Chapter 1189: The Famous Four
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Chapter 1189 The Famous Four
Upon entering the Kraken Clan building, the group was immediately struck by the grandeur of the interior. Dominating the center of the main hall was an awe-inspiring centerpiece: a colossal statue of a kraken, expertly crafted from gold. Its tentacles seemed to reach out into the space around it, creating an imposing yet majestic presence that commanded attention. Thïš êššëñçë ïš šëçürëlÿ ëmbëddëd ïn n0v&lb¡n★
The hall was abuzz with various groups and individuals from a multitude of races, each engaged in their own conversations or preparations. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and a hint of underlying competition. Elves in their elegant robes mingled with dwarves clad in sturdy armor. At the same time, humans and other races such as halflings and demihumans, conversed in hushed tones, adding to the diverse tapestry of the gathering.
As Michael and Gaya moved through the hall, snippets of conversations reached their ears, providing insights into the collective mindset of those present. Many were speculating about the dungeon they were set to explore, discussing strategies and potential dangers.
One conversation, in particular, caught their attention. A group nearby was discussing Silvaris, the angel of Velarix, the god of thieves. "They say Silvaris created the dungeon," one person whispered, "and stored everything he stole in there. Who knows what treasures and traps he's left behind."
Meanwhile, Borgin, with a sharp eye, scanned the crowd and issued a cautionary warning to his group. "Secure your items," he advised in a low tone. "There are members of the thieves' guild around,"
Michael's gaze followed Borgin's, and he soon noticed a few individuals who were skillfully navigating through the crowd. They were scanning their surroundings, occasionally brushing past unsuspecting people. With deft movements, they pickpocketed valuables, their actions almost invisible to the untrained eye.
Gaya watched with a hint of amusement as a group of halflings executed their craft with remarkable finesse. These halflings, barely reaching the elbows of some of the taller races, moved with agility and stealth that made them almost ghostlike. Their appearance was typical of their race, with bright eyes and mischievous expressions. Each move was calculated as they deftly dipped their hands into the pockets of unsuspecting elves, who were too engrossed in their conversations to notice. The halflings' nimble fingers relieved the elves of their purses and jewelry before putting them into the small satchels the halflings carried.
Noting the distinct lack of orcs compared to other races, Gaya realized that, much like the orcs in the mortal realm, those in the realm of gods seemed to prefer a more pacifist lifestyle, favoring scholarly pursuits over combat.
Then, turning to Michael, Gaya whispered a question, her eyes glancing towards the mechanical soldiers that patrolled the hall. Their heavy steps resonated with a metallic thud, echoing through the space. "Can you see the cultivation level of these mechanical soldiers?" she inquired quietly. Michael observed the soldiers closely, noting the glowing runes and the seamless way they moved. "They seem to be powered by celestial crystals," he responded in a low voice. "And the runes, along with how they are built... it looks like they're designed to manipulate their cultivation levels."
His assessment spoke of the high level of technological and magical advancement in Aurumvale, where even the guardians of a building could be sophisticated enough to adjust their power levels as needed. Suddenly, a subtle but noticeable tremor rippled through the ground, causing the bustling hall to fall silent. Heads turned in unison towards the source of the disturbance, a sense of anticipation filling the air.
Another mechanical soldier, distinct from the others, made its entrance. It was taller and more robust, its body adorned with an intricate array of runes. The golden body of the soldier was decorated with red linings, and its eyes glowed a deep, ominous red, giving it an imposing presence. This soldier was clearly of a higher rank or specialization, its design suggesting advanced capabilities and strength.
"Is that Lysandra?" someone gasped, their voice tinged with disbelief. "Riding a dragon of the Elemental Attunement Realm!"
"Look at the size of that thing" another added, their eyes wide with awe. "They say she tamed it herself, a feat only few could dream of."
Following Lysandra's impressive entrance, another figure drew the crowd's attention. A young elf man with golden hair descended from the sky, wearing shimmering silver armor and metallic wings that reflected the light beautifully. He landed gently, his long sword sheathed at his side, radiating an aura of valor.
"Elrion!" an elf in the crowd exclaimed, recognition lighting up their face. "A warrior who worships Valorious, the God of Valor and Bravery."
