Chapter 144: An Increasingly Raging Tide

Hydra.

A name that felt vaguely familiar.

When the name of chaos was manifested and propagated through the order of the world, Amy Ulysses could not help but slightly arch his brow.

If he remembered correctly, wasn't this the immortal monster depicted in the mythologies and legends passed down by the ancestors? A terrifying creature with nine heads and nine lives, stirring up chaos and tempests in the vast ocean?

The young man was not entirely certain.

Nor was there any time left for him to be certain.

The ultra-giant Deep One, whose sheer scale defied easy comprehension at a single glance, finally revived its frozen limbs. It paid no heed whatsoever to the attacks of the "little ants" beneath its feet, directly lowering its upper body. Scarlet pupils, each the size of a house, swept back and forth. It extended and flattened a hand with five fingers akin to those of a human, the webbing between its fingers stretching open, while its already ferocious visage twisted into an arc brimming with malice.

Then, it swung its arm.

Just like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum and sweeping away a meticulously stacked block castle, the ancient evil entity known as Hydra unleashed a hurricane with a mere wave of its arm—a gale fierce enough to blow away half of Hermetica—not to mention that arm covered in deep green scales. The primary battlefield where the Glorified clashed with the Deep Ones, the half of Hermetica shrouded in darkness, was reduced to a devastated ruin under the might of that single blow.

There was no room for resistance whatsoever; the army of the dead, which had easily routed the forces of the Deep Ones, was utterly shattered.

An enemy on an entirely different level, completely impossible to withstand, much like a natural disaster.

Having merely been caught in the aftermath, the Glorified did not suffer heavy casualties, save for a very few unlucky souls, but the psychological toll dealt to them was devastating.

For the very first time, the Glorified realized that there existed enemies in this world against whom resistance was utterly futile.

Yet this was merely the bewilderment of the living.

The dead had no need to think, and thus they felt no hesitation—though nearly a third of the departed souls had been transformed into a rain of blood scattering across the sky during that recent onslaught, that was still less than a third.

They knew neither fear nor despair, nor did they comprehend the concepts of failure or futile effort.

All they knew was—

That was the enemy. An enemy that needed to be eradicated, destroyed, and fought against.

And so.

Dragging their mutilated and incomplete bodies from the rubble, the army of the dead reorganized once more, launching yet another challenge against the unapproachable and unconquerable arch-fiend.

Much like ants charging at an elephant, the scene appeared somewhat comical, yet equally stirring and tragic.

Yet the scions of glory could not manage a smile.

Those self-sacrificing "ants" were none other than their ancestors—more than that, among them were their grandfathers and grandmothers, their fathers and mothers.

Therefore—

How could they not be shaken? How could they not be moved?

Yet, precisely someone managed to do just that.

Amy Ulysses took in the entire scene, calmly and even indifferently assessing the situation.

The resurrected dead could not hold out for long.

A simple and straightforward judgment.

Facing an enemy of this tier required the mobilization of combat strength at least on par with Edgar—and even then, it would likely just be a confrontation. Only by gathering the absolute strongest tier within Hermetica, including the Sword-Bearers and the Glorified, could they engage in a truly equal battle, an equal slaughter against such a foe.

Even so, the chances of victory would remain terribly slim.

Among all the individuals he had encountered, the only one whose oppressive and despairing presence surpassed this was the little girl named Pandora.

That was the first time he had ever experienced the realization that, even with the Omen of Death, his chances of victory were... no, that the prospect of survival was virtually nonexistent.

Although the ancient evil entity known as Hydra displayed a destructive power far surpassing Pandora's, in an actual combat scenario, he had no doubt that this majestic, seemingly invincible monster would be defeated simply and inconceivably easily at the hands of that little girl whose appearance possessed a perfection quite unlike humanity.

That was a strength... impossible to comprehend, yet clearly felt.

A despairing strength.

Edgar's defeat and death provided an exceptionally clear demonstration of this point. Perhaps related to his lack of combat proficiency, and with the fading of the First Flame day by day since the descent of darkness serving as another contributing factor, the First High Priest had nevertheless utilized the First Flame and the city to contend against Leviathan, the great beast of the sea, for seven days and seven nights. By the same token, even if Edgar could not achieve that feat, he should have been fully capable of engaging in a head-on duel with a malevolent beast descended from the Primordial Source of Chaos.

Yet against Pandora, he had been defeated simply and decisively, ultimately failing even to preserve his own life.

The stark disparity in strength between them was chilling.

Formidable though the Hydra before them was, claiming that it surpassed Leviathan—which roamed freely through the Sea of Chaos—was entirely unconvincing.

Only... even if it fell short of monsters like Leviathan and Pandora whose tiers defied calculation, the Hydra, capable of manifesting the true name of chaos within the ordered world, was still not an adversary that Amy, whose Primordial Fire was nearly extinguished, could face.

Therefore—

It was better to leave it to the great figures of the Council.

With this thought in mind, the black-haired and black-eyed scion of glory withdrew his gaze.

"Let's go," he said, but unexpectedly received no response.

His dark eyes instinctively scanned his surroundings—the five-member squad under his command was presently in far from good condition. The unlucky bearer of lightning abilities had a thin wooden board pierce directly through his left eye and traverse his entire head, completely silencing him; the one capable of generating telekinetic bombs was in a relatively better state, though his body and face were marred by a shocking yet superficial array of blood-scratches from flying debris; as for the Glorified capable of briefly sealing space-time and his friend Joshua, they were fortunate enough to have sustained no injuries, appearing merely disheveled.

