Chapter 1423: The Flame Sage [Part 2]

Annette’s vision blurred as she careened through the air, her body smashing through several stones and shattering them at blistering speed. Not even she could right herself in that moment. It was as though her mind and sense of balance had been dealt a crushing blow, and in a second she had traveled hundreds of meters, only coming to a stop after her body repeatedly plowed through jagged rocks scattered across the plain.

’Good stars. What in the—’

Instantly, the same overwhelming sensation washed over her again. Right before her face were crimson eyes radiating unfettered madness. Then his hands flew from behind.

But Annette did not fall for the same trick twice. An orb of flame ignited the air and covered her, scorching even the wisps of wind around her. She was certain the bastard would pull back.

However, another strike bent her side, causing her to fold like paper before she was sent flying again, rolling across the ground like a ball kicked by a titan.

She finally came to a stop as her body slammed against a wall of rock that rose sharply into a sloped canyon. She bounced off it, blood spilling from her nose and mouth. For a moment her entire body went numb. Then, in the next instant, the only thing she felt was pain.

She could feel a broken rib poking out of her skin. Several bones in her body were shattered, and muscles had ruptured from the brutal strikes. Her stomach, crushed inward from the first blow, made even standing straight an unbearable torment.

Annette bent slightly. More blood spilled from her mouth. She could barely piece together what was happening.

She now stood in a vast plain littered with jagged pale rocks. Before her, the person who had dealt with her so viciously approached at an unhurried pace. He wore ordinary clothes, though the left sleeve was burned.

’That bastard... did he burn his hand just to punch me?’

Annette was certain she had encountered the maddest sort of person — someone who punched until his hands broke. She had once watched Northern fight so fiercely that his life seemed to slip from his grasp, yet he was consumed by nothing but the sheer madness of slaughter.

She had believed that level of insanity was something only a few people could achieve. Yet now, though more restrained compared to Northern, she felt the same ominous madness from this young man.

Gathering the last of her strength, Annette raised her head and studied him. His crimson eyes carried a strangely disarming gaze, and a gentle — almost excited — smile rested on his face.

The young man stopped a few meters away and looked at her with quiet disappointment.

"Don’t die... yet. It would be sad. You’re a Sage, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be stronger than this. So please don’t go dying on me."

He smiled warmly and extended a hand toward her.

"Come. Try one more time. Surely the inhabitants of the Inlands can’t be this weak."

Annette stared silently, her entire jaw painted red with blood. Her lips slowly parted, and a faint chuckle escaped her throat before swelling into wild, bestial laughter.

"Agh, gracious stars... I don’t have you to blame. It must be my rotten luck... and Northern, yes, that brat. If I die, it’ll certainly be that brat’s fault!"

She pushed herself against the rock, leaving a bloody palm print behind as she rose to her feet. Then she lazily wiped the blood from her jaw.

The young man before her was still smiling... disturbingly.

"Is that what you people call us? Inland people?"

She held her shoulder and rolled her arm, grinning wildly.

"And you must be one of those freakishly strong Imperial Bloods, huh? Nice to meet you. They call me the Flame Sage."

Several spears of flame ignited in the air, all pointing toward the young Prince.

"I hope you don’t mind," Annette said with a faint smile.

Meanwhile, the Prince studied Annette’s flames with the curious expression of a puzzled genius.

"Those flames of yours," he said, "they seem very similar to those of the Vermillion people — what are they called again? Anyway, I know there are only a handful of people who can control flames like this, so I have to ask. Are you, by chance, a Reimgardian?"

He continued speaking with a radiant, heroic expression.

"If you’re a Reimgardian, then bound by duty, I cannot kill you..."

His face darkened eerily.

"Although it’s a different matter if you’re a deserter."

Silence swallowed the rocky plains. Only the hollow howl of the hot wind drifted through the stones.

The Prince smiled at Annette, utterly disconnected from the tension surrounding him.

"So which are you?"

Annette spread her hands and grinned maniacally.

Instantly, hundreds of flaming spears shot downward with the speed of light. The ground erupted in a deafening cacophony of cantaloupe explosions that thundered across the rocky plains.

A vast, seemingly endless dark fog spread over the land. After the incendiary roar came a chilling silence.

Through the fog, two crimson lights glowed ominously and drifted forward. The silhouette of a figure walked through the smoke and approached the woman kneeling on the ground. He stared down at her.

Most of his clothes were charred, revealing lean, sculpted muscles.

He casually tore away the burnt rags of his shirt and shook his head.

"It’s pitiful to struggle until the end... you and I are merely Sages, and yet we are separated by an abyss of strength. I heard the quality of strong men in the Inlands is lacking, but I never imagined it was this dire. Perhaps Father is making the right decision by absorbing the rest of the continent. This is truly an act of supreme mercy."

He smiled with quiet amusement.

"Father truly is boundless in mercy."

His smile faded as if it had never mattered, and a cold murderous light dawned in his eyes.

"Now... you..."

He took a casual step forward, grabbed Annette by the neck, and slowly lifted her into the air.

"I will not forgive you for daring to harm my father’s land. I will tear you apart... piece by piece, bone by bone. And teach your kind what the fear of the Empire truly means."

He spoke with cold indifference. Somehow that made it even more terrifying. Had he looked furious or enraged, Annette might have accepted his cruelty more easily. But this calm... it was far more chilling.

Despite the defiance on her face, a small knot of fear tightened in her chest, leaving her palms slick with sweat.

And then—

Annette suddenly saw the Prince’s hand vanish, leaving only a bleeding stump.

The young Prince turned pale, staggering back in stunned disbelief.

Meanwhile, Revant cheerfully tossed the severed hand into the air and caught it again, examining it with greedy interest.