Cursed Immortality

Chapter 1187: I have bad knees

"I’m Myth of Reverend!"

The Myth of Reverend introduced himself in a friendly manner, as if he didn’t just invade the Mythical Coalition’s hideout, but was instead invited by the speechless yet highly alert Coalition Founders.

Furthermore, his carefree and slightly eccentric personality irked both Coalition Founders the most, not to mention they couldn’t see through Myth of Reverend’s actual depths as if the latter was shrouded by an unimpeachable veil.

Nonetheless, neither the Myth of Oracle nor the Coalition Master buys Myth of Reverend’s goofy act, especially after witnessing what just happened to the Myth of White Swordsman, and their inability to stop Myth of Reverend’s presumably ’self-summing ritual’.

"Myth of Reverend..." The Coalition Master repeated the name in his booming voice, filled with hostility, as if trying to remember if he had ever heard of it, but nothing even remotely related came to mind.

Yet, the Coalition Master remained seated upon his towering throne, his colossal silhouette shrouded in churning layers of spatial fog. The mist rotated like restrained chains, compressing and expanding in silent preparation.

On the other hand, the Myth of Oracle stood half a step forward from her seat, pentagram blazing faintly, probabilities spiraling around her like unseen threads tightening like a coiling snake ready to spring into action.

"What business do you have with us, fellow Myth?" She seemed to return to her composed self as she questioned in an even tone, but the pentagram on her mask was flickering with a dangerous aura.

The Myth of Reverend smiled before he tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled by Myth of Oracle’s question.

"This isn’t appropriate, right? Fellow myths?" He said in an almost reproachful yet lighthearted tone, "I’ve sincerely introduced myself, yet I don’t know your exalted titles at all."

As he spoke, he suddenly began walking, yet not cautiously or defensively but casually. Each step he took rippled space beneath his feet like calm water disturbed by a pebble.

The Coalition Master’s oppressive pressure descended in invisible waves; space folding, gravity twisting, and dimensional layers compressing toward him.

However, the Myth of Reverend did not slow or brace himself; he did not even seem to notice as the pressure that could freeze even Quasi-Myths into ash slid past him like wind brushing through grass.

That single action of Myth of Reverend nearly triggered both Coalition Founders as the pentagram on the Myth of Oracle’s mask flared violently while the mist around the Coalition Master thickened into near-solid spatial walls.

For a fraction of a second, killing intent aligned, but then Reverend continued speaking.

"Although I admit I’ve ’entered’ in an unorthodox way," he added with a sheepish smile, raising a hand apologetically, "please trust me when I say, I come in peace."

He reached the seat to the left of the Coalition Master, directly across from the Myth of Oracle, and calmly pulled it back. The faint scraping sound against the ethereal floor echoed far louder than it should have.

But the Myth of Reverend seemed not to hear it as he sat down and crossed one leg over the other and glanced up at the shrouded giant on the throne with open curiosity, as if examining an interesting artifact rather than a power Quasi-Myth with unknown capacities.

However, the Coalition Master did not reveal his form as if unwilling or restrain and the mist around him continued to churn, refusing to part under the Myth of Reverend’s peculiar gaze.

On the other hand, the Myth of Oracle remained standing, but her entire body was subtly poised, ready to strike, and to activate a contingency that perhaps even the Coalition Master did not know she possessed.

At that moment, the Myth of Reverend looked at her while blinking innocently.

"My Lady," he said, genuinely curious, "why aren’t you sitting? I’ll be embarrassed sitting like this all by myself. You see... I have bad knees."

The moment those words left Myth of Reverend’s mouth, for the first time since the Coalition’s founding, the two Founders were genuinely startled, not by power or law but by the absurdity of the sentence.

Thus, for one dangerous instant, they almost believed him an idiot, but they had seen the ’trap’ made out of a Quasi-Myth, and because of it, nothing was left of him as he was erased without resistance.

That’s why they know there was no idiocy here, only something far more unsettling, because he spoke those ridiculous words with absolute sincerity.

After a brief pause, the Myth of Oracle slowly returned to her seat, but she did not relax nor lower her guard. She sat while the pentagram on her mask dimmed slightly, though it continued to rotate in vigilant cycles.

The Coalition Master’s mist gradually calmed as well, though it never stopped revolving like chains ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

At this moment, the Myth of Reverend nodded approvingly as he said cheerfully, "Now that’s better. See? We’re all friends here. There’s no need to be hostile at all."

He clasped his hands together on the table, "Now, let’s start this over, shall we? I’m Myth of Reverend."

The Myth of Oracle’s voice came measured and steady as she replied, "Myth of Oracle, though I believe fellow myth already knew this. Oh, and since you are speaking of politeness,"

She continued coolly with a hint of ridicule, "I believe you owe us an explanation about suddenly barging in here while killing one of our esteemed members in cold blood. If you wished to meet us, you could have asked instead of killing the Myth of White Swordsman. And he seemed to be working towards that exact goal as well and I believe he succeeded...even."

"Oh," He said lightly, almost apologetically. "That was indeed inappropriate of me."

At that moment, for the first time, the Myth of Reverend’s smile shifted into something wrong and creepier, but only for a flickering moment. But it didn’t go unnoticed that the mist around the Coalition Master turned colder, and Myth of Oracle felt it too.

"But I was in a hurry," the Myth of Reverend continued, shrugging slightly as his tone remained casually warm and friendly, "So, I had no choice but to complete Brother White Swordsman’s wish. It was a win-win situation. I can assure you of that."

A sudden chill crawled down the Myth of Oracle’s spine from implication while the Coalition Master remained silent, but the spatial distortion around him sharpened, edges forming where none should exist.

Myth of Oracle’s voice lowered as she couldn’t help but ask, "What wish?"

The Myth of Reverend leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowing with faint amusement while his vertical pupils seemed to deepen as he said gently, "Of course, to ’ascend,’ and I made it happen!"