Chapter 285: The Grand Shaman’s Final Order

Max’s body trembled violently, his muscles convulsing beneath the tremendous strain, yet the ancient voice continued speaking through his lips without the slightest difficulty, as though it remained entirely unaffected by the suffering of its vessel.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open, the crimson radiance completely consuming his dark pupils until nothing of their original color remained. The unnatural glow intensified with every passing moment, becoming so overwhelming that those unfortunate enough to meet his gaze froze where they stood, their hands still gripping whatever they had been holding out of sheer instinct, while their consciousness seemed to have been stripped away.

From the side, they almost appeared hypnotized, their vacant eyes staring toward Max, completely unaware of the destruction unfolding around them.

"Don’t look into his eyes! Lower your gazes to the ground!" the old shaman barked, her voice carrying across the village despite the howling winds.

She herself continued staring directly into those crimson eyes, somehow resisting the strange influence that had robbed the others of their consciousness. Yet her frail body shivered like a leaf caught in a storm, and her already pale face grew even more dreadful as she began to understand what was happening.

"I can’t believe it..." she muttered, her eyes widening. "I’ve never seen an ancient god possess someone to such an extent. It can only mean that their bodies are compatible... This is bad, very bad. I was wrong, terribly wrong in my judgment..."

Her hair danced wildly in the wind, growing thinner as individual strands began transforming into crimson threads that separated from her scalp and rushed toward the towering crimson totem beside the white one. The old woman’s appearance deteriorated with every passing moment, while the crimson pillar flickered occasionally, struggling to maintain its towering form.

"If this continues, the god will eventually take over his body, and then... even if we’re fortunate, we’ll all die. But the worst possibility..."

She left the sentence unfinished, her expression revealing a fear far greater than the prospect of death itself. Whatever terrible outcome she had imagined, it was something she had no intention of revealing to the others.

Meanwhile, Antiope and Myrina struggled through the powerful winds threatening to sweep them off the rising land, their beast manifestations flickering around their bodies as they forced their way toward the two towering pillars. Their earlier confrontation had been forgotten for the moment, and when they finally caught sight of the Grand Shaman’s deteriorating condition, dread replaced whatever anger they still harbored toward one another.

"Grand Shaman!" they cried out almost simultaneously.

The old woman’s gaze shifted toward them, and a faint smile appeared upon her wrinkled lips.

"Children, the god is raging, and it seems that even Totemic Chaos can no longer contain its wrath. You must flee... Take the others and leave this place while you still can."

Her voice had grown faint, each word requiring more effort than the last. Beside her, Arana wept uncontrollably, her small body barely able to withstand the violent winds as she clung desperately to the old woman’s robes.

"We’re not leaving you! This is our home, and even the gods can’t—" Antiope roared, her green manifestation flaring around her as she stepped forward.

"You wish to be the leader, so act like one!"

The Grand Shaman’s furious voice cut through her protest, startling both sisters into silence. Her fading eyes burned with anger as she stared directly at Antiope, and despite the terrible weakness consuming her body, there was enough authority in that single command to make the younger woman hesitate.

While Antiope stood frozen beneath the Grand Shaman’s furious gaze, Myrina finally turned her attention toward the towering pillar of white mist. Through the swirling haze, she could barely make out a familiar figure suspended high above the ground, his body struggling against the overwhelming power gathering around him.

She gasped.

"Is that... is that the foreigner?"

Her eyes settled upon Max, whose once dark pupils had turned completely crimson, shining with such terrifying intensity that even the thick mist struggled to conceal them. His body was slowly breaking apart under the pressure, with deep cracks and tears appearing across his skin, allowing blood to seep through and stain what little remained of his clothing. Even from where she stood, Myrina could see his muscles convulsing and his arms straining against the ropes as the ancient god’s rage continued tearing through him.

For a brief moment, her vision grew hazy, and she felt her consciousness slipping away.

"Don’t look into his eyes!" the Grand Shaman roared once more, forcing Myrina to immediately lower her gaze toward Max’s bloodied body.

Antiope followed her sister’s gaze, carefully avoiding the foreigner’s eyes, and for the first time, she saw the true extent of his suffering. His body was barely holding together, yet somehow he remained alive, enduring a power that would have already reduced most of their warriors to nothing.

"Is he... is he taking all of that upon himself for us?"

The realization unsettled Antiope more than she cared to admit. A large part of her still regarded the foreigner’s suffering as a necessary sacrifice, for if someone had to endure the ancient god’s wrath, she would much rather it be him than anyone belonging to her tribe.

Throughout her life, she had rarely found herself in a position where she needed to thank anyone, let alone a stranger she had considered little more than an inconvenience. Yet as she watched his blood trickle down the wooden structure, she found herself unable to take any satisfaction in his suffering.

She had always believed that strength determined one’s worth, that those who lacked it would inevitably become sacrifices for those capable of surviving. By that reasoning, there should have been nothing troubling about the scene before her, and yet she couldn’t quite shake the uncomfortable feeling growing within her.

For the first time, Antiope wasn’t entirely certain whether what she felt was satisfaction, gratitude, or something she had never needed to confront before.

"He will die today, and so will I," the Grand Shaman declared, her weakening voice bringing both sisters’ attention back to her. "Therefore, the two of you must put aside your differences, lead our people away from this place, and find the ancient gliders. That’s my final order as your Grand Shaman..."