Chapter 183: The Rot Of Ragon City
Chapter 183 of "Galaxy Fall: All My Skills Are Maxed" opens with suspenseful action: While the Dragon Empire’s capital basked in light and order, Ragon City had long been... Keep going!
While the Dragon Empire’s capital basked in light and order, Ragon City had long been festering in the shadows. With the Vanguard’s delayed arrival and Xavier Ironfist’s recent departure, the city’s political infrastructure had completely collapsed into depravity.
Inside the opulent, heavily warded hall of the ruling estate, the air was thick with the scent of expensive incense and raw, metallic fear. The Duke, a fat man with a plump belly was kneeling on the ground, his head bowed, facing a dark corner in the room. His luxurious silk garments were soaked in cold sweat, his political authority rendered entirely meaningless before the true power that now controlled his city.
"What next Master? Have you gotten all the parts needed?" He asked, his head bowed, forehead touching the ground in a display of pathetic subjugation.
The shadows in the corner seemed to detach from the wall. A figure in black cloak, with a skull engraved on its back stepped out of the shadow, his face completely enclosed with darkness. The skull insignia was the undeniable mark of the Devil Cult, and the unnatural, void-like darkness obscuring his features was a high-tier stealth skill, radiating an aura of pure malice.
"We need one more heart... Can you get that for us." He asked, staring at the Duke. His voice didn’t echo; it seemed to absorb the sound in the room, flat and demanding. The Cult’s rituals for mass destruction required specific, macabre catalysts.
"One more heart?! Of course, I can get that for the Lord!! You just have to order me!" He said, trembling violently, eager to sacrifice anyone in his domain to maintain his own miserable life.
"Oh? That’s so nice of you, but we don’t need a random heart. We need one from your family; I am sure your 20 years old daughter’s, will suffice."
"This?"
The Duke looked up at him in shock, his multiple chins quivering. To the Cult, bloodlines carried specific energy resonances, and a direct descendant of the city’s ruler was a potent reagent:
"But my lord, I have only one daughter, you can have any of my sons’ hearts, please, not my daughter." He pleaded, bowing his head continuously, willing to slaughter his male heirs without a second thought.
The Cultist let out a cold, mocking sound. "You don’t even bat an eye for your sons, but you’re begging like a pig for your daughter, is it because of your special relationship? Well, you’re the one who deflowered her in the first place... You’re truly a wild one." The man said, standing in front of the kneeling duke. The sheer, unadulterated rot of the Duke’s soul was disgusting even to a monster of the Cult.
"Even if you’re having sex with your daughter, you can still part with her... It’s not like she is the only young lady in this whole city, or is there something special about her that you can’t resist?" He asked, tilting his hooded head to the side, morbidly curious about the depths of human depravity.
The Duke swallowed hard, his mind racing to justify his sick obsession. ’There is nothing special, just... She knows how to please a man... Maybe please only me, because her beauty didn’t even affect that young master from the capital, anyway. I still can’t let the Lord kill my daughter, she is my toy, and I can’t give her away.’ He thought, briefly recalling how Xavier Ironfist had looked at his family with thinly veiled disgust before leaving the city. The Duke stared at the man’s dark boots:
"She is just an ordinary human without any spirit energy, but she knows how to take care of me... Please, spare her, I will do anything you ask." He said.
The figure stared at him for a moment, the void where his face should be seeming to calculate the variables, and exhaled: "Ok then... I will let her go for one reason."
"What is it. Please... What is it?" He asked, desperately looking up at the figure.
But the moment he saw the face filled with darkness, a terrifying psychic backlash occurred. The Cultist’s passive aura flared, and an invisible, crushing force smashed straight into his head.
"Ahhh!!" The Duke screamed in blinding pain, as blood flow out from his wide open eyes, the pressure bursting the capillaries in his face.
"Duke, Duke, Duke... You’re always this foolish, anyway, what you have to do is very simple..." The figure turned, backing him, staring at the heavy oak door.
"I need two of your virgin wives, the ones you just married. I also need two of your sons, and the heart of ten 5 years old children. Can you complete this simple task?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at the trembling Duke. The psychic pressure released, and the blood had stopped flowing from the Duke’s eyes, leaving him gasping on the rug.
Without hesitation, the Duke’s survival instinct and sheer selfishness overrode his pain. "Yes! Yes my Lord!! I can give them to you!" He yelled.
’I will rather lose those two young girls than my daughter... Those boys? Well, I have enough of them. The heart also won’t be difficult to get.’ He thought, callously weighing the lives of his household, nodding his head, dried blood on his cheeks.
"Good... You have five hours to arrange all of this, If you can’t manage this, I will personally come and pull out you daughter’s heart before your very eyes." He turned towards the Duke, and walked towards him, his black cloak absorbing the light.
"Rise." He ordered.
The Duke slowly forced himself up on, staring fixedly at the man’s feet, not daring to look up at his face again.
"In five hours, my Lord, as long you spare my daughter, I can get you these things in three hours." He said, a small, twisted smile forming on his face despite the pain.
’My toy, prepare yourself, you’ll have to serve me harder than before.’ He thought, as drool flowed from the side of his lips, already imagining his next depraved plan with his toy to celebrate his survival.
BAM!!!
The Duke froze. The air in the room violently displaced. He looked down, staring at the black-gloved hand sticking directly into his chest in pure horror. The Cultist had moved faster than the eye could track, bypassing all physical defenses. The Duke vomited a mouthful of dark blood, utterly confused by the sudden execution.
"My Lord, why... I have... I have served you wholeheartedly." He stammered, his life force rapidly draining as blood flowed from of his mouth.
"I am also sad for doing this, Duke... But it seems our time is running short." The Cultist whispered coldly. The ritual had to be completed now. He pulled out his hand, bringing out the Duke’s heart in a shower of crimson.