Chapter 446: Entering the Game

After the appearance of the enormous chasm, the momentum of the two demigods' clash did not wane but instead intensified. Both the Blood-Eyed Maid and Roland Benedict saw their auras rapidly rising, becoming more ferocious and violent.

The latter delivered over a hundred strikes in less than a finger snap, and the Blood-Eyed Maid responded with twice that number. The entire space around them was torn to shreds, the ground crisscrossed with deep and shallow ravines. The terrain was completely transformed, and even the hurricane giants and vine puppets they had summoned could not survive. The shockwaves of the battle reached the Ghost City over nine hundred kilometers away, leaving nearby magic professionals stunned and trembling.

But unlike before, Roberte Yvonne's defense through offense had been breached. Her body had been struck several times, leaving her covered in blood, with blood oozing from her seven orifices.

The maid had completely abandoned her previous strategy, switching to a 'trade wounds for wounds' tactic, attacking her opponent with even greater frenzy.

Under her relentless assault, the thirteen 'Fangs of the Wind God' pierced the wooden man's shell multiple times, wounding Roland's true body.

Though the wounds were not deep, they made the red light in Roberte's eyes even more dazzling.

As time passed, the expressions of the many spectators in the Bright World gradually turned grave.

At the top of the Wiltonshire Building, Alexandra Howard's face was ashen.

Roland held an absolute advantage in the second round of combat, yet the recovery speed of the 'Blood-Eyed Angel' Roberte Yvonne struck him as abnormal.

The fierce battle also darkened the gaze of Philip I, who stood beside him.

"Although it looks brutal, Miss Yvonne still has abundant vitality. To me, it feels like—"

Rote Linden, in his magic tower, squinted: "Effortless! She is learning, learning how to fight a demigod. She is also using the pressure from her opponent to help her master her own power."

"This divine authority of the Battle Wind is indeed terrifying. If you cannot defeat her at the start of the battle, her strength will increase without limit."

Louise also watched the projected image: "I suspect her astonishing recovery is related to that set of holy swords?"

But speaking of 'effortless,' isn't that an overstatement? The maid was still at a disadvantage overall, like a small boat sailing in a storm, at risk of being crushed by her opponent's fury at any moment.

"Probably. That set of holy artifacts is extremely powerful."

Rote Linden pondered, tapping the armrest with his fingers: "Louise, go vote on my behalf. It's the motion Conshil proposed earlier about his magic tower."

Louise was taken aback, looking at her grandfather with suspicion: "This is a recorded vote, which means our Linden family can no longer remain neutral."

She knew that once the motion passed, Conshil's magic tower would be free from interference and could fully display its power within the city limits.

"We've already bet on Andrien, haven't we? Now that victory is about to be revealed, it's only natural to increase our stake."

A resolute look appeared in Rote Linden's eyes: "Louise, this is the opportunity our Linden family has waited a hundred years for."

"Victory about to be revealed? Do you think that lady will win this battle?"

"More than that. On one side is a declining dusk, on the other a rising sun. Isn't it obvious which choice we should make?"

"If you insist, I will do as you say, Grandfather."

Louise mused: "But wouldn't it be better for you to go to the Magic Tower Council and vote yourself?"

If circumstances allowed, she didn't want to miss this demigod duel. Her grandfather could easily have sent his puppet clone.

"There is a reason. It's not convenient for me to go now."

Rote Linden smiled, then flashed to the top of the Wiltonshire Building. He stepped into the void and bowed slightly to the three present: "Greetings, three lords."

"Whoa, another gambler entering the game."

Alexandra Howard sneered as he looked over: "Impressive spirit, Rote Linden."

"Of course. Just like a hundred years ago, when Mr. Howard dealt my father the fatal blow, your courage and decisiveness have always been deeply admired by me, and something I wish to emulate."

Rote Linden twirled his magic staff in a graceful arc, and his entire form began to grow younger, age receding from his body.

"Back then, Mr. Howard taught me a lesson: once you place a bet, don't hesitate. Any delay or hesitation leads to failure. Now, I will fight alongside Conshil and see if I can reclaim everything the Linden family lost from you."

"So you're sure you'll win this time?"

As he said this, Alexandra made no effort to hide the murder in his eyes: "That's why you foolishly jumped out?"

"Whether it's foolish can only be judged after we know the outcome."

Rote Linden's gaze shifted to Conshil: "I assume Lord Conshil won't refuse my joining, right?"

"Of course not. It's my honor and a pleasant surprise."

Conshil lifted his chin slightly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth: "I assure you, as a qualified Wiltonshire, I will never betray my ally."

Perhaps both sides had realized that an epic demigod war was inevitable.

The atmosphere grew icy, and four murderous psychic forces clashed in the airspace, fully activating the magic defense array of the Wiltonshire Building below.

Inside the Wiltonshire Building, Margaret Wiltonshire looked up with a pale face. From this angle, she could see nothing; layers of floors blocked her view.

But both the image projected before her and her own senses confirmed without a doubt Rote Linden's intervention.

"I'm a bit worried—"

Conshil's second son, Rodrigo Wiltonshire, sensed an ominous omen, his heart racing: "Why would that old fox Rote suddenly get involved? He's held back for so many years."

"Of course, because he believes that maid and our dear father will win!"

Margaret clenched her teeth, a hint of ferocity on her face: "His granddaughter already bet on that bastard, didn't she?"

"How is that possible? It's absurd. She's just a newly ascended demigod, relying on external power. Roland Benedict has the advantage."

Cleo sneered, looking disdainful. Yet his face gradually turned pale.

Too many unexpected things had happened today: first, Li Mochen's faction suddenly gained a powerful sniper and a demigod, the latter battling Roland Benedict for a full half hour while the former effortlessly sniped thirteen legends; now, Rote Linden's unexpected intervention.

At that moment, his mind stirred. He looked at the image reflected from the Dark World and laughed: "Look, today the 'Saint of Vines' Roland will surely slay this bitch here."