In the decade-long overlord-level melee, the clash between Klopp and the Evileye Tyrant Monarch stood out as the most straightforward of all.

Klopp had no interest in subtlety. He traded blow for blow, injury for injury, determined to settle things head-on with the Evileye Tyrant Monarch.

Whenever the Tyrant Monarch pierced Klopp’s torso or arms with its special Evileye Beams, Klopp would heal himself almost instantly through his Omnipotent Soul.

Such was the nature of an overlord’s soul. As long as sufficient essence remained, it could regenerate not only severed limbs, but even a body torn to shreds, all while maintaining peak combat strength!

This was the true might of an overlord.

The Evileye Tyrant Monarch, however, stood in stark contrast. Its soul essence was nearly depleted, and it could no longer afford such reckless exchanges.

The massive creature’s central eye was now riddled with cracks and stained with crimson-purple blood. Worse still, fewer than ten percent of its tentacles remained intact.

Even those were little more than mangled remnants.

It had placed all its hopes on the Eighth Pharaoh King breaking through the encirclement, but at this point, Klopp would likely finish it off long before the Eighth Pharaoh King could escape the combined pressure of Bev and the others.

Meanwhile, the Eighth Pharaoh King’s burst phase was steadily coming to an end. Its weakening state did not escape the Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s notice.

At last, the creature understood that escape was no longer possible for either of them.

Driven by pure survival instinct, the Evileye Tyrant Monarch once again groveled for mercy before Klopp, Bev, and the others, utterly devoid of dignity.

But neither Klopp nor Bev was moved in the slightest. What pity could such a fickle creature deserve?

From its initial betrayal of the Magus Civilization to its constant flip-flopping ever since, did it even possess anything resembling a firm stance?

With a thunderous strike, Klopp’s fist shattered another round, purple eyeball at the tip of one of its tentacles.

Given the state of the Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s remaining overlord soul, it could not even heal its primary wounds, let alone regenerate these destroyed auxiliary eyes.

Klopp wiped the purple blood from his fist.

The Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s blood was as filthy as its nature, carrying lingering negative effects that were difficult to purge in the short term.

Realizing that immediate cleansing was impossible, Klopp did not waste his Overlord Soul on healing. Instead, he raised one hand, and a world-class secret treasure slowly took shape within his grasp.

The Black Chain Spear. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

The moment that spear reappeared in its field of vision, the Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s massive body began to tremble uncontrollably.

At this moment, the central eye of the Evileye Tyrant Monarch bore five critical, devastating wounds. Three of them had been inflicted by Klopp over the years, each pierced clean through by his Black Chain Spear.

The Tyrant Monarch had no idea how many more exchanges it could endure. Two more? Or perhaps only one?

Sensing an overwhelming threat to its survival and realizing that words alone would never shake the resolve of Klopp, Bev, and the others, the creature chose to demonstrate its sincerity through action.

A purple beam streaked with foul blood burst forth from its enormous eyeball.

The beam was not aimed at Klopp, nor at Bev and the others. Instead, it struck the besieged Eighth Pharaoh directly!

Caught off guard by the Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s betrayal, the Eighth Pharaoh staggered. In the same instant, the Fire Phoenix raked claws across his chest, Aeberton slashed him with a sword, and Bev pierced his shoulder with her Aurora Rite spell.

Such was the grim reality of being surrounded. For every strike he landed, nearly ten more followed in return.

When concentrated long enough, even the combined attacks of Rank Seven powerhouses like Zenasus and Kassedar were enough to overwhelm the Eighth Pharaoh.

Now stabbed in the back once again by the Evileye Tyrant Monarch, the Eighth Pharaoh merely cast it a cold glance and offered no response.

He understood all too well that any action he took now would be meaningless.

With the Magus Civilization deploying such an overwhelming force, there was no chance they would allow him to escape.

Moreover, as an Overlord of the Amenkha Empire, the Eighth Pharaoh was far too proud to grovel and beg for mercy like the Evileye Tyrant Monarch.

