Don't confiscate my identity as a human race-Chapter 1369 - 838: Hyperion’s Awakening

Blood Moon City was unfathomable, nestled within the distorted and deformed void.

A slender figure transformed into an invisible wisp of wind, weaving and swirling through the scattered ruins of buildings.

She stepped over tilted and misshapen stairs, her toes grazing the ground as she leapt and maneuvered across the rocky walls of the structures.

"Hyperion, be careful. This is the chaos void zone. The Mechanical Messenger's vision is quite limited here, and the coordinates for Marquis Ulysses have already slipped from our grasp."

Abigail's commanding voice echoed in her ears.

"Understood."

Hyperion replied succinctly as she darted forward once again.

At this point, her direction was almost entirely reliant on Abigail's map for navigation.

As for those battlefields, for now, the enemies on their side were being held off by their own powerful combatants, allowing the Mechanical Messenger to observe safely from sheltered positions.

However, a high-speed, Eighth-order unit like Tenth Ancestor Marquis Ulysses, left unchecked, would destroy the Messenger with ease if it drifted even slightly closer.

In the fragmented void where Hyperion was, the dilapidated remnants of buildings and shattered rubble whirled and ascended in the blood-colored abyss. Fragments chased and teased each other mid-air, sometimes converging, sometimes breaking apart. Walls and damaged ground were manipulated by invisible giant hands, twisting vertical lines into sinister curves, bending horizontal planes into unimaginable slopes that defied her inherent understanding of spatial laws.

The nonsensical transformation of gravity wove an invisible web. Immersed within, Hyperion felt as though she had stepped into an absurd time-space tunnel, with every step defying the very fabric of physics.

Fortunately, at higher levels, using flight spells became considerably convenient. By merely changing spell configurations, she could employ high-speed Wind Magic or Telekinesis magic.

"Almost four o'clock..."

Hyperion glanced at the time as she plunged into the boundless scarlet mist.

From the start of Cret Country's afternoon National Festival at three, where Emperor Saint Baldo the Great delivered his speech, to the appearance of the War God, the granting of blessings, their infiltration of the City Hall, and their plummet into this realm—nearly an hour of continuous battle had passed.

The situation was dire, and the time was slipping away.

If they couldn't succeed in battle within the limited timeframe, once the War God's blessings ended, the bloodthirsty War God under Rashal's control would undoubtedly storm Blood Moon City, condemning all their allies to an inevitable doom.

The urgency of time spurred Hyperion to accelerate, with broken walls and ruins rapidly receding behind her. In the crimson abyss, they wavered and flickered into illusory, fragmented shadows, and as Hyperion picked up speed, they were cast far into the distance.

"Abigail, how's your side holding up?"

Hyperion's agile figure cut through the air in a powerful, fluid arc—like an unsheathed blade, fiercely shattering the dense mist of Blood Moon City.

"So far, nothing critical. The worst situation is unfolding at Antanas's Hall of Annihilation, followed by Almis's Fading Hall and Isatia's Soul Hall. Tolyado is severely slowed in the Ice Stagnation Palace, unable to cast teleportation magic, which Fa Mo will immediately interrupt and suppress. Right now, he's only barely holding Fa Mo off, preventing him from rushing to the Fading Hall and swiftly killing the Bingxue Witch."

Abigail relayed the battle status.

The Bingxue Witch and Withered Bishop's battlefield was a war of attrition between two healers. Even if Tolyado joined, he couldn't help the Bingxue Witch eliminate the excessively resilient Withered Bishop Nedoqika. But if Rotten Archbishop Fa Mo moved in, his damage output would easily aid Nedoqika in swiftly killing the Bingxue Witch.

"Understood. I'll make my way to the Earth Abyss Palace as quickly as possible."

Hyperion vaulted across precarious ruins with such speed that the Mechanical Messenger could barely catch how she landed. Mid-sentence, she twisted her body, gliding like a fish along the tilted and collapsing walls, narrowly brushing past an upturned spire. She masterfully adjusted her movement, evading the incoming bricks and debris.

"In about ten minutes or so, you'll emerge from this scarlet mist void and see Earth Abyss Palace at the lowest elevation in the southern expanse."

Abigail's guiding voice remained a constant companion to Hyperion.

The real challenge would be whether Hyperion could leverage her traits to maneuver around the Eighth-order summoned creature, the Blood Snake, stationed at Earth Abyss Palace. Her strategy depended on figuring out how to wear it down by circling around the crystal.

Just as Hyperion was charging through the void of Blood Moon City, she suddenly sensed something amiss. Her movements abruptly halted—her light, agile form frozen in place, like a leopard catching the scent of peril. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

Her sharp gaze swept the surroundings, pupils slightly constricting.

"..."

Hyperion quickly pivoted, springing towards a suspended building and seamlessly hiding her silhouette within its looming shadows.

She pressed her back against the stone wall and remained utterly still.

A few moments passed.

At the far end of the scarlet abyss, a tall and graceful figure slowly appeared on the horizon.

The silhouette enlarged gradually within the blood-colored haze, becoming distinctly visible.

He was a young Blood Clan male, with short snow-white hair slicked back on one side, his navy blue suit trailing behind him as it swayed in the air.

His crimson eyes were serene and gentle; at first glance, he radiated no threat, evoking an almost spring-like warmth and friendliness.

Hyperion's heart sounded the alarm.

She instinctively sensed a mighty, terrifying force arriving far above her position—a sensation so intense, it sent chills down her spine. This was a primal intuition.

Without even poking her head out to look, Hyperion already knew: it must be the Tenth Ancestor Ulysses.