EFB Chapter 88 Advanced Preparations
Chapter 88 Advanced Preparations
Chapter 87 Advanced Preparations
Victor turned around abruptly.
Upon seeing that it was Lorraine, he immediately disregarded his sweat, strode over, and knelt on one knee, his heavy knee slamming into the ground with a dull thud.
"My lord! When did you arrive?"
"Just arrived, and I've already seen a good show."
Lorraine stepped forward and patted Victor's wet shoulder.
"Stand up and speak."
"It seems this knight's monastery suits you even better than I imagined."
"You are very hardworking, and I am very satisfied. Even with a divine artifact like the Knight's Monastery, it would be impossible to advance your rank without diligent training."
Victor stood up, grabbed a towel and wiped his face haphazardly. His eyes, which usually held a hint of vicissitude and sophistication, were now filled with an uncontrollable fervor.
"My lord, this is not just appropriate—it's practically a miracle."
He turned around, pointing to the glowing runic pathways on the monastery walls, his voice trembling with excitement.
"I've spent half my life in the knightly circle. In Frostwolf City, those noble lords value breathing techniques more than their own lives."
"A mere incomplete third-level breathing technique is enough to make their knights tear each other apart like dogs."
"So-called chivalry, ha!"
Victor took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself down.
"I have practiced the 'Immovable Rock' for thirty years."
"I always thought it was because I lacked talent, stuck at the second tier for decades without making any progress. Until you built this monastery for me—"
He patted his chest, making a dull thud.
"The 'Heroic Spirit Projection' here pointed out seventeen errors after I practiced it just once."
"Seventeen places! My old training method was like slow suicide! If it weren't for your monastery, I would never have reached the threshold of the third level, even if I trained until I vomited blood."
At this point, this tough man's eyes actually turned a little red.
For a knight, the destruction of the road is more despairing than the loss of his life.
What Lorraine gave him was not just resources, but also the opportunity to rekindle the broken road.
"But nowadays, it's not just about correcting mistakes."
Victor clenched his fist, feeling the power surging within him.
"In the past few days, the monastery has automatically updated the Unbreakable Rock Secret Technique into a new breathing method based on my physical condition: Immovable Barrier."
"Sir, do you know what this means?"
He lowered his voice, as if afraid of disturbing the gods.
"Tailor-made. Outside, only the eldest son of a grand duke or the heir to the throne are qualified to have a legendary expert tailor-make their breathing technique."
"This kind of treatment—even nobles of the earl level have never received it."
Lorraine nodded slightly, showing little surprise.
It would be strange if a building produced by "The Witch's Codex" didn't even have this basic function.
He looked at Victor and got straight to the point.
"That last sword strike, I noticed you held back a bit. Do you feel like your body can no longer contain your current battle energy?"
Victor paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously with a wry smile.
"Nothing can escape your eyes."
He gripped the hilt of the Wolf King Greatsword beside him again, his eyes sharpening.
"This sword is a fourth-tier divine weapon, and the extreme cold and tearing rules contained within it are too strong."
Although I'm currently at the peak of the third tier, every time I swing it, it feels like a child swinging a sledgehammer—not only is it strenuous, but also—I always fall short.
"But I've already grasped the crucial fourth level."
Victor raised his head, staring intently at Lorraine, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"My lord, I originally planned to tell you in a couple of days. But I feel—I can't hold it in any longer."
"These past few days in the monastery's magic pressure chamber, I feel like my bones and internal organs have been strengthened to their limits. Those thousand sword swings just now were the final push."
Victor suddenly knelt down on one knee again, this time bowing his head deeply and speaking with a strong and resounding voice.
"Sir! I would like to request a day off!"
"No need to wait until tomorrow, tonight! I want to use the monastery to break through the barrier of a fourth-tier Grand Knight!"
"If it succeeds, I will be the sharpest sword in your hand, even if it's the Winter of Blades—I can still cleave Haji in two even if he's resurrected!"
"If we lose—"
Victor gritted his teeth. "In the Tower of Babel, there are no cowards who fail, only the souls of those who die in battle. If I can't even overcome this hurdle, I have no face to wield this Wolf King Sword anymore."
Lorraine looked at the man kneeling in front of her.
In the omniscient view, on Victor's data panel, the value representing the "breakthrough probability" is slowly jumping from 60% to 80%.
This is not just about accumulating data, but a qualitative change in belief.
