In the midst of the storm, Elliott slowed his pace and turned an eye on the typhoon, striding backward. He understood the danger it posed, and the Scanara people confirmed it. The weather would not calm anytime soon and would continue to wreak havoc until Yerachmiel was defeated.
It was a typhoon of destruction that summoned a once-known Seraph, an ancient life whose heart was plunged into darkness. This meant that the people who visited their islands would most likely end up in a fight to death. No one was safe and not even peaceful citizens in Sanctum City.
"Oh, no... We're doomed."
One man in the tribe claimed and tumbled his knee. Many others dropped like dominoes and believed that they lost hope for survival.
Elliott became irritated, seeing everyone submitting defeat in a second. No one trusted that they would live and continue to mourn their death beforehand.
"You can't be serious, guys. Giving up already? I would assume warriors, like you, had a strong desire for survival. However, you are down on your knees at the first sign of a storm. You were all so proud to replenish hope for the Sanctum Islands, but now you yearn for defeat without giving it a second thought?"
Men and women did not respond to the questionnaire. They would not budge or rise. It saddened Elliott, seeing him work with a bunch of cowards.
He argued and pointed at them as frustrating. "You are a bunch of pushovers! You've lived here for so long, and now, you surrender? Were you expecting your home to recover easily? You're insane if you believe so! Our crew out there, fighting for your homeland, and all you do is whine and complain? None of you could become a part of Timothy's crew!"
They observed him and heard his complaints, learning he wasn't happy with them. Each one traded looks among the ones who surrendered.
"Hey... Ka'jai. He's not wrong. We're a bunch of weaklings. All we did was hope they could preserve our land, but the most valuable thing we did, was capture the seraphs guarding Hywel's hideout. You're our commander. Shouldn't we do something about this?"
Ka'jai peered at the ground, examining the spear he held. The reflection of his face gleamed in the thunder. He rose to his feet and encouraged others to proceed.
He raised the spear in the air and provided orders.
"People of Scanara! Men and women! Outsiders like the one before us fight in our name when our country is in critical condition! We have opposed the horrific abuses that our enemies have inflicted, but never have we overcome the seraphs! It is our responsibility to defend our country and maintain peace! It's time for a struggle that will determine whether we live or die! Everyone willing to face menace, raise your arm, and join the warfare!"
Scanara warriors traded looks. Many of them nodded and agreed. Slowly, one by one, the arms of the men and women began rising in the air. Their voices resounded and echoed over one another, and before long, the ones who surrendered their land to havoc returned to battle.
After seeing everyone change their mind, Elliott became enlightened and set his arm on his hip. He responded, happy and proud, "Perfect! If everyone's ready to face an ancient menace, then hurry up, and let's find the last remaining hideout."
In one of the rivers, Elliott noticed a blue axolotl poking out. Before they parted ways, Chiaki reportedly suggested one.
"Hold on..."
Timothy stood upright with tightly formed fists and observed the typhoon. Ivione did the same.
"You're going to ignore the heavy storm drifting above the dead zone? You won't even try to stop it?"
Ivione shut his eyes, exposing his intentions weren't the ones Timothy assumed he'd have. He noticed regret in his eyes but couldn't bypass Timothy's interference.
Ivione pointed his finger at Timothy's heart, showing him to be the primary villain. "You have yet to show me your worth to possess Photine's powers. I won't back down on my word until you do so, nor will I interfere with the chaos near the dead zone."
Timothy winced in pain, clenching his fists and gritting with his teeth. He grabbed his forehead, shutting his eyes to conceal them.
He shook his head as the steam around him dispersed.
"Prove your worth. Reveal your power. Don't interfere. Do that and do that. Yadda-yadda! If you have a problem with me, write it on a piece of paper, fold it, and shove it up your ass. I'm done with these dumb, stupid reasonings..."
"All you 'gods' do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the show like this is some kind of movie theater. How about you put effort into retaining your lives because even without your existence, the world would be the same plain-old rollercoaster."
Timothy's pupils tightened in the middle of his eyes, which turned blood red. His hair began to wave in the wind, shifting unpredictably. Their red eyes gained a rose glow, piercing forward like a burning arrow through the wood.
His arms dropped beside his hips, forming black flames that seethed around him and encircled his body like an unstoppable typhoon.
Timothy's voice turned echoey and deformed. It astonished Ivione each time he spoke. Suddenly, Phalris materialized beside Timothy and looked him in the face.
"Timothy. You're losing focus. If you keep relying on fury, you'll lose all sense and rampage." Ivione and Phalris met in person, exchanging eyes with one another while trying to calm him.
"So, be it." He angled his wrists upward and grinned as his hair became black. "If you, gods, desire power and worship and care not about your peasants that can't defend themselves, then you wouldn't mind if I caused a bit of drama, right? Cause standing here, thinking about what could happen to those innocents, bring me the idea..."
"To bitter your taste and drive out the last remaining organs a god possesses. Trust me. I can rip them out, serve them on a plate and pretend it's the organs from an annihilated beast. Because sometimes, slaughtering of the divine needs to ensue."
To be continued...