Chapter 154: Chapter 152: Coup D’état (2)
Blaze finished seeing through the kid’s memories. He was impressed by the cult for their dedication to the foolish lord of theirs.
No, I should thank this boy. I got lucky that they were following this fool.
He knew if such powers had ended in the hands of someone like Neha, then he’d be killed more times than he could count.
The boy didn’t cultivate his traits and abilities carefully. This class was wasted on him. It wasn’t a wonder the Collective had to guide him through everything.
However, thanks to his incompetence, Blaze could now control the cult.
That is, if I can make it through the two-factor authentication setup they had going.
Blaze shook his head, looking around the room. With a swing of his hand, he shoved the corpses inside his domain before unlocking the doors.
The two prophets had been standing there, waiting eagerly. One of them looked frail, with wrinkles covering every visible inch of his skin. The other was considerably younger, thirty years old at most.
The two of them were flanked by over two dozen guards dressed in ceremonial armor. Each of them wielded a special weapon, capable of slaying both the living and the undead.
"Get the seer," Blaze instructed before walking back inside.
The seer was already there. He walked inside, and the doors were closed again.
"Prepare to attack," the older prophet instructed.
The soldiers, also known as the first hand, prepared themselves.
The prophets had gone against the boy’s command and set up a secret signal with the seer. They wouldn’t trust the seer’s words as the cult knew there were humans working with Blaze.
Unlike them, they weren’t working with a human within a zombie’s body. Which meant they either had been possessed by Blaze, or he was controlling them some other way.
If the seer did not give the right signal, they would destroy everyone in the room.
"We’re going overboard," the younger prophet remarked.
"A little precaution has never hurt anyone."
After a grueling five minutes, the doors opened again. The seer walked out and, with a smile, called for the antidote to be brought.
However, no one moved. They were waiting for the prophets to confirm.
"Bring the vial," the older prophet said, staring at the seer’s thumbs.
"At once!"
While the soldiers left, the prophets rushed inside the hall. Neither of them noticed the seer’s crimson eyes watching them leave.
As the prophets entered the chamber, they immediately noticed signs of a struggle all over the place.
What happened here?
The older prophet thought upon seeing the broken stone pillar and splashes of blood. The other prophet noticed it as well. For a moment, they thought the ritual had failed, but Blaze’s childlike laugh put them at ease.
"Tsk, cowards," he said, waving his tendrils in a silly manner. "Though I don’t blame you. This body is quite intimidating."
"It’s good to see you adapting to it so soon, Your Holiness..." The older prophet said, immediately falling to his knees. "I was merely taken aback by the state of the room—"
"Ah, don’t worry about it. I got too excited testing this body’s capabilities."
"Do you find it satisfying, my lord?" the younger prophet asked.
"Of course! This fool even had a storage space," Blaze replied. "I stored my original body in there. Although I had to break a few bones to force it inside the space."
Before they could discuss things further, there was a knock on the door. The younger prophet rushed to the door before returning with a vial in hand.
Instead of taking the vial, Blaze extended Necrophage towards the prophet.
"Your Holiness...?"
"Don’t make me say the obvious."
The prophet nodded and gently poured the antidote onto the arm. The prophets covered their mouths as a white mist gushed out of Necrophage.
The toxin targeting the undead arm was harmful to the humans once it was ’detoxified’. The white mist was deadly to the prophets. That’s why the prophet had been hesitant to do it.
Blaze, on the other hand, admired the rising smoke. He even used his hand to take it all in as if he were testing a perfume.
"Beautiful," he said. "I haven’t smelled anything like this before."
The prophets’ eyes went wide.
Haven’t smelled anything like it? You were the one who got the toxin. Unless...
They realized what was going on.
No, Blaze ensured they knew what was going on. He had already seen in the boy’s memories that they had obtained the toxin from inside a portal.
"It smells so wonderful. It makes me wonder why I’m the only one enjoying this smell?"
"Argh!"
In the blink of an eye, Blaze severed the young prophet’s arm. The arm covering his mouth fell to the ground with a thud. But instead of panicking, the young prophet pushed the other away.
"Leave! I’ll keep him occupied!"
The young prophet lunged at Blaze, knowing he would die from the toxin. Meanwhile, the older prophet ran towards the gates. They had to eliminate the zombie before it was too late.
Unfortunately, they had lost the moment they stepped inside the chamber.
"Keep me busy? Aren’t you being too optimistic?"
Blaze scoffed, plunging Necrophage into the prophet’s chest and ripping his heart out, before tossing him towards the other prophet.
"Ugh!"
The older guy was hit by the body and fell to the ground.
"My aim is flawless, as usual," Blaze smirked as his tendrils moved towards the remaining prophet.
The prophet kept crawling towards the gate. He even managed to open it, only to see the seer standing there. The guards were nowhere to be seen.
"W-Where are they? Where are the guards!?"
The seer let out a horrifying laugh, squatting down to the prophet’s eye level.
"They deserved a break," he laughed. "And so do you."
"W-What? HELP! Someone—"
The prophet tried clawing his way out, but a meaty tendril wrapped around his head, tugging him backwards!
"NO!" the prophet screamed, digging his nails into the wooden door.
However, his resistance forced more tendrils to latch onto him.
"SAVE ME!!!"
His nails broke away, leaving bloody streaks on the door as he was pulled inside. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving only screams of pain behind.
"Long live Lord Blaze..." The seer bowed in reverence, still laughing.