this why I have come here?"
"If what I saw in time is correct, then this disaster is likely not a sudden occurrence but has been hidden deep within time for countless years. This is the most troublesome part because it means we have no way to seek out the disaster."
From Garen's eyes, Kiran noticed a flicker of flame and emphasized the severity of the situation once more.
"But fortunately, I have still found a glimmer of hope. Yes, the ancient Rune Power just happens to be able to counter the disaster itself, which gives the Valoran Continent an undeniable and significant mission. Thus, there is a compelling reason to construct the Watchtower. Sir Garen, you..."
Suddenly, Kiran's voice was interrupted.
"As you said, this disaster is extremely dangerous."
Garen's eyes flickered with flame as he spoke in a deep voice, "Then, as the first Harbinger, does that mean I am very likely to pay with my life for this?"
Kiran did not answer immediately; he lowered his head and sighed.
Even though he had tried his best to conceal this fact, it was undeniable that since Valoran's Rune Power could counter the disaster, Garen's life as the first fallen Rune Warrior, who had lost all his powers, could not be guaranteed.
Indeed, in the face of this disaster, even Valoran's bravest warrior... was he also retreating?
Suddenly, Kiran froze.
Garen slowly knelt on one knee, resting his left hand on his great sword while placing his right hand over his chest.
In a low and resonant voice, he declared, "Demacian Might, Garen... is willing to serve you!"
In the eyes of this dark-haired warrior, two flames still flickered wildly, showing no signs of extinguishing; instead, they burned even more fiercely!
Kiran was stunned for a good ten seconds before finally reacting.
This was not anger.
It was fighting spirit!
To uphold justice and redeem the world in the name of Holy War... nothing could be more exhilarating than this!
Kiran smiled and corrected, "It's not for me, but for this world!"
As Garen lifted his head, the projection of the Time Guardian Kiran was gradually fading away.
That increasingly blurred face smiled and said, "In the days to come, the Holy War System will provide you with assistance. I hope you can build the Watchtower soon, and I wish you a swift recovery of your powers and the awakening of the Greatsword in your hand... brave warrior!"
Garen slowly stood up, placing the Stormblade on his back.
At that moment, a cold voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
"Only warriors with a sense of justice are qualified to possess power! Congratulations, host, you have acquired the skill 'Fatal Strike'!"
"Fatal Strike?"
Garen was taken aback, and then a familiar interface appeared in his mind.
[Host: Garen]
[Level: Fighting Spirit not detected]
[Ability Skill:
Fatal Strike: First Level skill. Can dash 20 meters instantly and deal double damage to the target, with a short-term silence effect on magic.]
[Talent Skill: Talent Skill not awakened]
[Items: Stormblade (rank unknown due to being in a dormant state), Watchtower Blueprint (original coordinates are a billion light-years away on the Valoran Continent, will be replicated in one week)]
**Physical Evaluation: Yet to cultivate the Fighting Spirit as a Novice. However, in terms of vitality, recovery, defense, and resilience, he is 4.2 times that of an ordinary man.**
After conversing with Kiran, Garen had accepted the existence of the Holy War System. Nevertheless, even so, when he saw the detailed explanation following "Fatal Strike," he couldn't help but feel surprised.
"This is... Fatal Strike!"
Garen directed his gaze toward the large tree several meters away, and suddenly a strange illusion appeared in his mind, as if he could reach that tree instantly with a burst of strength, even cleaving it in two!
Moreover, this was under the condition that he had lost his power. If he could utilize the Fighting Spirit to execute "Fatal Strike," Garen was confident that even if that tree were twice as thick, it would not stand against his blow.
Garen was very satisfied with this move, Fatal Strike. After a brief pause, he began to walk out of the forest.
The blueprint for the Watchtower would take another week to replicate. The immediate priority was to find a suitable place to settle down; of course, having a cup of sweet wine would be even better.
Just as Garen reached the large tree he had just passed, a rough and cold laugh suddenly echoed through the air.
Beneath the dense cover of trees lay a narrow muddy path.
