The First Magic World War-Chapter 658 - 623, blasphemer

Chapter 658: 623, blasphemer Chapter 658: 623, blasphemer The Four Great Empires had been at war for years.

Fars and Byron, the two nations most fiercely engaged in battle, were the first to falter.

Inglima, having opened up the battleground of Ojibwa Island, suffered an immense drain on its national strength, with an economy even worse off than Byron’s.

At least Byron had plundered the Black Phoenix and secured the allegiance of Duchess Meisu and Count Constantine.

The Lionheart Dynasty was in a slightly better situation, but struggling to support itself alone.

Moreover, since the battlefield was in Byron, voices within the Lionheart Dynasty had always insisted there was no need to fight for the People of Byron.

After all, the Governors of Byron were from the Blood Clan, who were fundamentally not aligned with the Human Race.

...

Baldwin Asa, as the Emperor, could not go against the majority opinion of the nobility.

All Four Great Empires had grown weary of the war, and many were secretly contacting Zimmerman, proposing a ceasefire.

Just over a month ago, Zimmerman suddenly issued a public demarche to the Four Great Empires, demanding they acknowledge the legitimacy of his occupied lands and recognize the new state.

If acknowledgment from the Four Great Empires was received, he would consider “restoring peace” at his discretion.

With hardly any hesitation, each of the Four Great Empires dispatched formal diplomatic missions into Zimmerman’s territory.

Although no agreement had been signed between the Four Great Empires and the immigrants of the New Continent, a ceasefire had already been scheduled.

During this time, Charles had already transported the Emilia Vessel and the Holy Light Divine State Title to the battlefield, placing them at the forefront, and had constructed twelve Temples of the Serpent of Destiny and dozens of Lantern Towers around the Domain of the Lord of Rot.

He’d also maze-ified the surrounding land, preparing to launch the final battle against the Evil God.

Upon receiving this news, all he could do was let out a long sigh, with nothing more to say.

Charles Meklen had now become a qualified politician.

He was well aware that as long as Zimmerman didn’t go insane and continued to fight, the demise of those small nations meant they were gone for good—no one would care about their fate.

For the sake of a ceasefire, the Four Great Empires were prepared to compromise and concede.

Honestly speaking, there was no deep-seated enmity between Charles and Zimmerman.

Indeed, to steal the Empire Rose was an unfounded rumor.

First, he’d never stolen it.

Second, even if he had, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.

Though Menilman’s charm was Unparalleled, it truly couldn’t sway the situation of the entire continent.

Wars involving several empires because of a beautiful woman were matters of myth and fiction, never the reality of true history.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

Unless history was too ugly and needed the calamity of a beauty to conceal its true face.

As for Charles inadvertently foiling some of Zimmerman’s plans, since it was already done, Zimmerman might not even want to pursue the matter to the end.

Given the choice, Charles would also like to withdraw from the battle.

There was room to ease the tension between him and Zimmerman—after all, Zimmerman simply aspired for divinity, and he himself simply wanted to live a good life.

Their issues conflicted, but were not irreconcilable.

However, even if Zimmerman were to cease hostilities, Charles could not return to his own territory to enjoy the hard-won peace.

Because…

There was no room for compromise between him and the Evil God.

He wasn’t fighting for Fars, Inglima, or Ojibwa Island, but for the True God.

Charles Meklen and the Serpent of Destiny, one of the nine True Gods, had become tightly bound together.

The Lampbearer had added one more procedure, gifting him the Dead Sea Scrolls, which contained countless fragments of Evil Gods.

Only if the True God emerged victorious from the war could he truly break free from the conflict and return to a peaceful life.

Upon receiving this news, Charles accelerated the siege against the Lord of Rot.

After a year and a half of arduous fighting, the influence of this Evil God had shrunk to the size of a district in Strasbourg.

Its primal power had suffered great losses, dwindling to an extreme state of feebleness.

Charles had always been prepared, and this time he launched an all-out offensive with even more ferocity.

His Westwind Knighthood had already acquired more than six hundred Land Battleships, nearly a thousand Centurions, and even over one hundred fifty Chiliarchs.

The force he had amassed was more than sufficient.

On the sixth day of the final battle against the Lord of Rot, Charles was supervising the battlefield.

The Sacred level forces of the Mecklen Duchy had all mobilized.

Lights trailed across the sky, a spectacle more magnificent than any battle on the Old Continent.

The Land Battleships and Centurions worked in concert on the ground.

In the fight against the rotten polluters spawned by the Lord of Rot, they were nearly able to push through with ease, facing little danger apart from needing cleansing after the battle.

The Chiliarchs, with combat power comparable to a High-Level Transcendent, became the sharp edge of the assault troops.

Charles seemed to sense something; suddenly, he vanished into the void.

Of course, he hadn’t left the battlefield; instead, he had entered another world.

In this world, the Lord of Rot was not an agglomeration of countless corpses and decaying flesh but rather a gigantic worm with numerous heads and arms where each “bristle” protruding from its body was an active “Undead Spirit Body.”

No one could describe its strangeness; it should not exist in this world.

Charles took a deep breath.

He could sense the Lord of Rot’s anger, berserkness, restlessness, evil, filth, and surging evil thoughts as profound as a black void.

In this world, countless others were also fighting.

Many of the Sacred level members of the Westwind Knighthood had grown accustomed to fighting here, bolstered by the Holy Light Divine State Title and the support of the Emilia Vessel.

Of course, the two most active individuals were not the Sacred level fighters under Charles’ command, but Amon and Emilia.

They continuously tore chunks of flesh from the massive body of the Lord of Rot and cast them into the void.

Neither of them wished to consume the flesh tainted with rotten evil power, so these flesh pieces were thrown into the hills of mud transformed from the Lord of Filth’s body.

In the hills of mud, the flesh would be “purified,” or rather transformed, becoming part of the mud itself.

The wormlike Lord of Rot, with a body stretching over ten kilometers long and girth so thick it was beyond belief, used to be at least fifty to sixty times larger than now.

Over the prolonged battle, it had lost ninety percent of its body mass.

However, Charles had yet to find where its soul and authority hid, nor found Its divine body.

Without stripping away Its authority and annihilating Its soul, the war would not come to an end.

Charles raised his Flame Spear high and joined the battle.

His arrival ignited all the Evil Force within the Lord of Rot.

The Evil God had long since marked Charles as Its eternal, unforgettable nemesis, the enemy, the unforgivable blasphemer.

It was determined to kill this tiny, despicable, shameless human.

To let him rot, to disappear from every world.