The Transcendent Godslayer-Chapter 84: Lyra Aurora Avalon Crimson

The remaining Saints launched toward the rift like moth to flame, attacking one another in a brutal free-for-all, each trying to cripple their competition before they could get close.

Those in the lead bore the brunt of the chaos—assaulted from behind, dodging incoming strikes, all while racing toward the rift.

The sky trembled, and the ocean evaporated en masse, beneath their clash.

Then finally, the familiar gnome from earlier reached the rift, his face lit with glee.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward... into it?

A projectile sliced past the Saints behind, with such ferocity and speed that most were barely able to dodge its path. The air around it trembled violently from the force of its passage.

It stopped mid-air, hovering a short distance away. Slowly, heads turned.

The gnome, standing frozen a distance away from the Saints and the rift, completely ignored the probing stare of other Saints on him, staring at the rift with a dark, brooding expression.

---

The air trembled, concentric circles rippling through the sky a short distance from the Crimson estate, followed moments later by the thunderous echoes of sonic booms.

Inside the ward where Lyra had fought, a crimson-haired man stood silently. His deep crimson eyes, like abyssal oceans of blood, were fixed on the dismembered body lying before him... one that was clearly once a woman.

Less than a second later, several figures appeared behind him, all bearing the same signature crimson hair of the Crimson family.

High above the hospital, many other Saints materialized one after another, paying the Crimson family their due respect by keeping their distance. None tried to approach uninvited.

Besides, what they had come to investigate had occurred in the sky, albeit directly over the hospital.

When the gazes of the Crimson Saints behind the man landed on the mutilated corpse before them, their expressions darkened, and the sky above their estate began to take on a deep crimson hue.

Curious, many Saints extended their Wills downward, attempting to probe the source of this sudden shift in atmosphere. Perhaps they had been mistaken to believe the sky alone held the answers.

Upon seeing the body, many were struck speechless, not knowing what to say.

It was just a body, Why were they so...

A cold sweat ran down the backs of some Saints, and they withdrew their Wills instantly.

A few began to emit the faint scent of blood on their person, and their expressions paled a little. Without a second thought, they instantly distanced themselves from the hospital’s airspace.

Those who had sensed that scent on others, swiftly distanced themselves from those affected as well, creating a wide berth.

Inside the ward, the cause of their reactions stood unmoving, his eyes still fixed on the desecrated remains. The faint, ever-present scent of blood that clung to him, thickened with every second, and spreading like a cancerous poison.

A subtle wave of killing intent lingered in the air... faint, yet sharp enough that it made even the spines of the Crimson Saints’ behind him, tingle.

Suddenly, the man’s head snapped upward, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion as they locked onto two figures in the sky. Under his chilling stare, both slowly retracted their Wills—as if issuing a silent declaration of their own.

One withdrew calmly, as if unfazed by him. The other retreated with a visible scoff, the sound of a dismissive snort or harrumph echoing faintly in the air.

Barely a second passed before a large man descended from high above, landing heavily in the ward, among the Crimson Saints. The impact shook the foundation slightly.

Holding his breath, he walked past the gathered Saints, being a Saint himself, past even the terrifying man whose stare had sent shivers up so many spines, and stopped before the scattered remains. Confirming his suspicions, his broad shoulders trembled.

High in the air, a woman hovered, looking like Lyra’s mirror image. The only differences were her green hair and fairer complexion. Unlike the latter, she had milky white skin compared to Lyra’s tanned bronze.

Like her daughter, she also bore the same amber eyes, and more iconic... same elven ears, being a high blood Forest elf herself. Slowly, shakily, she descended.

She too passed the Crimson Saints, silent and grief-stricken, until she stood before the desecrated remains. Coming to a stop beside the broad man, her soul seemed to leave her body as her legs gave out.

The man beside her caught her before she could collapse. His arms; robust and unnaturally lustrous, gleaming like polished brown alloy, trade mark of the Valgorian race, wrapped gently around her fragile frame, cradling her as one might a delicate flower.

His almost gold eyes brimmed with sorrow, fury, disappointment, and bitter resentment.

"Who did this?" he asked, voice low and ragged, barely above a whisper.

Behind him, the Crimson Saints sighed silently. None however, voiced out the thoughts in their heads.

They had only just arrived, together at that. They hadn’t had time to inspect anything. The scene before them was still a shock to them as it was to him. How could they know who did... this?

However, they understood that he already knew all that, and still asked anyways. His question wasn’t one of ignorance... It was grief speaking.

Azarel exhaled audibly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

After a few seconds of silence, their collective attention shifted to the other man who had arrived here first. With his Will permeating the atmosphere like this, it was hard to really do anything.

The man was still standing, with his head still tilted toward the heavens, unblinking, eyes fixed on the two figures who had dared to...

"Si—" Sixtus wanted to call to him to drop it, but the man subtly shook his head, silencing him. Sixtus obeyed and returned his focus to the grieving couple.

A moment later, the man finally tore his gaze away from the sky, earning him another scoff filled with disdain, from the same figure who had snorted earlier. This time however, he ignored it completely.

Instead, his eyes settled on the mangled form on the ground. He too sighed.

The two figures before the remains, remained in silence, consumed by sorrow.

The body parts were dry, aged and withered... cracks even lining it’s surface, but even in death, even desecrated as they were, they radiated an unmistakable vitality, a powerful lingering aura.

Its dynamis imprints, still bare in the world to see..

There was no mistaking it. That was the Matriarch of the Crimson family.

Lyra Aurora Avalon Crimson.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by f(r)eew𝒆bn(o)vel.com