"His skills in battle are legendary," someone else chimed in. "It's said he's never known defeat."
The murmurs and discussions among the crowd grew louder, a mix of admiration, envy, and excitement. After Lysandra and Elrion arrived, two more figures descended, further captivating the audience.
An old woman, her back hunched, floated down on a swirling chakra. She was draped in dark robes, clutching a staff that seemed to pulse with a mysterious energy. This was Shar, known for her devotion to Morbus, the God of Plagues. Her arrival sent a ripple of fear through the crowd.
"Shar," someone whispered, their voice laced with a hint of dread. "Remember the famine she unleashed?"
"Yeah," another voice joined in, barely above a breath. "A whole village refused to worship a god, and she brought down a poisoning plague upon them. Wiped them all out." The fear in their tone was palpable, a testament to Shar's formidable powers and her god's ruthless will.
The final figure to make an entrance was a young man with silver hair and piercing green eyes. He was a dark elf, dressed in dark robes, equipped with two short daggers, and a bow and quiver strapped to his back. "Who is he?" asked a dwarf, clueless about the dark elf's identity.
"That's Jin," someone muttered, their eyes fixed on the dark elf. "He's said to be one of Death's chosen."
"I heard he can move like a shadow," another added, their voice a mix of admiration and unease. "They say he's never failed an assassination."
"This reminds me of the time of the Heavenly Gates competition," Michael chuckled, feeling the nostalgia. "I have a feeling this is going to end up with some pretty bad face slapping," Gaya whispered to Michael.
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Chapter 1189 The Famous Four
Upon entering the Kraken Clan building, the group was immediately struck by the grandeur of the interior. Dominating the center of the main hall was an awe-inspiring centerpiece: a colossal statue of a kraken, expertly crafted from gold. Its tentacles seemed to reach out into the space around it, creating an imposing yet majestic presence that commanded attention. Thïš êššëñçë ïš šëçürëlÿ ëmbëddëd ïn n0v&lb¡n★
The hall was abuzz with various groups and individuals from a multitude of races, each engaged in their own conversations or preparations. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and a hint of underlying competition. Elves in their elegant robes mingled with dwarves clad in sturdy armor. At the same time, humans and other races such as halflings and demihumans, conversed in hushed tones, adding to the diverse tapestry of the gathering.
As Michael and Gaya moved through the hall, snippets of conversations reached their ears, providing insights into the collective mindset of those present. Many were speculating about the dungeon they were set to explore, discussing strategies and potential dangers.
One conversation, in particular, caught their attention. A group nearby was discussing Silvaris, the angel of Velarix, the god of thieves. "They say Silvaris created the dungeon," one person whispered, "and stored everything he stole in there. Who knows what treasures and traps he's left behind."
Meanwhile, Borgin, with a sharp eye, scanned the crowd and issued a cautionary warning to his group. "Secure your items," he advised in a low tone. "There are members of the thieves' guild around,"
Michael's gaze followed Borgin's, and he soon noticed a few individuals who were skillfully navigating through the crowd. They were scanning their surroundings, occasionally brushing past unsuspecting people. With deft movements, they pickpocketed valuables, their actions almost invisible to the untrained eye.
Gaya watched with a hint of amusement as a group of halflings executed their craft with remarkable finesse. These halflings, barely reaching the elbows of some of the taller races, moved with agility and stealth that made them almost ghostlike. Their appearance was typical of their race, with bright eyes and mischievous expressions. Each move was calculated as they deftly dipped their hands into the pockets of unsuspecting elves, who were too engrossed in their conversations to notice. The halflings' nimble fingers relieved the elves of their purses and jewelry before putting them into the small satchels the halflings carried.
Noting the distinct lack of orcs compared to other races, Gaya realized that, much like the orcs in the mortal realm, those in the realm of gods seemed to prefer a more pacifist lifestyle, favoring scholarly pursuits over combat.
Then, turning to Michael, Gaya whispered a question, her eyes glancing towards the mechanical soldiers that patrolled the hall. Their heavy steps resonated with a metallic thud, echoing through the space. "Can you see the cultivation level of these mechanical soldiers?" she inquired quietly. Michael observed the soldiers closely, noting the glowing runes and the seamless way they moved. "They seem to be powered by celestial crystals," he responded in a low voice. "And the runes, along with how they are built... it looks like they're designed to manipulate their cultivation levels."