There is no barrier that a knight with the will to die, faith, and top-tier resources cannot break through.
"Granted."
Lorraine's voice was calm and crisp.
He pulled out a crystal emitting a deep blue halo from his pocket. It was a fourth-tier magic core that he had dug out from Blade Winter and had kept it without using it.
Just toss it around.
Victor instinctively raised his hand to catch it, and his expression changed drastically when he felt the heavy, mountain-like magical energy emanating from his palm.
"My lord, this—"
"Relying solely on the magic naturally accumulated by the Knight's Monastery to break through is too slow."
Lorraine turned and walked away, waving her hand behind Victor's back.
"If you're going to charge in, then charge in with all your might. Crush this stuff and suck it up. With the monastery's blessing, if you still can't make it, I'll have Anna roast you and feed you to the wolves."
"besides."
Lorraine walked to the door, paused, turned her head, and looked cold.
"Don't be content with just being at the fourth rank. Victor, you didn't dare to dream before, but now that you're by my side, you'd better think bigger."
"As long as you can break through to the fourth level, I can upgrade this Knight Monastery for you and help you obtain a Knight Breathing Technique of the fourth level or higher."
"This is the price of following me. You have to work your butt off to become stronger in order to keep up with me."
Victor gripped the magic core tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He watched Lorraine's departing figure. The figure wasn't tall, but in Victor's eyes at that moment, it was more insurmountable than any towering mountain.
"Yes, sir!!!"
The roar was like thunder, making the monastery's windows rattle.
As Lorraine stepped out of the monastery, a cold wind blew in, carrying away the heat from her body.
He looked up and gazed into the distance.
That was the northern sky, overcast with dark clouds, and one could vaguely sense two enormous forces slowly but steadily approaching.
The other two generals under the Winter Lord Mo.
There are at most three days left; time is running out.
If Ohm's mechanical army was the guarantee of quantity, then Victor was the decisive blade, the guarantee of quality.
Victor is currently at the peak of Tier 3. Once he breaks through to Tier 4, combined with the Wolf King Greatsword that can grow, and his "Winter's Bulwark" enchanted armor, he will be able to achieve his goal.
His dominance on the ground will undergo a qualitative leap.
At that time, the mechanical torrent will be responsible for the sweeping advance, while Victor will be responsible for the decapitation.
This is what you call a feast for the eyes.
"Young Master!"
A crisp voice interrupted Lorraine's thoughts.
Lyra was standing under a streetlamp not far away, holding a thermal lunchbox in her hands. When she saw Lorraine come out, she immediately ran up to greet her.
She was no longer timid at all. She was wearing an exquisite black gothic dress.
It was made for her by Olivia using the finest silk, and its black and gold heterochromatic eyes shimmered with a mysterious luster in the night.
"Why are you still wandering around outside at this hour?" Lorraine glanced at her nose, which was red from the cold.
"I just delivered food to Uncle Victor. I didn't expect you to come too. I'll wait for you outside."
Leila hugged the lunchbox to her chest and smiled a little embarrassedly. "Uncle Victor has been training too hard lately. Sister Anna was worried that he would ruin his health, so she specially asked me to bring over some high-calorie meat soup."
"He doesn't have time for soup now."
Lorraine chuckled. "I bet he's busy shedding his skin right now."
Layla blinked, a glint of gold flashing in her black pupils.
As a witch of fate, she was most sensitive to this change in aura.
"Uncle Victor's luck—is turning red," Lyra whispered. "That's the color of great fortune. Red as fire, frighteningly bright."
"Oh?" Lorraine became interested. "Even you say so, it seems like we've got this in the bag."
Leila tilted her head, as if suddenly remembering something, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a gold coin.
Those were "lucky coins" that she had created using her own magic.
"Although Uncle Victor will definitely succeed, since this is such a joyous occasion, let's give it a final push."
She held the coin in her hand and flicked it gently in the direction of the monastery.
"bite""
The coin traced a beautiful golden parabola in the air, but instead of landing, it transformed into specks of golden light and merged into the monastery wall the instant it touched it.
next second.
Suddenly, an even more intense surge of energy erupted within the monastery—a resonance resulting from the combined effects of the earth's pulse and this mystical good fortune.
Lorraine raised an eyebrow.
This isn't adding fuel to the fire; it's practically pouring a bucket of gasoline into a frying pan.
"Let's go."
Lorraine was in a great mood and reached out to ruffle Lyra's hair, messing up her carefully styled hair.
