CHAPTER 386: ARRIVING AT NORTHERN CONTINENT

"Hmm, not bad." He after recovering, felt the improvement in his strength. The power of divine punishment let him feel the power of destruction hidden within it, and even his eternal sword also felt some improvement by feeling the vast power of Rion.

Even the Sovereign Black-Gold Flame pulsed with an unusual rhythm, now tinged with faint threads of purple lightning, absorbing and refining the punishment into strength.

"Divine punishment..." Apollo whispered.

He stood up, a cold breeze sweeping across the sea as he looked toward the northern horizon.

The most chaotic continent awaited.

"Let’s go then," Apollo said quietly, his voice calm yet brimming with resolve.

The sea wind tugged at his robes as he stepped forward, the island trembling slightly beneath his feet. Behind him, the guardian silently followed.

Ahead lay the Northern Continent: lawless, wild, and stained by forgotten wars. But for Apollo, it was not fear that stirred in his chest—it was anticipation.

He also made up his mind to find some capable people, even if they were from some weaker ancient race, as he figured with how the current Rion is a mess, he needed more subordinates and people who know about some secret of Rion.

And the northern continent is the best place for finding such people; whether they are trash or a hidden dragon, they can be found on this continent.

They then started to travel through space and quickly crossed the boundless sea between the continent.

Stars flickered above and below, distorted by the spatial currents that surged like ancient tides. Their figures blurred through layers of space.

The sea beneath, endless and black, whispered with the voices of forgotten beasts and submerged ruins — a void where even light feared to linger.

But none of it slowed them.

After some time, they finally arrived at the northern continent of Rion.

The air was heavy here, not with spiritual energy as on the other continents, but with tension. As though the land itself was tired of peace and had seen too many battles and betrayals.

Cracked mountains stretched across the horizon like jagged scars. Faint howls echoed in the wind, and ancient battlefields still shimmered with the residual aura from fallen saints and forgotten monsters. Even the laws of space here felt looser, more unstable.

They landed on a crumbling outpost on the edge of the continent — once a fortress city, now reduced to half-ruined towers and wandering mercenaries. Still, it was the perfect entry point. From here, information flowed, whispers travelled, and ambition reeked in the air like blood on steel.

Apollo stepped forward, eyes calm, heart steady.

This was the land of exiles, warlords, and silent killers.

They calmly entered the outpost, their steps steady as if the rotting world around them posed no threat. The crumbling gates groaned behind them, and the silence that followed was unnaturally sharp — like a beast inhaling before a pounce.

Within seconds, all eyes turned.

Dozens of figures — cloaked in filth, blood, and greed — paused whatever wickedness they were engaged in.

Vagabonds with missing teeth, murderers clutching rusted blades, and bandits whose eyes gleamed with hunger slowly emerged from the shadows. Some stood atop broken walls, and others leaned against collapsed pillars, watching like wolves sizing up prey.

Apollo didn’t care about that; he calmly walked through the outpost. His strange aura or the calm and handsome face — it was the feeling that someone wrong had entered their territory. Someone who didn’t belong in this cesspit.

But just as they were about to enter a tavern to know more about the northern continent, a group of thugs stopped the two of them.

A dozen figures blocked the tavern entrance.

Their leader was a hulking brute with arms like tree trunks and jagged scars crossing his face. Chains dangled from his belt, each one marked with a sigil — likely trophies taken from the corpses of his victims. The others fanned out behind him, forming a wall of crooked grins and twitching hands, all too eager to earn favour with blood.

The brute spat to the side and cracked his neck.

"You look fancy, outsider," he sneered, eyes narrowing at Apollo’s calm, composed face.

"Think that sword makes you invincible? People like you end up gutted in alleys here. Leave the weapon, leave your valuables, and maybe we’ll let you crawl out of here."

Behind him, the others snickered.

Apollo didn’t stop walking. His pace never changed.

The brute’s grin twitched. "Did you not hear me?"

Apollo finally paused — not more than three paces from the leader.

He lifted his gaze, eyes like distant stars, ancient and detached.

"I heard," he said quietly. "I just didn’t think it was worth replying."

The bandits stiffened. For a moment they were shocked, but immediately their expression changed.

The next heartbeat stretched like eternity as a cold gust swept through the street.

Then—

Boom!

A single, thunderous burst of pressure exploded from Apollo.

The street cracked beneath his feet.

The bandits staggered, their smirks wiped clean. A few fell to their knees, coughing blood, their bones groaning under the sheer weight of his spiritual force. The brute took a shaky step back, his instincts screaming at him to flee.

"Snort!"

After a second, the invisible pressure disappeared, and Apollo and his guardian calmly walked through them, and none of the thugs dared to stop them. They were like scared cats making way for the two.

The tavern door creaked open with a groan that echoed through the smoky interior.

Dust hung in the air like faded memories, and the scent of stale ale, sweat, and blood mixed into something thick enough to taste. A dozen rough-looking men glanced up from their mugs and cards. Conversations stuttered to a halt. Knives paused halfway to mouths.

Then, silence.

Apollo stepped in, his presence like a blade slicing through the room’s foul haze. His guardian followed quietly behind.

Eyes watched them — suspicious, curious, fearful. As they had clearly noticed what just happened outside.

There aren’t many that can make that group kneel with just his aura alone. Although those thugs weren’t the strongest here, they weren’t weak.