However, the three surviving members merely stared blankly with vacant expressions at the crimson pupils that stretched nearly to the vault of the heavens.

Dull as puppets, completely motionless.

This was wrong.

Immensely wrong.

Observing their eerie state, Amy Ulysses could not help but furrow his brow.

He took a step forward, walking to the side of the silver-haired, crimson-eyed scion, blocking their vacant line of sight with his hand, and gently shook the man's body.

"Ah—"

As if jolted awake from a nightmare, Joshua let out a shriek laden with terror. His handsome face ceased to be rigid, replaced instead by a twisted expression brimming with fear, accompanied by a relentless trembling of his entire body.

"What is wrong?" Amy could not comprehend it at all.

"You cannot feel it—" Facts proved that humans could not truly understand one another. Joshua onions gazed at his friend with an equally astonished expression. "It is like an ant encountering an elephant; the body refuses to move, even the soul feels as though it is sinking into an abyss, utterly devoid of any ability to muster a thought of opposition—an oppressive weight and despair of that magnitude."

"My apologies," the black-haired and black-eyed youth replied, utterly devoid of any trace of remorse in his tone, "I feel absolutely nothing."

"Is that so?" The silver-haired, crimson-eyed scion regained his composure—at least on the surface. He glanced briefly at the youth beside him, then took a trembling step forward. "Go wake the others."

Although the pressure originating from their very tier of existence was formidable, it was not entirely insurmountable.

"Are you kidding me! That is the enemy we have to face!" Compared to the older "Space-Time Sealer," the "Telekinetic Bomb" wielder, who was of the same age group as Amy and Joshua, clearly found it difficult to accept this reality. Having completely lost his fighting spirit and will to battle, his face was plastered with panic and helplessness. "There is no way we can win, absolutely no way—let's run—let's abandon Hermetica and run."

The youth, incapable of empathizing with their sensations, momentarily did not know how to respond.

Fortunately, the bearer of the space-time sealing ability provided the answer.

The aging Glorified said nothing, merely delivering a simple and straightforward slap across the young man's face.

"You—"

The young scion wielding telekinetic bomb abilities seemed about to say something, but another crude and heavy slap forced the words back down his throat.

After a prolonged silence, the fear and madness in his eyes finally receded.

"Thank you."

The scion, who had nearly been consumed by terror, offered his heartfelt gratitude.

"No need. Evacuate as quickly as possible." The "Space-Time Sealer," whose sideburns were touched with gray, turned slightly to glance at the dwindling procession of the dead marching behind them. "We do not have much time left."

"Let's go."

Amy shared the exact same sentiment. Had the connection of the spiritual network remained intact, he might have aided nearby Glorified in breaking free from the Hydra's intimidation—yet there were no ifs. Although he did not know what had befallen the young lady of the Archibald family, judging by the collapse of the spiritual network, her current state was undoubtedly perilous—she might even have perished entirely.

Under such circumstances, locating the scattered main force was no easy task.

He could only place his hopes on those who were farther away from the Wall of Sighs and the Hydra, believing that the deterrence and suppression they suffered would be lesser than that experienced by unfortunate souls like themselves on the front lines, and hopefully would not impair their mobility.

Otherwise, once the dead returned entirely to dust, their turn would come next, leaving behind a group of helpless Glorified akin to lambs awaiting slaughter.

That being said—

The great figures of the Council ought to be making their move by now.

Perhaps Hermetica's foundation could not conquer this ancient evil entity originating from the dawn of creation, but who could believe they lacked the combat strength to contend with it?

At least Amy certainly did not believe it.

Ignati, Edgar—even though their lives had drawn to a close in thoroughly ungraceful manners, judged solely from the youth's perspective, both possessed the qualifications to challenge the Hydra—and though the probability of victory was virtually nonexistent, it would by no means be a one-sided massacre.

Were there other Sword-Bearers and Glorified at their tier?

There should be.

Duke Galsworthy, who in his memories had always borne an inexplicable hostility toward him, gave him a sense of awe that fell no short of those two, and perhaps even surpassed it.

In contrast, the Grand Sword-Bearer of the Order whom he had encountered in the Order's graveyard seemed slightly inferior.

That being said... didn't the Order still have a mysterious Patriarch yet to make an appearance? If he was in Hermetica, should he also be considered a top-tier combat asset?

Thinking thus, Amy Ulysses turned his head to glance one last time at the rampaging ultra-giant Deep One behind him, and then resumed his stride.

Next—

It was time to wait for those great figures to step onto the stage and save the world.

"As if."

Amidst the dim ruins, the youth fancied he heard a familiar voice, yet when he turned back to look, there was nothing to be found.

His dark eyes simply overlooked the little girl standing right before him, who had no intention of avoiding his gaze whatsoever.

All that manifested was a landscape of desolate ruins.

"What happened?" Joshua noticed his friend's sudden movement and turned back with him, his gaze lingering briefly upon the ruins that held nothing worth cherishing, reflecting nothing but emptiness. "There is nothing left here."

"Indeed," Amy Ulysses replied, pale and virtually invisible flames igniting within his pupils, his voice calm and even somewhat dull. "Nothing at all."

His gaze paused imperceptibly before shifting away, and his feet stepped forward once more.

Receding further and further into the distance.

Behind him, the young girl with black hair and dark eyes lightly frowned with her exquisite brows, displaying a rare trace of uncertainty and doubt. "Just then... was that the Primordial Fire?"

No, not quite.

Shortly after, she dismissed the judgment she had just formed.

No, rather...

—It was utterly impossible.