Chapter 212 - Translation

Chapter 212 Patient Defense Everything went wrong during Gudora's escape. He remained patient, hopeful for his son's return. Hours passed even after the Centinger left, but nothing happened. He shouted many times in an effort to reveal his location. Did the surviving soldiers betray his son upon finding the location of the Parute Trees? Upon having that doubt, he dismissed it, telling himself of the fact that his son was the strongest among them all and also had the most amount of Prana back then. Did the Centingers destroy them all? He dismissed that thought, since all Pranic Beasts avoided harming Parute Trees, no matter in whose territory the trees grew. That was the same here. And since his son was in such an area, they would avoid an artillery strike on the region upon discovering it, no matter how much they raved about points. Did his son fail to find him? The possibility was likely. And hence, he had been shouting all along, never giving in to his doubts. Did his son abandon him? He had that thought four days later. Gudora had grown physically and mentally weaker by now, and hence, his rebuttal toward pessimistic thoughts grew weaker. He wondered if he had ill-treated his youngest son in any way. He couldn't think of an answer. But one more day passed by and he could think of a few. He treated his oldest son the best and trained him as a successor. As he had many children, the amount of time he could spend on his youngest was limited at best. Two more days passed and the number of reasons reached the three digits. Many of them were blatantly petty, reasons that even the target wouldn't have remembered, like supposedly breathing slightly stronger when staring at his youngest son. His mental state had weakened to such an extent he counted such instances as causes behind his son's betrayal. Finally, eight days after being trapped in the pit, Gudora decided to break out. He stood upon the pile of rubble and held the twenty-metre-long crystal rod. By combusting his second body, he generated enough Prana to elongate the rod and make it reach the top. He balanced it using the weight of the rubble at the bottom and climbed it in a hurry. Soon, he reached the top, placing one hand on the surface as he peeked out, stunned in response, "W-What is this?" Ellora City was reduced to floor paving. He could easily see from one end to the opposite side of the flat city area. A strong wind was blowing over the flat lands, devastating him. He peered in the direction of the City Lord mansion and saw the floor there too being the same, coming to a realisation, "Did my son not make it in the first place?" Only if the Centingers knew the existence of the Parute Tree farm would they avoid an artillery strike in the place. But they didn't. Hence, they reduced the City Lord mansion to rubble too. Moreover, once everything melted thanks to the Bone-Melting Artillery, the molten substances flooded the ground, covering everything, including the sole entrance to the Parute Tree farm. It had been eight days since then. The fact that there were no signs of drilling in the region implied that his son and the soldiers accompanying him had died from suffocation. They were unable to break out of the molten layer that was a couple metres thick. While Gudora was still reeling from the shock, a powerful burst of wind slammed into him, throwing him off balance. He fell to the bottom of the pit, almost dying. His combusted husk of a body still existed. It took the place of his death, swapped out instinctively. And the trace of Prana from combusting it remained in him and kept his final body alive on the pile of rubble. Dropped to the body stage, Gudora still had enough strength physically to climb out of the pit once again. But mentally, he didn't. Hence, he remained in a daze for many days. But by the time he recovered from the mental shock, he no longer had the strength to climb to the top. There was nothing there for him to get back to. Everything had been wiped clean. At least, if he still had hatred to rely upon, he would have crawled out. But he had already killed Inala. Hence, the strongest emotion plaguing him now was one of loss, of everything he held dear. He lost the will to live. But his robust body as a cultivator and the Prana in his body kept him alive for so long. Once all the Prana was consumed, his exhausted body was unable to hold on anymore as he fainted. The Empyrean Zinger Scout keeping watch, also the one responsible for the powerful gust of wind, alerted Inala immediately after. Landing beside Gudora, Inala didn't waste any time and used the Empyrean Extraction Prime kill on the latter. He harvested Gudora's skull and used the Mind Slip Prime Skill on it, understanding as much information about the Capital City of the Ganrimb Kingdom as possible. There were some surprising secrets in Gudora's possession. As Inala didn't have time to process them, he placed them lower in his list of priorities and first understood everything about Fhoong Brimgan. Next in his target was Fhoong Brimgan, especially the Gold Kinesis Art cultivated by the Brimgan Empire Royalty. Through Sumatra Chronicles, Inala knew how powerful this cultivation technique was. It had once created an expert on par with a Mystic Empyrean Tentacle. Hence, he wanted its secrets. He also wanted exclusive information about the Brimgan Empire that wasn't mentioned in Sumatra Chronicles, stuff only its Royalty knew about. That would help his subsequent plans. Lusting after the skulls of both Fhoong Brimgan and the Millingers, Inala made his way to Ganrimb Kingdom's Capital City, unsurprised upon reaching there to see that it was still standing tall. All the other cities of the kingdom were no more, in complete ruins. They weren't wiped clean like Ellora City but were still in a state closer to it, filled to the brim with corpses that had been segregated carefully based on the male Centinger that had killed them. And now, as it was already the last month of the mating season, all the Centingers, both male and female had reached the Capital City. While the females watched from afar, the males joined the battle. There were still two male Millingers that were alive. Upon seeing that, Inala began digging an underground tunnel to the Capital City from far away, reaching it after two days had spanned. He caused a miniature Empyrean Zinger Scout to burrow out on the battlefield and observe the state of things. Inala was deep underground and maintained contact with it through psychokinesis. After knowing the position of the most injured male Millinger among the two, he dug his way towards it, remaining at a depth of fifty metres. It was a very safe distance, thanks to the thick layer of ground between them. He then started to create a trap similar to the one he sprung on the Boar King, scouting using the Empyrean Zinger Scout while he waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. Four golden chakrams revolved in the sky, having not dropped a single number from the start. Fhoong Brimgan was still at the 6-Life Stage and was steadily killing his opponents. Moreover, after he had killed two Millingers, he had enough leeway to kill some Centingers too, making life easier for the soldiers in the Capital City. Unlike the other cities, casualties here barely reached four thousand. Upon seeing more Centingers arrive, he snorted mentally, 'It seems the last of the cities fell. It's indeed frustrating. But as long as I'm here and the capital city stands tall, I can rebuild the Kingdom within three generations. It's not an issue.' He calmly swapped an exhausted body with one that finished making a full recovery, continuing the battle at a pace advantageous to him, knowing very well that as long as he defended against the attackers for a few more days, he'd win. The attackers would retreat once the mating season ends. And there were less than twenty days for that. !

