Chapter 78: The Sneak Attack

"Excellent!" As soon as the halo of thorns was knocked to the ground, Cutler didn't spare Lloyd so much as a glance. He tossed aside his nearly broken short sword and turned to lunge at the golden statue nearby.

With a leap, Cutler landed atop the golden statue, using the strength of his body to press down hard on the spear embedded within it. After skewering the golden statue straight through, he twisted the spear with all his might, shattering the blood-red crystal that had formed at its chest.

The moment the crystal broke, the red light in the statue's eyes faded. The golden statue froze, unmoving.

Cutler jumped down, pulled the spear free, and held it high above his head.

"So this is a god? Nothing special at all."

Immediately, two Sise sailors hurried over with Cutler’s clothes, intent on draping them over his shoulders.

But just then, a thought struck him: "Something's wrong. If this so-called god is so weak, why go to such lengths to lure me here?"

The more he pondered, the grimmer his expression became. In a flash, he dove forward, flattening himself against the ground.

Behind him, the golden statue exploded. The violent blast sent a hail of golden fragments hurtling outwards, killing and maiming Sise sailors and native warriors alike.

In the place where the statue once stood remained only a fractured red crystal, which now slowly turned incandescent white. Around it, twisted phantoms flickered into view.

They shouted words like "Sun God," attempting desperately to hurl themselves into the crystal.

At that moment, a Sise sailor accidentally brushed against one of the phantoms. The specter turned, glaring at him.

Without hesitation, the sailor raised his musket and fired at the apparition.

Chaos erupted instantly. More and more phantoms appeared, layer upon layer, devoid of weapons but surging toward every living soul nearby. They clawed with their hands and bit with their teeth, trying to tear every living creature into pieces.

Cutler quickly grasped the truth: this was the real trap.

Raising his spear, he shouted, "Charge! Hold them off while I destroy the crystal!"

But only his Sise sailors obeyed. The other tribal warriors could do little more than form defensive circles for their own survival.

Just then, an old man's voice echoed from the direction of the crystal.

"Hahaha! I knew it! All that faith in gods can't stand up to hatred of the living in the end. Hold them off for me. Once I've mastered the crystal, I will be the new Sun God—Sokresa!"

Cutler finally understood. This old man, Sokresa, had used them as bait from the start. No wonder he’d discussed opening the underworld passage with Parker—he knew the Sun God had left contingencies here and had made extensive plans.

Now, Cutler took a vial of liquid from his pocket, poured it down his throat, then exhaled, spraying the liquid over his spear.

Instantly, the spear turned an uncanny white, with faint echoes of a sacred hymn seeming to ring from its surface.

Though it pained him—this potion had cost a fortune, and he’d hoped to use it for demon-slaying—he steeled himself for what needed to be done.

Raising the spear high, Cutler shouted, "Gather here! If you want to live, come to me!"

His Sise sailors responded quickly, but the native warriors were different. They couldn't understand his words, so they fought separately, each group staying close to its own tribe, but not scattering too far.

Cutler had no concern for the fate of the native warriors. Once his sailors had gathered, he charged toward the crystal, spear in hand.

As he ran, a white light flared from the spear, enveloping everyone within twenty meters.

The white light was not particularly powerful, but all the phantoms shied away from it. Though frustrated, they began to skirt around the light, surging toward the native warriors behind.

Suddenly, a sphere of lightning came hurtling from the distance.

It wasn't large—about the size of a human head—but it was sheathed in layer upon layer of wind blades.

The ball of lightning streaked straight for Cutler.

He was stunned—never would he have guessed that a Sun God would wield lightning. But there was no time to ponder; the sphere was nearly upon him.

He thrust his spear at it.

To his dismay, the blow triggered disaster. The lightning sphere exploded before him, releasing a storm of wind blades crackling with electricity.

Cutler swung his spear desperately, deflecting some of the blades, but many more slashed through the sailors and native warriors nearby, wounding and killing many.

The carnage shattered the tribal warriors’ courage. Screaming, some fled toward the wilderness, others fled toward the blue portal through which they’d entered. Some chose to fight the phantoms with their weapons.

Chaos reigned.

Amid it all, Cutler heard the old man's voice—Sokresa’s—again.

"What is happening?"

Before the old man could react, a bolt of lightning crashed down from the sky, striking the crystal directly. The fractured lines across the crystal spread even wider.

Perhaps the old man was affected as well—he no longer had the strength to speak.

Cutler could not discern the situation, but he knew one thing: he had to get out. The underworld was not his domain, and all the equipment and trinkets he’d brought would do him little good here.

So, gripping his spear, he turned and ran toward the blue portal, determined to escape as quickly as possible. Whatever plans Sokresa had, he’d deal with them later—if he ever returned.

But just then, a fierce wind rose, carrying with it a strange scent.

That scent seemed to stir the soul, filling it with wild euphoria and erasing all thought.

Cutler was no fool. He hesitated only a moment before shouting,

"Not good!"