Man on the ark, forced to become king

The Babel Tower agent pushed open the office door and bowed respectfully, saying, "Your convertible is ready."

"Convertible?"

Theresa subconsciously looked out the window. Although the sun hadn't fully risen yet, she could already see the oppressive clouds overhead through the light on the horizon. The weather today was clearly not going to be very good.

In this kind of weather, it could rain at any moment, and then she'll have to drive her convertible out?

Who came up with this brilliant idea?

"...Your Highness, since you instructed that this trip should be more formal, our battle-damaged jeeps are simply not presentable. Only this one looks somewhat better, so..."

The operator didn't explain things very clearly, but the lingering embarrassment on her face was very noticeable even with her head down.

Hearing him say that, Theresa felt a little embarrassed.

"Alright, get ready, let's go."

After a moment's thought, she decided to skip the topic.

A convertible is fine, the journey isn't too far, nothing should happen...

------------------

Crackling!

The pure white frost stretched along the gravel and sand, extending for tens of meters, lowering the surrounding temperature by several degrees.

Lin Lu walked over from behind and saw the pale, cold moon explode in the distance.

"How is it? Is this body comfortable to use?"

"It went very smoothly. As I expected, after being transferred to this body, I was able to stay fully conscious and no longer needed to isolate myself."

Her bright red hair rippled through the air, casting a crimson hue. Lani turned around, her azure eyes seeming to hold a dark moon.

Although they still lack the senses to rival those of true life, the ability to move freely between heaven and earth is already quite satisfying.

Not to mention that this body's performance is even stronger than expected, and it can be almost indiscriminately compatible with spells from the borderlands.

Of course, it would be even better if those 'small devices' implanted in the body could be removed, such as the lightsaber in the arm, the eyes that shoot beams of light, and the mouth that breathes fire...

"That's good."

With outstretched arms, Lin Lu embraced the petite girl, holding her close and feeling the warm, realistic touch. Her mood instantly improved, and even her tone became much lighter.

"A message came from the Tower of Babel using the emergency communication device. Theresa is already on her way. Do you want to come with me to meet her?"

"What, are we supposed to go out and greet her?"

Lani frowned slightly, feeling somewhat puzzled.

The Golden Tree and the Tower of Babel are equal in the Covenant, and in any case, they have no obligation to actively welcome the Demon King of the Tower of Babel.

"Of course it's not to welcome you, we just felt we should go and see, just the two of us, without anyone else."

Reflected in her eyes the slightly gloomy sky in the distance, Lin Lu released her arms, her expression somewhat subtle.

"I don't know why, but after seeing that emergency communication, I had a bad feeling, as if the Tower of Babel was bound to encounter some kind of accident on the way."

"If it were just idle speculation, that would be one thing, but this time the feeling is particularly clear. I think it's better to take it seriously. If something really happens near our territory, wouldn't that be a slap in the face for us?"

"alright."

Lani thought this reason was extremely unreliable, no different from a casual excuse.

However, she did not refuse. She had been cooped up for so long since she came into this world and finally had a body that could move freely. She didn't mind going around and having a reason or not.

Chapter 151 The Death of the Demon King - Prelude

Will there be any problems if we implement the plan ahead of schedule?

On the windswept wasteland, the mercenary captain, carrying a heavy greatsword, leaned against a large rock and tilted his head to look at his temporary companions beside him—men whose entire bodies were covered by black robes and masks; they called themselves 'pardoners'.

The name sounds very ceremonial and is easily associated with some mysterious religions. The Sarkaz are a large race and were the first to master Originium magic. Their research on magic is unparalleled in the world. Even though they have declined now, the knowledge passed down from their ancestors is still ridiculously extensive.

However, just because something has been passed down and mastered does not mean that it is necessarily complete.

War caused many pieces of knowledge to be lost or missing, which gave rise to many small groups that interpreted certain spells in their own way.

Throughout his years of fighting, the mercenary captain had seen countless similar individuals. They all shared a common trait—they liked to present themselves as particularly mysterious, just like they were now.

However, he didn't care how skilled these pardoners were, nor did he bother to think about whose sins they wanted to pardon.

Mercenaries are people who do things for money. Whether these people are capable or not is another matter, but at least they are generous enough. As long as you pay them, anything is negotiable. The generous reward even made the entire mercenary group quiet down and serve only this one thing.

Of course, the reward, which was generous enough to ensure their livelihood for the rest of their lives, was indeed worth the price—they were going to assassinate the 'Demon King'.

