As the sound of prayers echoed, the once-violent hail gradually weakened until it stopped completely, leaving only devastation across the ground.
The blood-stained water also began to return to normal. That nauseating crimson slowly faded, replaced by a stream of clear water.
The river became transparent once more. People rushed toward the banks, scooping up the clean water with their hands, as if nothing had ever happened.
"It's the gods! They have not abandoned us!!!"
The crowd began to cheer. Many wept openly, falling to their knees, praising the Egyptian gods, showering them with gratitude and loyalty.
It was foreseeable that the followers of the Egyptian gods would multiply, for they had just witnessed a miracle.
In their eyes, this was divine favor and protection—the light of hope in the depths of despair.
However, in Wes Elwin's view, things were not so simple.
The Egyptian gods must have been hindered by something; otherwise, such a catastrophe would not have ended so quickly.
"Their influence on the mortal world is weakening. They had no choice but to put on this little performance." He understood that this so-called disaster and salvation was merely a ploy by the gods to maintain their authority.
Their power was likely in decline, and they needed such displays to rekindle faith and secure their place in the human world.
---
At this moment, Imhotep had silently slipped into Evelyn's room. His eyes were fixed on the woman who had awakened him from his long slumber.
To Imhotep, she was undoubtedly the perfect vessel for Anck-su-Namun's resurrection. Having already devoured four Americans, he was now only one step away from full restoration.
Just as he thought his plan was about to succeed, Wes's voice shattered the night's stillness.
"You won't succeed."
He stood in the doorway, wand in hand, calmly watching Imhotep.
"Wizard!" Imhotep spun around, glaring at Wes. "You again! Have you come to stop me?"
Wes flicked his body into motion and dropped onto the room's sofa. He didn't answer Imhotep's question—he only watched him quietly.
Imhotep was enraged by Wes's dismissive attitude and was about to strike when O'Connell burst into the room with his companions.
Each of them gripped their weapons tightly, ready to face whatever might come.
Evelyn, startled awake by the sudden commotion, looked up to see Imhotep looming over her bed. She cried out in fear, leaping to the floor and rushing behind O'Connell in a panic.
The men at the door saw Wes standing off against Imhotep and dared not act rashly. The tension in the room was unbearable.
When Imhotep saw the last American appear, a new plan formed in his mind. If he could devour this one, his resurrection would be complete, and his long-held wish fulfilled.
He raised his hands, and in an instant, golden sand burst forth, swirling wildly inside the room. It gathered into a miniature sandstorm, howling with a terrifying roar.
Furniture was sucked into the vortex and shattered, fragments flying in every direction. Chaos consumed the room.
The storm surged straight toward the American, intent on swallowing him whole.
"Meow!!"
A white cat suddenly appeared in the room, though no one knew when it had gotten there.
The little cat was extremely cute, lightly leaping onto the piano—but in Imhotep's eyes, it was terrifying.
Imhotep seemed to harbor an immense fear of the cat, immediately dissolving into a swirl of yellow wind and escaping out the open window.
The whirlpool of yellow sand inside the room vanished instantly, and Imhotep's figure disappeared with it.
Wes immediately cast a Levitation Charm and followed.
His figure floated swiftly through the air like a feather, chasing after Imhotep's trail.
Seeing both of them gone, O'Connell quickly urged everyone else out of the eerie place.
"Let's go, it's not safe here!"
Above Cairo's night sky, Wes and Imhotep engaged in a breathtaking chase.
Wes pursued closely, chanting spell after spell in an attempt to disrupt Imhotep's path. Imhotep, relying on his speed, continuously changed direction to shake off Wes.
Suddenly, Imhotep stopped atop the spire of a temple, loudly reciting an incantation. Nearby, the river churned under his magic, rising into towering waves as if to engulf Wes.
Wes reacted at once, his wand firing a dazzling blue beam that pierced the night like a blade.
The moment it touched the river, the light froze the water into a magnificent ice wall.
The crystalline wall gleamed coldly, halting the raging torrent.
"Didn't think you had some skill after all," Imhotep sneered.
Wes gave no reply. Instead, he continued chanting—black orbs formed under his command, streaking toward Imhotep like meteors.
Each orb carved a dark trail across the sky, moving at incredible speed.
Imhotep instantly summoned a swarm of locusts.
The mass of insects swarmed across the sky in a black cloud, nearly blotting out the moonlight.
As the orbs neared, they exploded. Boom! Boom! Bursts of fire erupted, the blasts incinerating vast swathes of the locusts, which fell like burning ash.
Wes's wand spun continuously, conjuring knightly figures of ice.
The ice knights, clad in glistening armor and wielding frozen swords, gathered around him and charged straight at Imhotep.
But Imhotep looked prepared. With a sweep of both hands, he unleashed a violent gale.
The storm howled, flinging the knights skyward before slamming them down with bone-shattering force.
They shattered mid-air, scattering into fragments that struck the ground with sharp cracks, bursting into a shower of icy crystals.
At the same time, the temple beneath Imhotep's feet began to turn to sand. Grains poured up through cracks in the floor, consuming the structure entirely.
The monks within were also swallowed by the yellow sand, their bodies withering into husks—skin shriveled, muscles gone, leaving nothing but brittle skin stretched over bone.
They staggered forth from the temple, hollow-eyed, moving like corpses. Imhotep had turned them into his soldiers.
Wes retaliated immediately.
Dark flames surged at his command, roaring like demons as they consumed both sand and corpses, reducing them to ash.
The fire writhed like it was alive, forming into enormous flaming eagles.
With a piercing cry, the eagles swooped down at terrifying speed, diving straight at Imhotep.
°°°
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