His assessment spoke of the high level of technological and magical advancement in Aurumvale, where even the guardians of a building could be sophisticated enough to adjust their power levels as needed. Suddenly, a subtle but noticeable tremor rippled through the ground, causing the bustling hall to fall silent. Heads turned in unison towards the source of the disturbance, a sense of anticipation filling the air.
Another mechanical soldier, distinct from the others, made its entrance. It was taller and more robust, its body adorned with an intricate array of runes. The golden body of the soldier was decorated with red linings, and its eyes glowed a deep, ominous red, giving it an imposing presence. This soldier was clearly of a higher rank or specialization, its design suggesting advanced capabilities and strength.
"Is that Lysandra?" someone gasped, their voice tinged with disbelief. "Riding a dragon of the Elemental Attunement Realm!"
"Look at the size of that thing" another added, their eyes wide with awe. "They say she tamed it herself, a feat only few could dream of."
Following Lysandra's impressive entrance, another figure drew the crowd's attention. A young elf man with golden hair descended from the sky, wearing shimmering silver armor and metallic wings that reflected the light beautifully. He landed gently, his long sword sheathed at his side, radiating an aura of valor.
"Elrion!" an elf in the crowd exclaimed, recognition lighting up their face. "A warrior who worships Valorious, the God of Valor and Bravery."
"His skills in battle are legendary," someone else chimed in. "It's said he's never known defeat."
The murmurs and discussions among the crowd grew louder, a mix of admiration, envy, and excitement. After Lysandra and Elrion arrived, two more figures descended, further captivating the audience.
An old woman, her back hunched, floated down on a swirling chakra. She was draped in dark robes, clutching a staff that seemed to pulse with a mysterious energy. This was Shar, known for her devotion to Morbus, the God of Plagues. Her arrival sent a ripple of fear through the crowd.
"Shar," someone whispered, their voice laced with a hint of dread. "Remember the famine she unleashed?"
"Yeah," another voice joined in, barely above a breath. "A whole village refused to worship a god, and she brought down a poisoning plague upon them. Wiped them all out." The fear in their tone was palpable, a testament to Shar's formidable powers and her god's ruthless will.
The final figure to make an entrance was a young man with silver hair and piercing green eyes. He was a dark elf, dressed in dark robes, equipped with two short daggers, and a bow and quiver strapped to his back. "Who is he?" asked a dwarf, clueless about the dark elf's identity.
"That's Jin," someone muttered, their eyes fixed on the dark elf. "He's said to be one of Death's chosen."
"I heard he can move like a shadow," another added, their voice a mix of admiration and unease. "They say he's never failed an assassination."
"This reminds me of the time of the Heavenly Gates competition," Michael chuckled, feeling the nostalgia. "I have a feeling this is going to end up with some pretty bad face slapping," Gaya whispered to Michael.
Chapter 1189 The Famous Four Upon entering the Kraken Clan building, the group was immediately struck by the grandeur of the interior. Dominating the center of the main hall was an awe-inspiring centerpiece: a colossal statue of a kraken, expertly crafted from gold. Its tentacles seemed to reach out into the space around it, creating an imposing yet majestic presence that commanded attention. This essence is securely embedded in n0v&lbnThe hall was abuzz with various groups and individuals from a multitude of races, each engaged in their own conversations or preparations. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and a hint of underlying competition. Elves in their elegant robes mingled with dwarves clad in sturdy armor. At the same time, humans and other races such as halflings and demihumans, conversed in hushed tones, adding to the diverse tapestry of the gathering. As Michael and Gaya moved through the hall, snippets of conversations reached their ears, providing insights into the collective mindset of those present. Many were speculating about the dungeon they were set to explore, discussing strategies and potential dangers. One conversation, in particular, caught their attention. A group nearby was discussing Silvaris, the angel of Velarix, the god of thieves. "They say Silvaris created the dungeon," one person whispered, "and stored everything he stole in there. Who knows what treasures and traps he's left behind." Meanwhile, Borgin, with a sharp eye, scanned the crowd and issued a cautionary warning to his group. "Secure your items," he advised in a low tone. "There are members of the thieves' guild around," Michael's gaze followed Borgin's, and he soon noticed a