Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 381: War of Annihilation 1

In the center of the Holy City stood three towering halls, forming a triangular formation and guarding each other. In the foreground stood the pure white Holy Hall, shimmering with a sacred light in the morning light; to the rear, to the left and right, stood the eerie Hall of Judgment and the solemn Hall of Discipline, respectively. The three buildings formed a perfect equilateral triangle.

The secret passage was much shorter than expected, only two or three hundred meters. While Caesars was still studying the ancient mechanism on the stone door, the fat dog, as sturdy as a bear, impatiently stood up and slammed its fat-covered body into the stone door. With a resounding bang and a shower of debris, the stone door at the end of the secret passage, engraved with defensive magic patterns, shattered. The fat dog rushed out like a dark red lightning bolt, and then a short scream was heard from outside, and it stopped abruptly.

Caesars' heart tightened as he hurried through the smoke-filled corridor. He came into view, a resplendent circular room, its ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers and its walls adorned with exquisite religious murals. On the ground lay a withered old man in a white robe, twitching violently like a fish out of water. His neck had been completely pierced by the fat dog's sharp fangs, and blood gushed from the torn artery, spreading a glaring scarlet across the gilded carpet.

"Damn it! Bread!" Caesars gasped, "You bit the new Pope of the Church of Saint Laurent to death!"

He quickly walked to the ebony clothes hanger in the corner and deftly took down the gorgeous robe embroidered with the holy emblem in gold thread. He also took off the heavy golden crown - each gem inlaid on it was enough for an ordinary family to eat for decades. As he put the scepter with the pigeon blood ruby ​​on the top into the space ring, he couldn't help but whistle.

These treasures, which were enough to make those self-proclaimed noble dukes and earls in Huofeng City fight for their money, were now collected by him casually like ordinary goods.

The fat dog was rolling frantically between the velvet bed curtains, pulling the silk quilt embroidered with gold thread to the floor and knocking over the crystal wine bottle on the bedside table. It was obvious that the Pope had not had time to enjoy the luxuries of his new residence. Caesar took the opportunity to pry open the old man's gradually stiffening fingers and took the Pope's ring, the symbol of supreme power, into his pocket.

"Bread, these silk fabrics are all priceless treasures. Every inch is woven with gold thread and embroidered with exquisite patterns! If you like them, you can take this flame maple bed with you!"

The fat dog's small, green-bean-sized eyes suddenly gleamed with greed. Its stubby claws danced swiftly, sweeping every movable object in the dormitory into the storage ring. It even tore the blood-soaked cashmere carpet with its teeth and stuffed it into the ring along with the coagulated blood.

"Bread, don't forget to take the body away!" Caesars kicked the corpse on the ground. "This is the Pope of the Church of Saint Laurent. The reward from the Roland Empire alone is a large sum of gold coins. Now, use your nose that is sharper than a hound and take me to the kitchen of the temple! I seem to be a little hungry!"

The fat dog twitched its wet nose as it sniffed around in the corridors filled with the scent of incense and blood. Caesars kicked away the silver candlesticks at his feet—he had no idea how to navigate this labyrinthine temple and could only rely on this greedy fat dog to lead the way.

A long, dark corridor stretched from the Pope's chambers, its stone walls devoid of any visible windows. Caesars stroked the damp walls, aware of this meticulously designed structure—one designed both to ensure the Pope's absolute tranquility and to prevent the patrolling guards' footsteps from disturbing his slumber. A strange odor, a mixture of blood and incense, wafted through the dry air.

The fat dog suddenly pricked up its ears and stopped, its moist nose twitching. Halfway down the corridor, its keen sense of smell detected the distinct, acidic scent of human sweat. The chubby dog ​​propped itself up on its hind legs, its stubby front paws clumsily making three hand gestures in the air. Caesars nodded in understanding, his pale fingers tracing a few dark gray runes in the air. The figures of the man and the dog gradually grew transparent, as if melting into the dim light.

The invisible fat dog crept forward, its paw pads making no sound on the stone slabs. Caesars followed at a comfortable distance, not intending to start a massacre here. But this damn corridor was even longer than he'd anticipated, with guards standing every ten meters. Given the duration of his invisibility spell, he'd likely be exposed before he even reached the end.

