Unholy Player Chapter 535 Henry's Plan (Part 3)

A profound hush enveloped the devastated landscape, so intense that the corrupted atmosphere itself appeared motionless.

The far-off songs of birds ceased suddenly. A gentle wind altered its path, as if evading some invisible presence. It whispered over fractured rocks and charred soil. Overhead, the sun continued its vigilant gaze upon the realms below, radiant and imposing as always.

Kaelor's shocking revelation left everyone rooted in shock. Even Soulforge Throgar, who had lingered there idly, responded. Both his faces swiveled simultaneously. One contorted in dread, while the other ignited with intense thrill. The shift was abrupt, as though an internal lever had been triggered within him.

"You... Why would you..." Aryvn faltered, her eyes wide as she gazed at him. Words escaped her to describe this twisted assembly of machinery before her, a mobile testament to lunacy.

Kaelor had forever been the prudent type, prioritizing discretion and moderation over all, occasionally to extremes, carefully crafting each phrase and shielding every clue as if it might draw blood.

Yet in this moment, he exposed their sect's supreme ambition to outsiders. Even foes. This surpassed lunacy and folly. It resembled a choice to ignore all repercussions entirely.

We cannot allow them to survive.

Aryvn resolved in an instant. Murderous resolve flooded her veins. Her crimson Rank 4 aura permeated the surroundings, coloring the particles and atmosphere while drenching the vicinity in ancient brutality.

Every observer had to be eliminated. She must act before the knowledge fell into perilous hands. She aimed to halt its dissemination via talks, couriers, or whispers. Before it escalated uncontrollably.

She prepared to dispatch them all with one swift skill sequence in a flawless strike, rapid and traceless—no gore, no remains, no residual energy linking back to her.

Yet prior to her advance, she paused upon hearing the drone's subsequent statement.

"The God of the Blood Path, huh? Reviving someone like Him must prove quite challenging."

Henry remarked as though pondering a moderately tough puzzle, composed and pragmatic, already mentally cataloging approaches and expenses.

He displayed no trace of worry. Not regarding their objective. Not about branding them heretical. Not over any such matter.

He embraced it with utter casualness. His inflection remained unchanged. His voice held firm via the drone, treating this as mere data to archive.

Aryvn found herself stunned. Her lethal intent evaporated at once. Astonishment plunged her into immobility, and the scarlet hue of her aura dissolved from the surroundings like a fire extinguished.

Challenging? This entity deems our Blood Sect's eternal pursuit merely challenging?

Then enlightenment struck her abruptly.

Her thoughts returned to the mentions of this domain's master. An inhabitant of the Central Region.

Her outlook expanded dramatically. It was akin to peering through a slim fissure at reality, only for it to broaden vastly.

A realm rumored to house Demigods. Just one stride from true Divinity...

Naturally, for beings like them, immersed in genuine might and striving for godhood, resurrecting a God would merely represent a demanding task, ambitious yet feasible, squarely within their grasp of achievability.

Zephan and Liora shared similar thoughts. They fixed their widened, dazed gazes on the drone. Their expressions rigidified, as if fearing a mere blink might obscure the import of Henry's declaration.

The Humans operated on a plane that appeared ridiculously elevated to them. But Henry's demeanor revealed their prior low estimates. These beings weren't just powerful; they perceived possibilities differently. Indeed, Henry feigned neither serenity nor dominance. His response rang authentic. He resembled one inured to impossibilities, no longer startled by another.

Having learned that Adyr forged a Path—a feat reserved for Gods—his worldview had already fractured. It splintered beneath the immense weight.

This mirrored a person accustomed to tycoons. Encountering a wealthy individual, he viewed him as yet another affluent soul. Not from hubris, but from an altered gauge of magnitude.

Nevertheless, lingering doubts persisted for him.

Grasping the Blood Sect's aim—to rouse their Path's originator—he sensed entanglement in a contest. A timer ignited the instant Kaelor's utterance escaped.

We must devise a way to rouse Adyr promptly. He pondered resolutely.

Their adversaries wielded the Blood Path. They sought to revive their God.

Humans now possessed the AXION Path too. And Adyr, its proprietor, was already revered as divine by many.

It evolved into a rivalry between powers. A debate on whose God and Path prevailed. A determination of the ultimate victor.

Although Humans counted only Rhys as awakened via the AXION Path, the scholars persisted in seeking methods for Adyr to awaken others with minimal drain on his vitality, experimenting, quantifying, and striving to avoid fatal outcomes.

Henry shattered the amazed quiet at last, after mulling it over. "Why not visit our city as honored guests? I can't send you away after you've traveled so far."

Previously, Henry would have barred two perilous intruders from entering his city, vehemently rejecting any such proposal due to intolerable hazards.

But his reality transformed daily. And he adapted alongside it. He grew adept at exchanging security for gain and trepidation for strategy.

The pair of Blood Path adherents before him transcended mere threats. They embodied chances and insights. Precisely what Humans required most presently.

Should Henry and the experts glean even a minor fact about their God's revival efforts, it might yield immense aid.

A single overlooked element could accelerate Adyr's restoration. "That would be an honor." Kaelor responded swiftly. He dreaded forfeiting the chance with any hesitation. His tone brimmed with undisguised zeal, as if the offer unlocked a long-craved portal.

He appeared to have discarded their Blood Sect assignment entirely. His sole aim now: encounter the Creator.

Aryvn, sensing no basis for denial, consented too. Their quest for the artifact had crumbled, yet she could at least witness the city and its Central Region natives.

"Good," Henry chuckled.

He issued a directive via his wrist gadget, audible solely to the STF. "Escort our guests to the cold room." He hesitated, then appended after brief reflection. "Make it showy."

Following his command, the earth beneath quaked. Aryvn and Kaelor staggered briefly as pebbles danced and particles erupted in fine puffs. It resembled a colossal entity stirring beneath the surface.

Then the heavens replied.

Across the horizon, remote to their sight, dark aerial forms ascended from beyond the ridges. Concurrently, enormous shadowy masses plummeted from the overhead clouds.

They resembled airborne sarcophagi. Their outlines expanded as they neared.

"What in the world are those?" Aryvn gaped as they materialized from all angles. Distant enough to appear as ebony specks. Yet the unfolding scene was evident. Scores of gigantic aerial vessels unveiled themselves simultaneously, the spectacle robbing their breath as the firmament swarmed with them.

The absence of any sensation from them—no essence, no aura, unlike Sparks—sent unease slithering through her. Only then did it dawn that the golden projectiles which struck their forms likely originated from these, launched with potency requiring no spiritual essence to prove deadly.

Henry observed Kaelor's response especially.

The automaton, already rattled by a tiny aerial drone, now quivered entirely at the emergence of countless vast hoverjets, appearing on the verge of kneeling to venerate the sacred machines.

One hoverjet detached from the array and approached the gathering. Its propulsion's thunder intensified nearer, compressing air in potent gusts. It halted overhead, suspended, then lowered gradually.