Besides, would groveling save his life?

The Eighth Pharaoh had long seen through the cold, cruel core hidden beneath the Magus Civilization’s outwardly hypocritical civility.

After all, the Amenkha Empire was a renowned top-tier civilization, and it never bothered to hide its ferocity or predatory nature.

Their tradition of flaying defeated foes and wearing their skins was but one example. A single glimpse of its true nature was enough to inspire dread.

By contrast, the Magus Civilization maintained a far more restrained facade.

Take the Magus Alliance’s expansion system, for instance. At first glance, it might even appear benevolent.

Likewise, the Magus Civilization rarely displayed its cruelty or predatory instincts openly.

In laboratories, mages revealed their twisted, truth-obsessed madness. Outside them, most Magus World mages appeared polite, reasonable, and eager to engage in discourse.

It was difficult to say which approach was truly superior.

But the Eighth Pharaoh had a feeling that the Magus Civilization might prove far more troublesome in the future than their long-standing rival, the Luminara Civilization.

The Evileye Tyrant Monarch’s latest betrayal looked utterly clownish in the eyes of the Magus Civilization’s powerhouses.

The Magus Civilization would never spare it for such a performance, nor did the Magus World possess the means to forcibly control a Rank Seven entity that still retained an overlord soul.

If the Evileye Tyrant Monarch truly wished to contribute to the Magus Civilization, then the best thing it could do was die.

Its physical remains would become a highly coveted prize among Magus World powerhouses.

If its corpse remained sufficiently intact, the Magus Civilization might even refine it into an overlord-level undead chimera beast, allowing it to serve the Magus Civilization in another form.

That said, a synthesized overlord-level creature would never be superior to a true overlord.

There was no helping it. Without the Omnipotent Soul, the most crucial component, the power an overlord’s corpse could unleash was inherently limited.

Klopp watched calmly as the Evileye Tyrant Monarch launched its frenzied assault on the Eighth Pharaoh.

He patiently crossed his arms as the Black Chain Spear hovered directly above him, quietly awaiting the moment to unleash its killing blow.

At this moment, the knight overlord looked more like an observer, watching a savage dogfight play out.

His only mild disappointment was that the Eighth Pharaoh refrained from striking back at the pitiful Evileye Tyrant Monarch.

Knowing escape was no longer possible, the Pharaoh simply sought to inflict as much damage as he could on the Magus Civilization’s powerhouses before meeting his end.

Midway through her spellcasting, Bev suddenly sensed a strange ripple form beside her. The Rank Seven astrologer, Jehovah Nordin, whose hiding place had remained unknown until now, appeared at her side and quietly delivered his report.

“Oh?” A flicker of surprise crossed Bev’s face as she lifted her gaze toward a distant patch of starry sky.

“Send Kassedar, Zenasus, and Clair over. The Eighth Pharaoh’s burst phase is essentially over. He’s about to enter a weakened state,” she said calmly.

“Forcibly unsealing his left arm has only worsened the backlash he is suffering. Our remaining forces are more than enough to keep him suppressed and maintain the encirclement until the kill. Tell Kassedar and the others that they may attempt to draw that overlord-class federal fleet here as well,” Bev added.

“They chose hell over heaven and walked straight to its doorstep. Oh well, taking out an overlord-class war fleet in the process would be a bonus,” she murmured to herself.

Jehovah Nordin nodded, then continued, “The Fate Crystal Ball is running out of power. The control period is nearly over. I believe we should act faster.”

“Over in the Amenkha Empire, the Eighth Pharaoh has been missing for nearly a decade. They may begin to harbor doubts,” he warned.

“As for what the future holds, I can no longer see it clearly. Perhaps the future is never certain to begin with,” the astrologer commented with a quiet sigh.

The smile on Bev’s face faded.

“Understood,” she said, nodding solemnly.