A sinister glint flashed in Caesar's eyes. He flicked his slender fingers, and the guards at the corner ahead suddenly covered their throats. Dark purple curse lines spread under their skin, making them unable to make any sound. The fat dog took the opportunity to pounce, and its sharp canine teeth accurately bit through the throat. Warm blood splattered on the stone wall, but Caesar used magic to wipe away the traces. Before finding the temple kitchen and storage room, they needed to move quietly and silently like shadows. The fat dog licked the bloody corner of his mouth, while Caesar listened carefully for any unusual movements that might come from the distance.

Caesars and Fatty worked in perfect harmony, advancing one after the other through the deep corridors of the temple. Caesars incessantly chanted curses in an ancient language, preventing the guards along the way from calling for help. He unleashed weakening curses that sapped vitality, his sharp canines precisely biting through the throats of each target. Starting from the Pope's luxurious chambers, they battled along the scarlet carpet, ultimately reaching the end of a long, sloping marble corridor.

"Bread, do you smell food?" Caesars asked in a low voice, his fingers gently tracing the narrow ventilation holes in the wall—holes so small that not even a child's hand could fit through them. The fat dog purred softly, its moist nose twitching constantly as it followed the scent, guiding its master through the eerie, circular corridor. This downward-sloping passage seemed endless. Not a single window adorned the cold stone walls, only flickering light and shadow cast by torches.

Guards mauled to death by the fat dog lay scattered along the path, their armor still stained with the black marks of the curse. Suddenly, the fat dog stopped before a heavy oak door and turned to let out a low, warning growl at Caesars. Only then did Caesars notice that the corridor they were walking through was gradually descending. Based on the direction, the oak door with the holy emblem carved on it should be directly below the temple's base.

The air was filled with the aroma of cooked meat, mingling with the richness of wine. A gleam flashed in Caesar's eyes, and the magic blade condensed into a faint blue arc of light in his palm. "It seems we have found the Pope's private cellar." He swung the magic blade, and the copper lock broke with a crisp sound on the ground.

The fat dog slammed the heavy wooden door open, barking like crazy, saliva dripping from the corners of its grinning mouth. Behind the door was a treasure trove of delicious food - golden cheese blocks piled up like a mountain, oak barrels of mead with amber luster, and shiny bacon hanging from the beams, with a rich salty aroma.

"Oh my god! This is actually the rum that the Solomon family has been storing for three hundred years!" Caesars bent down and picked up a dusty bottle. Through the dark brown glass, he could see the swaying liquid inside. "Even the Pope didn't have time to enjoy such a treasure!"

His eyes swept across the storage room filled with rare and exotic ingredients. Top-quality ingredients from every corner of the Roland Continent were gathered here: ice crystal caviar from the northern tundra, spice preserves from the southern islands, emerald tea from the Eastern Kingdom... It would probably take decades to collect all these rarities.

"Let's split the bread in half!" Caesars suddenly shouted, simultaneously manipulating the mage's hand to snatch barrels of fine wine from the air and quickly stuff them into the interspatial ring. Meanwhile, the fat dog had already pounced on the pile of golden cheese, digging frantically with its claws, splattering golden cheese crumbs everywhere.

Caesars carefully collected the food from the storage room, taking only about a third of it. He knew the gluttonous fat dog had an astonishing appetite; the food it consumed in a day was equivalent to his monthly rations. Bread was busy stuffing various foods into its storage ring, and its fang-filled mouth wasn't idle either, its bulging cheeks threatening to burst.

"Bread, hurry up!" Caesars urged in a low voice, his fingers tapping nervously on his staff. "The things in the temple treasury are much more valuable than these dry rations."

At that moment, a sudden, rapid alarm bell rang in the distance, and the sound of metal clashing echoed through the stone corridor. Caesar's pupils suddenly constricted—they had been discovered. The clatter of steel boots stomped in unison, and judging by the sound, at least a team of fully armed paladins were approaching, no more than a hundred meters from the storage room.

"Damn it!" Caesars cursed, quickly pulling a glowing alchemical bomb from the leather pouch at his waist. He closed his eyes, his magical perception spreading like ripples, accurately capturing the paladins' position. With a beautiful parabola, the bomb flew through the half-open door.

"boom!"

A deafening explosion echoed through the narrow corridor, filling it with rubble and smoke. Caesars knew that while he could easily handle a few paladins, surrounded by swarms of paladins in this cramped corridor, even the most formidable mage would find himself in a difficult position. The most important thing now was to buy time—either find the treasure vault or evacuate as quickly as possible.