few individuals who were skillfully navigating through the crowd. They were scanning their surroundings, occasionally brushing past unsuspecting people. With deft movements, they pickpocketed valuables, their actions almost invisible to the untrained eye. Gaya watched with a hint of amusement as a group of halflings executed their craft with remarkable finesse. These halflings, barely reaching the elbows of some of the taller races, moved with agility and stealth that made them almost ghostlike. Their appearance was typical of their race, with bright eyes and mischievous expressions. Each move was calculated as they deftly dipped their hands into the pockets of unsuspecting elves, who were too engrossed in their conversations to notice. The halflings' nimble fingers relieved the elves of their purses and jewelry before putting them into the small satchels the halflings carried. Noting the distinct lack of orcs compared to other races, Gaya realized that, much like the orcs in the mortal realm, those in the realm of gods seemed to prefer a more pacifist lifestyle, favoring scholarly pursuits over combat. Then, turning to Michael, Gaya whispered a question, her eyes glancing towards the mechanical soldiers that patrolled the hall. Their heavy steps resonated with a metallic thud, echoing through the space. "Can you see the cultivation level of these mechanical soldiers?" she inquired quietly. Michael observed the soldiers closely, noting the glowing runes and the seamless way they moved. "They seem to be powered by celestial crystals," he responded in a low voice. "And the runes, along with how they are built... it looks like they're designed to manipulate their cultivation levels." His assessment spoke of the high level of technological and magical advancement in Aurumvale, where even the guardians of a building could be sophisticated enough to adjust their power levels as needed. Suddenly, a subtle but noticeable tremor rippled through the ground, causing the bustling hall to fall silent. Heads turned in unison towards the source of the disturbance, a sense of anticipation filling the air. Another mechanical soldier, distinct from the others, made its entrance. It was taller and more robust, its body adorned with an intricate array of runes. The golden body of the soldier was decorated with red linings, and its eyes glowed a deep, ominous red, giving it an imposing presence. This soldier was clearly of a higher rank or specialization, its design suggesting advanced capabilities and strength. "Is that Lysandra?" someone gasped, their voice tinged with disbelief. "Riding a dragon of the Elemental Attunement Realm!" "Look at the size of that thing" another added, their eyes wide with awe. "They say she tamed it herself, a feat only few could dream of." Following Lysandra's impressive entrance, another figure drew the crowd's attention. A young elf man with golden hair descended from the sky, wearing shimmering silver armor and metallic wings that reflected the light beautifully. He landed gently, his long sword sheathed at his side, radiating an aura of valor. "Elrion!" an elf in the crowd exclaimed, recognition lighting up their face. "A warrior who worships Valorious, the God of Valor and Bravery." "His skills in battle are legendary," someone else chimed in. "It's said he's never known defeat." The murmurs and discussions among the crowd grew louder, a mix of admiration, envy, and excitement. After Lysandra and Elrion arrived, two more figures descended, further captivating the audience. An old woman, her back hunched, floated down on a swirling chakra. She was draped in dark robes, clutching a staff that seemed to pulse with a mysterious energy. This was Shar, known for her devotion to Morbus, the God of Plagues. Her arrival sent a ripple of fear through the crowd. "Shar," someone whispered, their voice laced with a hint of dread. "Remember the famine she unleashed?" "Yeah," another voice joined in, barely above a breath. "A whole village refused to worship a god, and she brought down a poisoning plague upon them. Wiped them all out." The fear in their tone was palpable, a testament to Shar's formidable powers and her god's ruthless will. The final figure to make an entrance was a young man with silver hair and piercing green eyes. He was a dark elf, dressed in dark robes, equipped with two short daggers, and a bow and quiver strapped to his back. "Who is he?" asked a dwarf, clueless about the dark elf's identity. "That's Jin," someone muttered, their eyes fixed on the dark elf. "He's said to be one of Death's chosen." "I heard he can move like a shadow," another added, their voice a mix of admiration and unease. "They say he's never failed an assassination." "This reminds me of the time of the Heavenly Gates competition," Michael chuckled, feeling the nostalgia. "I have a feeling this is going to end up with some pretty bad face slapping," Gaya whispered to Michael.