About fifteen crude wooden carts were parked by the roadside, heavy sacks of rice piled on the sparse wooden boards. It was evident that this was a grain transport team, and judging by the markings on the carts, it belonged to Blackstone Town.
At this moment, more than twenty armed guards were gathered at the front of the team, glaring at the enemies blocking their path. However, upon closer observation, one could see that besides anger and vigilance in their eyes, there was also deep fear.
"Strick, you are becoming bolder by the day!"
Facing the continuous mockery from their enemies, the leader of the grain transport team, Black Duncan, stepped forward and fixed his gaze on the burly man sitting atop a black horse clad in black mink. "This is the Unique passage of Aguillon Mountains; do you not fear provoking the Baron's wrath by robbing here?"
Due to the treacherous terrain of Aguillon Mountains, Baron Yinkelang had long refrained from opening other mountain paths. Thus, committing acts of violence on this Unique passage was tantamount to directly challenging the Baron's authority.
On horseback, Strick ceased his mocking laughter and said slowly, "Black Duncan, have you lost your mind serving as that old man's guard? I am a Bandit; all I see are gold coins and food!"
"As for My Lord Baron..." Strick paused, deliberately feigning a thoughtful expression, then turned around and shouted, "Does anyone know Baron?"
Behind Strick, over thirty fine steeds stood, each mounted by a burly Bandit. Upon hearing Strick's voice, they erupted into raucous laughter, as if they had just heard the most absurd joke.
"Boss, that black dog guarding the mountain pass doesn't even have a name yet! Let's call it Baron Yinklang!” shouted a rugged man, swinging his large blade and bellowing.
The unabashed laughter echoed along the mountain path. More than twenty guards, including Black Duncan, tightened their grips on their weapons but dared not make a move. After all, in front of this group of Bandits, their small team was far too insignificant.
Strick slowly turned back, a cold smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Enough nonsense. Four hundred pounds of food, and I'll let you go alive."
"Four hundred pounds?"
Black Duncan widened his eyes and said in a low voice, "Strick, do you want everyone in town to starve to death? Don't forget, you were once part of that town!"
Strick shrugged nonchalantly. "You said it yourself—was. Ever since the old gang kicked me out, I no longer belong."
Black Duncan seemed unwilling to linger on this issue. He took a deep breath and said, "Two hundred pounds, no more than that!"
Strick replied coldly, "Three hundred pounds."
"Even if it comes to blows, you won't come out looking good! As far as I know, Sodoleer to the west has been keeping an eye on you. Are you not afraid of attracting trouble for this five hundred pounds of food?" Black Duncan said darkly.
Despite the formidable combat strength of Strick's men behind him, if a fight broke out, there would inevitably be losses. If this led to opportunities for other enemies to strike, it would clearly be more detrimental than beneficial for Strick.
However, Strick merely smiled and slowly raised his hand.
At the moment his palm lifted, the more than thirty Bandits behind him tightened their grips on their blades, pressing their bodies against their horses' backs and swiftly preparing for a charge.
"Wait!"
Just as Strick's hand was about to come down, Black Duncan finally spoke up.
"Three hundred pounds!"
Black Duncan gritted his teeth and glanced back at his subordinates, who were already terrified out of their wits. He noticed that two of them had quietly retreated to the last wooden cart, and he couldn't help but let out a low sigh.
However, Strick suddenly replied coldly, "Four hundred pounds."
"What?!"
Black Duncan glared fiercely at Strick and shouted, "Did we not agree on three hundred pounds? Don't force me to turn against you!"
"Turn against me? Hmph, just you alone, Black Duncan?"
Strick spat on the ground and pointed toward the nearby bushes, saying with a hint of mockery, "Or do you expect a Master of Aura or a Magic Expert to walk out from those bushes? Hahaha, enough playing around; leave all the food behind for me!"
More than thirty bandits burst into laughter, but gradually, the laughter began to fade away. Slowly, silence returned to the mountain path.
Under everyone's gaze, a tall and sturdy figure slowly emerged from the bushes.
With a clang, the Greatsword fell to the ground, instantly creating a deep dent in the earth.
Comment 0 Comment Count