The Witcher: The Journey to Transcendence from Marvel...

Chapter 82 Divine Descent

Everyone's attention was drawn to the book in Weiss's hands, and they all focused on the Golden Book of the Sun in his hands.

Imhotep's pupils suddenly contracted, revealing a deep sense of apprehension.

For him, the Book of the Sun was a symbol of the Pharaoh's power, a power bestowed by the sun god, and also the faith he had once betrayed.

He could sense the power contained within the book, a power capable of sealing him or even destroying him. He was terrified of this "Golden Book of the Sun".

Evelyn's gaze was fixed on the Book of the Sun, and an overwhelming excitement welled up inside her.

This book was the sacred object that her father had pursued throughout his life.

She remembered her father describing the book's magic countless times, saying it contained the power of the sun god and could dispel all evil.

However, when her gaze fell on Wes, her heart sank again.

Wes is no longer their friend; he is now their enemy, a powerful one.

"Give it to me." Imhotep's face was ashen as he approached Wes step by step.

"Wizard, you are not worthy to possess the Book of the Sun." Imhotep's words were full of authority and domineering, declaring his absolute ownership of the book.

"So you, a sinner who betrayed the Pharaoh and was subjected to the punishment of being devoured by worms, are qualified?"

Wes's words precisely struck a nerve with Imhotep's past, a past he didn't want to talk about, his deepest shame, a stain he could never erase.

The atmosphere between the two was extremely tense, and the tension seemed to be on the verge of erupting into a fierce conflict at any moment.

Just then, taking advantage of the standoff, O'Connor brandished his greatsword, forcefully forcing Ansuona back. He then severed Evelyn's bindings and shouted to Jonathan, "Take her away!"

Jonathan immediately helped Evelyn up, and the two quickly ran towards the exit.

Seeing that the sacrifice was about to escape, Imhotep disregarded his confrontation with Wes and used magic to construct a high wall, firmly blocking the exit.

"No one is leaving."

He slowly uttered an obscure incantation, and as he did so, a rustling sound came from all corners of the underground palace, as countless scarabs gathered there.

The scarabs, like a black tide, surrounded O'Connor and his two companions.

The three men could only try to drive away the scarabs by holding torches. There were simply too many scarabs; they were densely packed together, the encirclement was constantly shrinking, and some scarabs had even crawled onto their shoes.

"Think of something quick!" O'Connor shouted, swinging his greatsword in the air, trying to cut down some of the approaching scarabs, but the sheer number of scarabs made his efforts seem like a drop in the ocean.

"We can't just sit here and wait to die!" Jonathan's voice carried a hint of despair, but he still tried his best to remain calm.

"Boom!!" A hole was suddenly blasted in the high wall, and Amir's figure appeared in their sight.

Amir, strapped with explosives, charged into the encirclement of scarabs.

"What are you waiting for! Run!"

He lit a stick of explosives and threw it forcefully in all directions, blasting a gap in the scarab beetle encirclement.

O'Connor quickly pulled Evelyn and Jonathan along, intending to leave through the gap created by the blast.

They brushed past Amir, who then ignited all the explosives on his person and charged towards Imhotep without hesitation, intending to die with him.

Suddenly, a giant hand made of sand appeared and grabbed Amir in its palm.

Imhotep loosely clenched his right hand, but the large hand formed from sand began to clench tightly.

"Ah!!" With a bloodcurdling scream, blood began to flow from Amir's seven orifices, and his body twisted and deformed under the pressure of the large hand.

"Boom!!" The explosion blasted Amir to pieces, and the giant hand made of sand was also blown apart.

O'Connor watched helplessly as Amir was blown to pieces, his eyes bloodshot and the veins on his neck bulging like earthworms.

"No!!" he roared in grief and anger, clenching his fists, the rage in his heart almost consuming him.

"Now it's your turn."

Imhotep's body floated in mid-air as he charged toward the three of them.

Evelyn looked flustered, and Jonathan's legs were trembling so badly he could barely stand. O'Connor's head was bowed, and no one could see his expression.

A suffocating tension filled the air, as if the entire underground palace was holding its breath, waiting for the next moment.

Just as Imhotep's right hand was about to grab Evelyn, a flash of sword light appeared, its trajectory almost invisible.

"Thud!" A severed hand fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Imhotep stepped back in alarm, clutching his right arm in pain.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

The severed right arm that had fallen to the ground was charred black on its clean surface, yet not a single drop of blood flowed from it.

O'Connor looked up, her eyes white, her pupils invisible.

His hair moved without wind, and the golden greatsword in his hand ignited with golden flames, radiating a dazzling light.

"Pull!!" Imhotep stared at O'Connor in disbelief, feeling an unprecedented fear.

"It's finally here," Wes thought to himself. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

O'Connor's current situation would be called a possession by a deity in the East, or a divine intervention in the West. Even though it might just be a divine consciousness, it made Imhotep feel extremely threatened.

As for Ansuna, she knelt on the ground trembling, as if she had seen her own doom.

"Sinner." O'Connor's voice was ethereal yet authoritative, his longsword pointing at Ansuna, a golden flame shooting from its tip.

Just as the flames were about to strike Ankuru, Imhotep stepped in front of her.

He spread his arms, and the flames seemed to be stopped by an invisible barrier. The high temperature caused the air to distort, and Imhotep gritted his teeth and persevered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hmph!" O'Connor snorted coldly, clearly dissatisfied.

He began to increase the power, and the golden flames became even hotter, carrying the power to incinerate everything.

Imhotep's knees began to bend as the flames drew ever closer, scorching his arms and making a sizzling sound, but he stubbornly persevered.

Let me see the difference between myself and a 'god'!

Wes made his move. He chanted a spell, and the temperature began to drop sharply. Frost spread from the ground, and the ice began to condense into various weapons: spears, lances, and axes.

These ice blades, gleaming with a cold light under Wes's control, were aimed directly at O'Connor.

O'Connor stood still, gripping his greatsword tightly, the tip pointing towards the ground.

As the icy weapons hurtled towards him, his body was enveloped by an invisible force, forming a transparent barrier around O'Connor.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival

(End of this chapter)