"Go back to sleep. Tomorrow morning, we'll have a freshly trained fourth-tier Grand Knight."
"Young Master! Your hair!"
Leila protested, covering her head, but followed with light steps.
The night wind swirls the white snow, gradually burying the footprints left by the moving city.
Deep within that secluded monastery, a storm of transformation and rebirth is silently brewing until its climax.
The knight's sword has been sharpened.
It awaits the moment to draw its sword and drink blood.
On an ice field 300 kilometers away from the Tower of Babel late at night.
Two figures moved slowly forward in the knee-deep snow.
On the left is a man wearing a tattered gray robe. Under the hood, a pale face is visible, with sunken eyes that have no whites and only two flickering eerie green flames.
With each step he took, the surrounding air emitted a piercing shriek like fingernails scraping glass, and the snow on the ground inexplicably twisted into painful human faces.
This is Serlins, a fourth-tier monster under the command of the Winter Lord, known as "Winter of Fear".
The man on the right was completely different. He was entirely encased in thick black plate armor, making not a sound.
It wasn't just the sound of footsteps; even the sound of the wind hitting his armor and the sound of snowflakes falling on his shoulders vanished the instant they made contact.
Wherever he went, the snow left no footprints, but rather black voids. Matter was completely wiped away, even light was swallowed up.
A fourth-tier monster, "Winter of Annihilation" Mordil.
"Three more days."
Serlins stopped, stretched out his thin, withered fingers, and grabbed at the air as if grasping at an invisible fear.
His voice was sharp and hoarse, with a certain penetrating power; if an ordinary person heard it, their brain would instantly boil.
"I can smell it, in that direction—there's the scent of living people. Very faint, very fresh."
Modir didn't speak, but simply turned his head slightly, the dark void beneath his visor gazing ahead.
A trembling figure was thrown in front of the two.
That was a demon scout who had managed to escape from the Tower of Babel after the Winter of Blades' siege. He was now delirious, with bloodshot eyes, clearly having been tormented by Serlins' mental power for a long time.
"Speak," Serlins crouched down, his grotesque face almost touching the scout's nose, "What's the current situation with that little mouse named Lorraine?"
The scout convulsed, drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were unfocused.
"The city walls are only three levels high and very dilapidated."
"There's a maid who can breathe fire, and several other witches—but they can't break through the shield."
Upon hearing this, Serlins let out a strange laugh like that of an owl, the sound of which caused the surrounding ice shards to shatter.
"Listen, Modir, listen to this."
Serlins stood up, his eerie green eyes filled with mockery and cruelty.
"Only level three city walls, and a few witches who can't even break through level four shields."
"Is this where our beloved brother died in battle?"
"What a joke! That piece of trash Haji must have underestimated his opponent, fallen into some kind of alchemical trap, or tripped up and died from his own stupidity."
Modir, who had been silent all along, finally spoke.
His voice didn't sound human; it was more like two huge rocks rubbing against each other on the deep seabed—dull, oppressive, and carrying a vibration that brought everything to a deathly silence.
"cautious."
With just two words, the surrounding space distorted for a moment.
The scout kneeling on the ground didn't even have time to scream before half of his body vanished into thin air.
There was no blood, no severed limbs.
Like a light smear of an eraser on a drawing paper, the scout's upper body vanished into nothingness, leaving only half of his legs kneeling in the snow. The cut was as smooth as a mirror, presenting an eerie, deathly gray color.
This is the power of the Winter of Desolation annihilation.
Any matter that is touched by his hands or his domain will be erased at the atomic level.
"You're always so boring, Modil."
Serlins glanced disdainfully at the half-dead corpse on the ground. "It would have been better to keep him alive. I haven't had enough fun yet. His fear was delicious."
Ignoring his companions' complaints, Modir continued southward with heavy steps.
"Mission: Kill Lorraine. Bring back the body. Present yourself to the monarch."
"I know, I know."
Serlins waved his hand impatiently and followed. "I really don't know why the monarch sent both of us. I could drive all these country lords mad with a single breath and make them kill each other."
"What kind of expression do you think Lorraine will have when she sees us?"
Serlins licked his lips, a twisted anticipation gleaming in his eyes.
"Will he kneel down and beg for mercy? Or will he, like those nobles, wet his pants and offer his woman in exchange for his life?"
""
"That maid—I heard she's a fire witch? It would be beautiful to skin her and make lanterns to hang in the monarch's palace."
.