Level Up Legacy

Chapter 1164 Merciful King of Wrath

Chapter 1164  Merciful King of Wrath

"Did this book change how you feel about him?" asked Oriole as he stared at the book, which had a mysterious power that gravitated people toward reading it. It was a story demanding to be known.

"I have seen visions about the enemies he plans on fighting, in dreams and memories, and if there is an ounce of truth in them, then he is bound to lose," said Sier as he tapped the book in Oriole's hands. "Exactly how Ragnar lost."

Oriole could not answer him, because he needed to know what Sier was talking about. Reading his mind, Sier smirked and walked back toward his spot. This was his cue to leave, so Oriole took the book and left the room.

After being in Mistletoe for over two months now, Oriole gained a lot of knowledge about the seer's limitations. For starters, he could not read the minds of those not in his presence. Thus, he could not actually see what people are thinking about from a distance, but just watch their actions. The main reason should be his mana's reach.

This made Oriole realize that the seer was not omniscient, as his knowledge depended on his mana. The potions and artifacts were also to counter that issue and allow him to gain more knowledge of the world.

In his mind, Oriole wondered what use would the knowledge give him if Sier was too cautious to act. However, he knew that the seer was plotting against his father, the Yalen King.

In this grand mansion, each member had a suite of his own with varying sizes. Oriole was also given one, which he used while in Yalen. After entering the room, he could finally sit down in peace as his room had a protective array.

"You are making me worried, Arthur," said Oriole with a smile. "But this also means that our reunion can be soon. I hope I can be a part of your next adventure, since I have missed a lot."

As he told Arthur before, Oriole decided to hide in the shadows and join Ascent for the sole reason of aiding him. Sier knew that, and Reece also knew it. However, Reece wanted to fix the broken relationship between the two, which Oriole stopped caring about.

Sier was being consumed by his powers, and no matter how much he tried to regain control, it would worsen things. It became a vicious cycle fueled by his desire for revenge and inability to rely on anything but the Seer Guardian.

Bam!

The book slammed on the table as Oriole began taking off his clothes until he wore just a t-shirt and shorts. Then, he pulled a chair and sat down beside the window after throwing some flames into the fireplace. As the flames began warming his room, the alchemist runemaster opened the book.

Brilliant light shone from within the book, as if opening a gate to another world. Oriole felt his consciousness shifting as it gravitated toward the light and then it got sucked into the book.

Bang!

His head slammed on the opened book as he lost consciousness. Oriole felt like he was falling into a deep pit but he could not resist the fall. Before long, his consciousness 'landed' as his entire body shook.

Oriole found himself in an old temple, with walls so cracked that he feared it would collapse on him. The temple had nothing but an aisle and rows of broken chairs, and upon further inspection, a man sitting in the first row.

"My name is Ragnar Netherborne," said the man without Oriole saying a word, and he realized that this was the first line in the book. "This book was not written by me, but a dear friend of mine who wanted to leave a message for the future."

Knowing that his words would not reach Ragnar in any way, Oriole chose to walk forward and sit on the other side of the first row. In doing so, he obtained a glimpse of the man. His features were plain, but sharp. His strong jaw and piercing gaze made him look like royalty, but his ragged clothes said otherwise.

"It has been a long time since someone entered this vision," said Ragnar as he turned toward Oriole, staring at him with his deep black eyes. As he looked into them, Oriole felt himself being sucked into a world of darkness. "The prerequisite to be here is to loath the gods, or follow the Netherborne."

"I would say I am the latter," said Oriole with a grin as he sat down with an embarrassed face. "If I knew that you would see me, I would have worn something better."

Although he threw that joke, Ragnar did not smile or react. In fact, he looked at him for a long time, almost too long. Then, he turned back toward the empty pedestal in the middle, where a statue is usually placed to be worshiped.

"My story begins here, in an old chapel orphanage where I cared for lost children. When I was born, I never realized that I would be chosen to save the universe. But in the end, I guess I failed that too."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Oriole with sadness. "You did your best, right?"

Ragnar did not answer him once again. Instead, he rose from his chair and walked toward the pedestal. Oriole was shocked to see how tall he is, with a body lined with muscles and a back so broad that it could carry the world.

"Someone has to save the world, and it has to be me," said Ragnar as he approached the end of his temple. "I watched these children die after being touched by a product of the gods. Long nights I spend caring for their crumbling bodies, and longer nights I spend weeping as I buried them."

Oriole looked at the man's figure, standing alone before the pedestal. And he realized that this man was no king, but a saint who cared for the week. His body trembled before he raised his fist, and with a calm swing, destroyed the granite to pieces.

"After the last of them died, I took nothing but an old bag as I traveled to look for meaning for life. I wanted to know if there was nothing but suffering in this world, and I came to learn about the secrets of the universe."

Ragnar then turned toward him, standing there as his clothes morphed from rags to black leather. His face was no longer as beloved as before, but twisted in rage. Black lightning crackled around him, reminding Oriole of how Arthur fought against the Cassius and the Light Emperor.

"During my journey to the heavens, I fought against gods and demons. In the end, I realized the true source of evil, which has to be eradicated."

Oriole could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest. Ragnar began moving again, walking down the aisle and toward the exit. In his fluster, the alchemist followed after him, wanting to know his story.

The tall man pushed the gate open, so strong that the temple began to crumble. After the two walked through the gate, it fell to pieces. Oriole saw that they were atop a cliff, with mountains and oceans in the distance.

"The source of evil is the ability to be cruel and violent," said Ragnar as he walked down the path, inching closer toward the edge of the cliff. Oriole saw kingdoms and palaces in the distance, with mythical monsters swimming across the sky. "If I rob the world of its ability to cause harm, then the world would be a safer, kinder place."

Oriole stared at the man's figure as he stood against the world. According to his words, he wanted not to defeat anyone, but snatch away the power from everyone so that no one could oppress others.

"Everyone rejected that notion."

Ragnar sounded sad, but unfazed.

"That made me realize how necessary it was."

Oriole could hear himself taking a deep breath, his chest heaving. Ragnar reached a hand toward the world, making the palaces crumble and legends falling to their demise. His voice then took a wrathful turn. This was a man that would walk straight through a mountain if it stood in his way.

"My name is Ragnar Netherborne, and the world knows me as the Merciful King of Wrath," said the man as his clothes morphed once again, becoming darker and flickering like a flame. "Even if I am defeated, another Netherborne will be born who will fulfill my dream."

Oriole knew who Ragnar was talking about. This man has died a long time ago, but he prophesied the future and Arthur's emergence. As the King of Wrath stood atop the cliff, Oriole realized tears welled in his eyes.

Somehow, he knew that Ragnar would die. And somehow, he knew that his death would not be a result of his defeat, but the world rejected his desires. This man might have been the strongest one day, but he hated strength more than anyone.

Ragnar Netherborne, the Merciful King of Wrath.