"Bread, speed up, the whole corridor is blocked by the Paladins!"

Caesars's rapid voice echoed in the small storage room. Fat Dog Bread was now clearing out the last of his spoils with astonishing efficiency. His sturdy claws deftly stuffed the last greasy pickled sausage into his storage ring. A flash of anger flashed in his scarlet eyes—the tin cans outside were clanging closer.

"Ouch!" Bread growled angrily, his neck hair standing on end, and he was about to rush to the door. Caesars quickly grabbed his stubby tail and said, "Calm down, buddy! We're here to rob, not to run a slaughterhouse!" He quickly scanned the empty shelves in the storage room and spoke rapidly, "There are at least two teams of paladins outside. That damn corridor is more crowded than a church confessional right now."

Caesar's slender fingers traced a faint blue path through the air, and a magical beacon, shimmering with a faint purple light, landed steadily on the corner of the wall. "Listen," Caesar began chanting the lengthy incantation of teleportation, each syllable resonating with magical force. "You spray a fire dragon at the door to create chaos. Buy me fifty syllables of time. We'll use teleportation to return to camp!"

Upon hearing this, the fat dog immediately braced himself and rushed towards the door of the storage room. As he took a deep breath, his entire plump body swelled up like an inflated ball, and high-level magic patterns were faintly visible beneath his fur.

Outside, the silver-armored paladins formed an impenetrable shield wall. Their fleur-de-lis shields, forged from magic steel, gleamed coldly in the torchlight, blocking the already narrow corridor like an iron barrier. The knights in the front row had even thrust their lances through the gaps between their shields, their sharp tips pointed directly at the wooden door of the storage room.

"Now!" Caesars chanted the key part of the spell. Bread opened his bloody mouth, and a hot breath rolled in his throat.

Flames raged through the narrow corridor like a raging tide, licking every inch of space with blazing tongues of flame. Lance and magic steel shields quickly turned a brilliant red in the intense heat. Before the paladins wielding these weapons could even utter a cry, they were completely engulfed by the raging flames. Though the tightly packed shield wall behind them promptly illuminated their sacred shields, the scorching heat still forced the paladins back repeatedly. Their armor burned red, and the sweat that had just seeped out evaporated.

The fat dog shook its head in dissatisfaction, a string of sparks flew out of its nostrils, and ran back to the storage room in a huff. It had originally hoped to burn more paladins in one go, but in the end it only scorched a few in the front row.

At this moment, Caesars's lengthy spell chant finally finished. When he caught sight of the fat dog, he immediately extended his mage's hand and picked it up. As the purple light of the teleportation array suddenly lit up, the figures of man and dog instantly disappeared into the twisted air, leaving only the flames still burning in the corridor and the angry roars of the paladins.

"Bread, drag the old Pope's body to the main tent," Caesar kicked the corpse wrapped in a white robe on the ground with the tip of his boot, and the heel of his boot left a bloody mark on the ground. "I will put this papal crown on you, and your identity as Pope will be confirmed." He grinned, revealing his white teeth, and took out a crown shining with gold. The twelve rubies glowed with a bloody halo under the candlelight.

The fat dog, Bread, came sniffing closer. Caesar roughly tucked the crown behind his drooping ears, then pulled two tanned leather cords and tied a knot under the dog's head. "Listen, Bread," he said, tugging on the cords to secure them, the jewels on the crown jingling with his movements. "The crown must be brought back. It's from Master Caesar's collection. If you dare lose this treasure, I'll make foot pads out of your dog skin."

Bread suddenly pulled out a red silk holy curtain with a cross pattern embroidered with gold thread. It used its wet nose to nudge Caesars's silver-buckled belt, and a whine came from its throat.

"Ha! You want to tie your cape like me?" Caesars raised his foot as if to kick, but suddenly changed his mind when he saw the fire reflected in the dog's eyes. He bent down and grabbed the silk and tied it around the dog's neck. The smooth cloth hung down and covered half of the dog's tail. "Now you are the most ridiculous Pope in history - go!"

As the fat dog stood upright and disappeared outside the tent, dragging the Pope's body with its front paws, Caesar stroked the magic blade and imagined the surprised looks of the people in the camp.