Chapter 63: Kalvetua’s Fury

Chapter 63: Kalvetua’s Fury

Danitz was choked speechless. Sullenly, he retreated to the side and watched as Gehrman Sparrow lit the candles, burned the powder, and dripped the hydrosol.

After smelling the fragrance spreading through the air, he could not help raising his voice.

“You—you used the wrong materials, didn’t you?”

He remembered that when the rebels sacrificed to Sea God, they had not used things like Full Moon essential oil, Deep Sleep flowers, and chamomile.

It was not as though they were praying to the Evernight Goddess!

Klein turned his head and glanced at him, then looked back at the altar.

“No problem.”

As a professional who often performed sacrifices and received sacrifices, he knew very well that burning hydrosol, essential oil, and herbal powders mainly served two purposes. First, it helped the ritual host better adjust their spirituality and enter the proper state. Second, it pleased the corresponding deity and catered to the object of sacrifice, increasing the probability of receiving a response. In this respect, every deity had their own affiliated and preferred objects.

This sacrifice mainly depended on two things: Kalvetua’s abnormal mental state—his complete madness—and his craving for the aura of the gray fog. Both conditions were indispensable. Nothing else mattered.

As long as those two requirements were met, whether or not the offering pleased him would not affect the ritual. It would neither increase the success rate nor raise the chance of failure. A perfunctory handling was completely acceptable.

If Kalvetua still had reason, even if I strictly followed the ritual’s requirements, do you think he would respond to me? Klein inwardly retorted. Then he stepped half a pace back, preparing to begin the most critical segment.

After brief thought, without turning his head, he said directly, “Stand farther away.”

Me? Danitz was not angry. On the contrary, he was delighted and hastily nodded.

“Alright. Alright!”

He scurried all the way to the warehouse door, planning to run the moment anything went wrong.

Klein half closed his eyes and meditated on countless overlapping spheres of light, rapidly entering the proper state.

In a low voice, he recited in Elvish, “Blessed of the sea and the spirit world, Protector of the Rorsted Archipelago, Ruler of undersea creatures, Master of tsunamis and storms, great Kalvetua.

“Your faithful servant prays for Your gaze;

“Prays that You accept his offering;

“Prays that You open the gates of Your kingdom.”

As one difficult, awkward word after another emerged, wind gradually arose within the wall of spirituality. It quickly intensified, as though about to overturn everything.

Klein’s coat tails fluttered. He took out another small metal bottle he had prepared in advance and poured about five milliliters of the remaining Thousand-faced Hunter blood into the air.

This was an extremely spirituality-rich material!

The gale sucked away drop after drop of blood, howling as it drilled into the candle flame symbolizing Sea God Kalvetua.

Soundlessly, that flame swelled and expanded into an illusory door. Its surface was covered with symbolic signs and magical labels, and from within came the faint sound of seawater splashing.

Suddenly, all movement vanished. Only a single breath echoed from beyond that illusory door, as though some massive creature behind it was struggling to suppress its hunger.

Huff. Huff. Huff…

The enormous breathing grew more obvious, clearer, until even Danitz at the warehouse door felt his scalp prickle.

Bang!

The illusory door abruptly swung open. A hurricane, almost visible in shape, surged outward.

Amid the shrill, wailing sound, Danitz felt the invisible wall of spirituality shatter. He found himself lifted into the air as if he were a small boat in a storm, then slammed hard against the door with a muffled bang.

He fell outside the warehouse, his back scratched by wooden splinters.

The crimson fireball he had…