CHAPTER 359: CHAPTER 254: BACKSTAB_2

The power she unleashed only enraged the tentacle further. What Tamara glimpsed next was a scene of utter despair.

Countless eyes split open upon the tentacle. In between those eyes, innumerable mouths tore open, revealing sharp teeth and an Abyss-like interior.

In an instant, a thousand eyes and a thousand mouths appeared on the tentacle. Even Tamara, well-versed in the world’s Extraordinary creatures, couldn’t identify what it was. She felt only an unknown fear and despair.

Her extreme emotions seemed to draw the tentacle’s attention. The next second, all its eyes rolled simultaneously, as if with consciousness, targeting them. Then, the mouths let out an indescribable screech almost in unison.

A suffocating darkness surged, suppressing the flame on the torch in her hand. Only a faint light flickered, as if it would extinguish the next second.

And just then, the tentacle continued to extend. Its length was unknown to anyone; it seemingly ignored the distance, reaching before them in an instant.

The pressure in Tamara’s heart was rising crazily. This scene instantly shattered her will. She threw down the torch and chose to run towards her carriage, letting out frantic shouts.

"We can’t beat it, let’s run for our lives!"

But Dismas was faster. He clearly knew trouble had arrived when such evil was summoned from the Void. Without any intention to stay, he quickly moved to the mare Geralt had left behind and leaped onto its back.

"Just hold on a little longer, I’ll find someone to save you!"

Without firing a shot, Dismas, looking terrified, uttered these words and then took off toward Hamlet on the horse.

The Nun also felt tremendous pressure from the tentacle’s influence, but her devout faith provided support for her soul. She hadn’t fallen, nor had she run away.

"The night is indeed dark and devoid of light..."

Having said that, she hung her warhammer back at her waist and bent down to pick up the torch that was about to go out, her face determined. With an emphatic shout, she roared, "But the Holy Flame still burns bright!"

Along with her cry, the dying torch suddenly burst into vigorous life. It exploded with terrifying power around the Nun, confronting the darkness as if forming a pristine Sanctuary.

Just as she said those words, the tentacle was upon her. But as it reached into that light, it spontaneously burst into flames without warning.

The tentacle recoiled as if scorched by fire and twisted insanely. The eyes upon it burst, oozing purple-black pus, and the mouths emitted mad howls.

There was no need to voice it. The raging fury expressed by the tentacle was palpable as it flailed about wildly. The next second, it curled towards the Bald Sorcerer who had summoned it.

Why is Supernatural Power considered dangerous by so many Transcendents?

Because humans try to control forces that they do not understand and that are far more powerful than themselves.

The Bald Sorcerer clearly hadn’t anticipated this turn of events. The backlash from the tentacle manifested instantly—it seemed to have lost control...

Before, he had no power. With being hunted down all along the way, he hadn’t had time to study it. Honestly, he had used this artifact out of sheer desperation.

It was already hastily used. Now, with this development, he was somewhat fearful. His slight frame couldn’t withstand such a blow.

He exerted himself to drive the statue in an attempt to control the tentacle, but it was clear that the artifact wasn’t a controller but more like a summoning material.

It was only good for summoning. What came after was out of his hands.

It’s like being able to call your dad over with a phone, but commanding him is another story.

However, having dealt with these beings frequently, he understood the reason for the loss of control.

Beings from the Otherworldly Void are greedy. They respond to summons because they believe they will be provided with a sacrifice they find satisfactory.

If it could have swallowed the three of them just now, everything would have been pleasant cooperation. But now that it was thwarted, it urgently wanted a sacrifice to compensate.

To it, there was no concept of teammates or enemies. Everything present was its food.

The solution was simple. It just needed a sacrifice to appease its rage, and then it could communicate using the power of the statue.

So, who was to be the sacrifice?

All three of them had kept their distance, and one even ran away.

The Bald Sorcerer seemed to have thought of something. If he could just calm the tentacle, he could rely on it to kill the three of them, gaining much more than sacrificing a servant!

The only sacrifice available is...

Just as the Bald Sorcerer was about to make his move, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back. Looking down, he saw a familiar Dagger penetrating his chest, its blood-stained tip protruding.

Could it be that I am the final sacrifice...

Before he could react further, the Dagger was drawn out. Severe pain robbed him of the sensation in his body, and his strength along with it.

The bodies of wizards, apart from some special factions, are mostly quite frail. Sometimes a single blow is all it takes to end them.

Only when he fell did Catherine, the one who held the deadly blade behind him, become visible. It seemed she had also realized the situation, and her understanding of her master led her to act preemptively.

Catherine wouldn’t dare to touch the statue. But without hesitation, she reached out to snatch the triangle pendant hanging from the Bald Sorcerer’s neck.

It’s mine now...

Just as a look of joy crossed Catherine’s face, an unexpected change occurred. The Bald Sorcerer actually reached out and grabbed the triangle pendant, his visage lifting to reveal a bizarre smile.

"If this were in the past, you might have succeeded, but you have no idea what kind of existence I have newly contracted with..."

"Ah!" Catherine exclaimed in shock. She struggled to snatch the pendant, driven by greed, but found it more difficult than anticipated. The Bald Sorcerer’s strength was beyond her comprehension.

But what she had in abundance from following the Bald Sorcerer around for so long was ruthlessness. A fierce expression appeared on her face. The Bald Sorcerer hadn’t finished speaking before the Dagger in her hand chopped down on his head.

However, the next moment brought a horrifying scene: the wound inflicted by the Ritual Dagger healed within moments.

She had been with the Bald Sorcerer for so many years and had never seen such an ability. What kind of monster had he contracted with this time?

"HEHEHE!" The Bald Sorcerer wasn’t in a rush. He intended to slowly torture the traitor...

But at that moment, had they overlooked something?

The frantic tentacle whipped over. Catherine instinctively crouched down, while the Bald Sorcerer was swept up. Countless maws instantly bit into his flesh.

"Damn it! Let go of me, I am the master!" Even now, the Bald Sorcerer could only ignore Catherine. He lifted his hand to hold the triangle pendant, beginning to resist the tentacle’s backlash.

Catherine didn’t dare to fight for the pendant any longer. She crouched down, spotted the Bone Furnace on the ground, picked it up, and ran towards the distance.

But she seemed to have forgotten something. The Bald Sorcerer wouldn’t allow a traitor to escape. He triggered the ritual within her body, and she froze mid-run, falling to the ground, unresponsive.

On the other side, Tamara had planned to flee, but her horse had run into trouble. The presence of the tentacle had caused it to collapse in fear.

This was no ordinary horse but a hybrid with a trace of Extraordinary creature blood. It was this very bloodline that made it sensitive to the disturbances from the Void.

On the contrary, the mare Geralt had brought, being just an ordinary horse, did not sense the Spiritual Essence, nor could it comprehend what was happening. In its ignorance, it was spared from fear.

Sometimes not knowing, not understanding, is a blessing, even if her frantic efforts did nothing.

She knew a carriage without a horse was just a cage. But she was too unwilling to abandon the carriage. Her greed actually restored a bit of her sanity.

As she grew anxious, the Nun’s Divine Arts repelled the tentacle, followed soon by the bizarre internal conflict between the Bald Sorcerer and his servant.

Meanwhile, Geralt, leaning on his sword and half-kneeling, managed to rise. Fresh blood still trailed from the corner of his mouth.

He wasn’t dead...

The blow had been terrifying. Thankfully, the Quen Glyph’s shield had absorbed most of the damage. However, even the residual force was enough to push him to the brink. Had it not been for his unique Witcher physique, he might have been carried away.