The dull and majestic voice differed somewhat from Larrion's original voice, carrying a sense of decay that permeated the soul, and it triggered the solidified twilight that enveloped this sea area.
But soon everything disappeared, and the blazing sunlight shone down again, as Larrion, who had reverted from his mythical creature form, stood silently in mid-air, looking down at the many shipwrecks on the sea.
After an unknown amount of time, Larrion slowly raised his head, his light blue eyes looking into the distance, at the dense mist that once again obscured the sunlight, and at the countless dark brown airships approaching in a dense formation.
These airships were painted with the red, white, and yellow striped flags of Feysac!
Sensing Larrion's gaze, a flash of light, like a fusion of blood and rust, erupted from the lead airship, and the power covering the entire airship fleet rapidly converged.
A figure shrouded in dark red armor appeared silently beside Larrion, and a strong scent of rust permeated the blood-colored mist.
Awatoma Einhorn!
He was the Weather Warlock of the Feysac royal family, and also the supreme commander of the soon-to-be-established Sonia War Zone.
Awatoma coldly swept his gaze over the wreckage on the sea, then snorted and nodded to Larrion before speaking indifferently:
"It's a pity. If I hadn't been blocked by Jahn Kottman of the Church of the Lord of Storms in the Berserk Sea, perhaps the two of us could have jointly kept Nast there permanently."
Larrion turned his head to look at the Weather Warlock, shook his head calmly, and reminded him:
"Don't underestimate Nast. She might have truly found the last treasure of the Solomon Empire, and she seems to have signed some kind of contract with the elven remnants, wanting to reclaim this ancient elf island."
Speaking of this, she paused, and sighed with a somewhat inexplicable expression:
"I never expected Queen 'Calamity Queen' Cohinem to still be alive. Indeed, as the apocalypse approaches, all the fellows hidden in dark corners are starting to stir."
"Pass this news to the Church of the Lord of Storms. That Tyrant will not allow others to covet the authority of the storm."
Awatoma frowned. As an Angel who only advanced in the Fourth Epoch, he recalled the records of this ancient elf in the ancient texts he had read in the Great Twilight Hall. After a moment, he spoke in a deep voice:
"I will arrange for someone to do this, but I'm afraid the effect will be minimal. If you include the ancient elf you mentioned, this so-called Pirate Kingdom has three Angels behind it, and all of them control a ghost ship."
"Under the current circumstances, as long as they don't provoke the Church of the Lord of Storms, the Pope should condone them consuming our strength."
"Nast has already advanced to Duke of Entropy. With the Black Emperor Pathway's uniqueness, combined with Bernadette and that ancient elf, they will only be more excessive than today. With the ghost ships, they can even ambush the Church and the fleet at any time."
"If that's truly the case, with our abilities, we can only be exhausted and even unable to restrict their escape."
Larrion listened with an indifferent expression, but the increasingly terrifying aura of decay that emanated from him revealed that the chief Shepherd's inner emotions were not as calm as his face suggested:
"I never expected that the insignificant fellow from back then has now become a major problem that is difficult to shake off. You should be aware of Our Lord's oracle; our time is running out."
"Before declaring war on Loen, these hidden dangers must be eradicated!"
"You've said so much just now; you must already have an idea in your mind. Don't have any reservations; you can speak it directly."
Compared to himself, who preferred to solve problems directly with force, Larrion believed that Awatoma, as a high-level Hunter whose prior Pathway was Conspirer, was more skilled at hunting.
As soon as his words fell, a mass of orange-red twilight emerged from Larrion's body, enveloping their figures and isolating them from the outside world.
Awatoma glanced at the solidified orange-red around him, his eyes flickered, and he said in a low voice:
"A high-level Arbiter Pathway can help us turn the tide, so we can have two directions."
"One is to ask the Castiya family's member to act, but this might require the Church to step forward and negotiate with the Church of the Earth Mother..."
Larrion pondered for a moment, then slowly shook his head:
"That Hand of Order was injured by the God of Knowledge and Wisdom during the Battle of the Violated Oath, and her current condition is unknown. Even if the Church of the Earth Mother is willing to provide assistance and persuade her to act, the price we would have to pay would not be small."
Having anticipated this outcome, Awatoma nodded slightly and continued to add:
"The other method is to activate the Trunsoest Brass Book!"
Upon hearing this name, Larrion refused without even thinking:
"Once that Brass Book is released from the seal of the Great Twilight Hall, it will constantly vitalize. The risk is too great. If it gets out of control, only Our Lord's descent can seal it again."
This time, Awatoma did not back down, looking directly into Larrion's eyes, his tone becoming much heavier:
"But hasn't the Church already found a way to exploit that Brass Book appropriately?"
"Although I don't like that fellow Roselle, what he said indeed makes a lot of sense: there are only a thousand days to be a thief, but no thousand days to guard against a thief. As long as we can solve those fellows once and for all, a moderate risk is worthwhile!"
Clearly, compared to expending the Einhorn family's heritage in exchange for the help of a Hand of Order, Awatoma was more inclined to incite the Church, which initiated this war, to pay more.
Sensing the Weather Warlock's firm attitude, and the Einhorn family's attitude reflected behind it, Larrion suppressed his fiery temper and said coldly:
"I will first send someone to negotiate with the Church of the Earth Mother. As for the Trunsoest Brass Book, I cannot make the decision; I need to pray to God!"
-----------------
Feynapotter Kingdom, Northern Territory, Seran, Governor's Mansion.
"The Strongest Hunter of the Fog Sea," Anderson, lay lazily on the lawn, staring blankly at the crimson full moon in the sky. It had been several months since he arrived here, and he hadn't felt any signs of war at all.
Thinking of the Pirate Kingdom that was established a while ago, Anderson even suspected that he might have offended that Duke, which was why he was exiled to this place.
"It seems you're living quite leisurely?"
A somewhat familiar voice drifted into his ears. Anderson was about to instinctively retort with a sarcastic remark when he suddenly shivered, stood up straight from the ground, and looked at Aaron, who had appeared beside him at some unknown time, with a sheepish smile, greeting him somewhat guiltily:
"Good evening, Duke!"
Aaron glanced at the sheepish Anderson, guessing what the fellow was thinking, and shook his head. With a slight lift of his palm, a dark red bone sword covered in distorted patterns and exuding a murderous aura suddenly appeared.