For the Sarkaz, it takes immense courage to confront the Demon King. It has nothing to do with strength; it's about the suppression of bloodline. Whether they acknowledge it or not, the Sarkaz King is undeniably real, and anyone with Sarkaz blood flowing in their veins must accept this fact.

However, in such a large group, there are always some outliers. There are very few people who would dare to attack the Demon King for money. Coincidentally, the mercenary captain considers himself one of them.

"Just do it, don't ask any more questions."

The pardoner tilted his head slightly, as if observing the sky, but from the mercenary captain's perspective, there was nothing in the sky except for oppressive dark clouds.

"Okay, you have the final say."

Since the employer had said so, the mercenary captain naturally had nothing to say.

Whether it's the Demon King or anyone else, it's all the same. Just take action. Whether it succeeds or not is none of his business. He naturally has his own backup plan.

Those who thrive in a place like Kazdel are not brainless fools or reckless brutes. If something really goes wrong, it's almost impossible to expect them to fight desperately. Their goal is to make money, not to die for their employers.

The pardoner was well aware of this; he knew these men who lived on the edge were not reliable.

But that doesn't matter, it's just a container anyway.

Fighting the Demon King by force is unwise, almost the worst possible approach, but they are still confident that this place will become the Demon King's death ground, requiring only a small 'price'.

------------------

"Hoo... Is something wrong, Ascaron?"

Feeling the sudden jolt, Theresa, who was leaning back in the back seat with her eyes closed, opened them and, as expected, saw only desolation.

I don’t know when it started, but this kind of scenery has become the majority in Kazdel. People no longer have the concept of cities, but are scattered into small villages, as if... returning to the ancient and ignorant era.

In reality, they are probably quite similar.

Because most villages do not have modern industrial products.

"No, Your Highness, it's just an old battlefield."

Ascalon slowed down slightly to make the car more stable, and the entire convoy slowed down a bit as well.

Occasionally, one can see some weapons exposed on the ground in the surrounding soil, as well as some debris and bones... Mercenaries who die in the wild, no one will collect their bodies. Such a scene is not uncommon in Kazdel nowadays. Upon closer inspection, what is in front of you may only be a small, insignificant part.

The scavengers living in the wilderness loved these old battlefields; they could find many useful things there to make a living. But Ascalon didn't care about those things; she just wanted her prince to be more comfortable.

After all, any scavenger with a modicum of sense wouldn't provoke a heavily guarded convoy.

"Let's drive faster, don't worry about me."

Sensing the car slowing down, Theresa shook her head slightly. The desolation of the old battlefield, along with the rolling dark clouds on the distant horizon, was reflected in her eyes, like the end of the world.

Clearly, today is not a good day for going out.

A storm is coming.

----------------

Ding!

Amidst the smoke and dust, a spark ignited as sword sheaths and staffs clashed and grazed each other. The pardoners, who should have been on the same side, now faced each other with their weapons drawn.

"Stop here."

The black cloak, which looked somewhat worn compared to his colleagues, fluttered gently in the breeze brought by the aftershocks of the fight. The pardoner, who was only wearing half a gold mask, gave a low warning.

Unlike her colleagues who hid themselves well, she dressed more simply, without many small decorations. Even her mask was only half-finished, and her tattered cloak could not hide her stunning figure. Her slightly golden white hair hung down from under the hood, clinging to her clothes.

A slender black longsword lay horizontally before her, the female pardoner's hands gripping the hilt and scabbard, poised to draw her sword. An invisible pressure emanated from her, and the surrounding air seemed to glow with faint light.

"Why are you stopping me, my compatriots?"

The pardoner, holding the staff, took a few steps back without making a sound, trying to appear more composed.

"The past is the past. The Sarkaz need a new future. You should make the right choice."

"Your so-called 'right' means helping a despicable usurper to attack the rightful king of Kazdel?"

click!

The scabbard was pulled outwards with a barely perceptible gap, from which a bright white light spilled out.

Such overstepping of authority is unforgivable.

"But you only have yourself; you can't stop all of us."

The pardoner continued to retreat, and shadows emerged from beneath his feet, solidifying into some kind of gelatinous substance that crawled on the ground like asphalt.

“Outcast, rebel, there will be no place for you among the Pardoners.”

"I've heard of your name, the sword that cleaves dawn and dusk? Ha..."

The dark purple magical constructs wriggled and gathered into a grotesque beast whose specific form was indistinguishable, shrouding the absolutist in shadow. Where the eyes appeared to be, two points of red light suddenly lit up.