The Oracle Paths

Chapter 787 Good Stuff

Jake first felt his hair stand on end with a terrible feeling of foreboding from his Eltarian Bloodline. Out of pure self-preservation his muscular body was instantly coated with Adamantium, a helmet at least eight inches thick encasing his head and giving him a mushroom-like appearance.

His Luck also kicked in and miraculously Shamash’s scattered aura went past him without clashing head-on with him. Nevertheless, the faint trace of that aura that brushed against him triggered a radiating pain throughout his Spirit Body and even his soul that was nestled safely in his glabella seemed about to be extinguished.

For a brief second, Jake forgot who he was and collapsed to the ground after teleporting as far away from Shamash as possible. When he regained consciousness at the far end of the hall, he saw that two-thirds of the Myrtharian Nerds were lying dead on the floor, their bodies unharmed.

Those closest to the epicenter had not survived except for those who had donned their Adamantium helmets in time. Hade had reacted just in time and managed to shield a group of Myrmidians with his own aura, but blood was pouring out of all his orifices and he had a haggard expression as if he were about to faint.

The small fry of the Myrtharian Nerds had all been exterminated without exception, including those who had equipped an Adamantium helmet in time. Some others, although talented, had not fitted their helmets in time and their souls had been fatally damaged. To avoid any incidents, their souls were hurriedly repatriated to the Red Cube, as they were about to dissipate.

Among them were Ingranus, Nicolet, but also Peter, who in his flippancy had never really thought himself in danger. He still had the cigarette he had just lit in the middle of the fight in his mouth, his face blissful.

His bloodline had a lot to do with his overconfidence. Even in case of failure, the addict had never imagined himself dying.

The Thousand Poison Hydra, a dreaded Grade 10 Bloodline. As long as his Hydra Core was intact, host to his Soul, Peter would continue to spawn new clones every time his head was sliced off until the battle ended. He was immune to almost all poisons and could evolve his bloodline and his own venom by digesting them.

His Hydra Core was like an Aether Soul Core, but also contained his bloodline essence. With his Soul within, Peter naturally believed himself to be invulnerable and this caused his downfall.

Hephais had survived by merging into the shadows as soon as he felt the aura wash over them. The first lesson his mentor had taught him as an assassin was to survive, no matter what. This went directly against the precept that assassins should sacrifice themselves selflessly to carry out their missions.

The picture was a little better for the Myrmidians who were used to battling in helmets and armor come rain or shine. Some were even so paranoid from fighting the Digestors that they slept and showered in their gear.

Despite this, about 40% of them died. It was a testament to the horrific power of Shamash’s psychic attack.

Lucia, like Jake, had blacked out after teleporting to the other end of the hall. In her half-opened hand, a golden pearl covered with cracks was glowing dimly. Presumably the item that saved her life.

As for the other casualties, Wyatt and Seren proved to be the only survivors from Pureblood. Seren was a specialist in mental illusions and knew how to protect her mind. Despite her big-breasted lolita appearance, she was actually over 70 years old. Her Spirit Body lvl was far above the average level of the participants.

As for Wyatt, he had survived because his Vampire Progenitor Bloodline made him virtually unkillable if he wasn’t injured by a Holy Weapon or exposed to the sun. His Bloodline had evolved further and now amplified all his attributes, including his Spirit Body density by a factor of 120. This was enough to allow him to survive once his Blood Barrier was erected.

The two brothers Lysander and Kenway were of course alive due to their high level.

“I-Impossible.” Jake stammered as he stood up with a splitting headache.

That psychic attack… That was consistent with a level 95 or higher Spirit Body. It should be something impossible from a Fourth-Ordeal Player. If Shamash had thrown such an over-the-top spirit technique from the get-go, most of them would have been slaughtered instantly.

Better yet. If the god had stopped acting like a bombastic villain and used a soul attack during their assault when they least expected it, he might have even killed him and Lucia. Even if they survived, they would have been out cold for a while. Only Hade, perhaps, stood a chance of weathering this soul attack and remaining unscathed.

Still in the same spot in the center of the huge hall, Shamash was on his knees, covered in blood, his aura exceedingly faint. However, Jake and the other spectators only found him more dangerous.

For his body temperature was spiking rapidly. Like a re-enactment of Haynt’s death earlier, the dying god summoned a monstrous sun 30 meters in diameter above him and with a vacant stare let himself be sucked into it.

Soon the sun’s brilliance intensified and Jake’s pupils narrowed with fright as he realized what was about to happen. A Supernova.

“Run!”

He didn’t need to repeat himself a second time. His shout was the trigger that snapped the Myrtharian Nerds and Pureblood Vampires out of their daze and they all rushed without looking back in the opposite direction of the god.

Jake and Hade stayed behind to counteract the heat and radiation as best they could, but eventually they too had to retreat. Before teleporting away, the sun’s volume expanded a hundredfold and half of the Dark Race district collapsed into darkness, dragging most of the sleeping inhabitants with it into the flames.

The fallout from the explosion plunged the entire Laudarkvik into smoke and the flames rose to the sky, prompting the evacuation of the two neighboring districts. It was a chaotic night as the two coalitions worked hand in hand to extinguish the flames.

No one knew what had happened and no one cared. The Stele’s prophecy was about to be fulfilled and the war was already at their doorstep. This cataclysm only set the stage for much worse things to come.

The Myrtharian Nerds and Pureblood joined in the operation in silence, none of them daring to claim that they were responsible for this catastrophe. But not everyone was fooled.

That night Astraroth Thozuch left Laudarkvik with his clan. When Aggenur Dorgrarauth saw him leave, he felt that the tide had turned and he followed in his footsteps, vanishing into the night. Only Xaverie Zangruth, Aisling’s mother, and Seskel Thrajah chose to stay in the city.

The first one because she believed in her daughter. The second one… because he was prideful to the point of being retarded.

It was only in the morning, well, in a manner of speaking, since night was now permanent in all the southern part of the continent, that the fire was extinguished. Nothing was found in the rubble but ashes.

Long before, Jake had teleported to Vhoskaud’s burning lab to see if Shamash had left anything behind when he perished and to remove the traces of their battle, but he found nothing but a dusty golden Medallion depicting a winged sun.

[Bronze God Artifact: The Solar Disc of Shamash: A medallion representing his divine authority over the Sun. In Babylonian mythology, and as in many primitive societies that believed their planet to be flat, Shamash, like Ra and other billions of iterations of the sun god in the Mirror Universe, were benevolent gods who provided an explanation for the sun’s course. Their divine role was to pull it across the sky during the day. This medallion represents this divine authority and will be treated as a Sun God, becoming eligible for a sliver of Faith Energy from populations believing in such concepts.]

“Thaaat’s… Good stuff!” Jake beamed as he immediately put the medallion around his neck.

The description was vague, but he got the gist. It didn’t matter if Shamash was really a god from Earth or not. What mattered was what he represented. This Medallion had been with him for a very long time and could almost be considered a Divinity in its own right.

These days his Luck stat was beginning to show its usefulness. The opportunities they encountered were fraught with danger, but the rewards were also commensurate with the risk.

He had long since wiped the Words of Power from his skin and was currently weaker than ever, his mind so weak he could barely stay conscious. Using any spell was obviously impossible.

And yet, he was ecstatic.