**Chapitre 212 : La Patience mise à l'épreuve** Tout avait mal tourné depuis la fuite de Gudora. Il était resté là, patient, à guetter le retour de son fils. Les heures avaient filé, même après le départ des Centinger. Rien. Il avait hurlé à maintes reprises pour signaler sa présence. Les soldats survivants avaient-ils trahi son fils après avoir localisé les Arbres Parute ? Cette pensée l'obsédait. Pourtant, son fils était le plus puissant d'entre eux, celui qui disposait du plus grand réservoir de Prana à l'époque. Les Centinger les avaient-ils tous exterminés ? Impossible. Toutes les Bêtes Praniques évitaient de s'attaquer aux Arbres Parute, quel que soit le territoire. Même ici. Et puisque son fils se trouvait dans ce périmètre, ils n'oseraient pas bombarder la zone, malgré leur obsession maladive pour les points. Son fils avait-il échoué à le retrouver ? Plausible. Voilà pourquoi il continuait de crier, refusant de douter. Son fils l'avait-il abandonné ? Cette idée le rongea au quatrième jour. Gudora, physiquement et mentalement affaibli, succombait aux pensées noires. Avait-il maltraité son cadet sans s'en rendre compte ? Aucune réponse ne venait. Mais un jour de plus passa, et les justifications fleurirent. Il avait toujours privilégié l'aîné, le préparant à lui succéder. Avec tant d'enfants, le temps accordé au benjamin était forcément limité. Deux jours supplémentaires, et les raisons se comptèrent par centaines. Certaines dérisoires : un regard trop appuyé, une respiration légèrement plus forte en sa présence. Son esprit déglingué transformait ces broutilles en motifs de trahison. Huit jours après son emprisonnement, Gudora décida de s'échapper. Il se hissa sur le tas de gravats et empoigna la tige de cristal longue de vingt mètres. En sacrifiant son deuxième corps, il généra assez de Prana pour allonger la tige jusqu'au bord. Il l'équilibra avec les débris à la base et escalada en hâte. Quand il atteignit l'orifice, sa main agrippa la surface. Son regard se glaça : « Q-Qu'est-ce que... ? » Ellora n'était plus qu'une dalle uniforme. D'un horizon à l'autre, la ville avait été rasée. Le vent balayait cette étendue désolée, le laissant pantelant. Son regard chercha le manoir du Seigneur de la Ville. Même sort. La révélation le frappa : « Mon fils n'a même pas pu arriver jusque-là ? » Seule la connaissance de la ferme d'Arbres Parute aurait épargné les lieux. Mais les Centinger l'ignoraient. Le manoir avait été pulvérisé. Pire : après l'Artillerie Désossante, les résidus en fusion avaient scellé l'entrée de la ferme. Huit jours plus tard, aucune trace de forage. Son fils et les soldats étaient morts asphyxiés, piégés sous des mètres de magma figé. Alors qu'il vacillait, une rafale monstrueuse le projeta dans le gouffre. Sa chute aurait dû être mortelle. Son enveloppe corporelle consumée prit le relais, activée par instinct. Les traces de Prana libérées le maintinrent en vie sur le lit de débris. Rétrogradé au stade corporel, Gudora avait encore la force de sortir. Mais plus la volonté. Il resta prostré des jours entiers. Quand le choc se dissipa, ses forces l'avaient quitté. Là-haut, plus rien ne l'attendait. Tout avait disparu. La haine l'aurait poussé à grimper. Mais Inala était déjà mort. Seule restait cette douleur sourde, ce vide. Plus aucune raison de vivre. Pourtant, son corps de cultivateur et le Prana résiduel le maintenaient en vie. Jusqu'à l'épuisement final. Il s'effondra, inconscient. L'Éclaireur Zinger Empyréen, auteur du coup de vent, alerta aussitôt Inala. Ce dernier atterrit près de Gudora et employa l'Extraction Empyréenne Primordiale. Le crâne en main, il appliqua la Glisse Mentale Primordiale, siphonnant les secrets sur la Capitale du Royaume de Ganrimb. Les découvertes étaient inattendues. Faute de temps, Inala les classa en priorité secondaire. Son objectif : Fhoong Brimgan et son Art de Kinésie Dorée. Selon les Chroniques de Sumatra, cette technique avait produit un expert rivalisant avec un Tentacule Empyréen Mystique. Il en voulait les arcanes. Il convoitait aussi les savoirs exclusifs de la famille royale Brimgan. Un atout pour ses plans. À l'affût des crânes de Fhoong Brimgan et des Millingers, Inala fila vers la Capitale. Elle tenait bon, contrairement aux autres villes réduites en charniers triés par Centinger. En ce dernier mois de saison des amours, tous convergent vers la Capitale. Les femelles observent, les mâles combattent. Deux Millingers mâles survivent. Inala creuse un tunnel depuis l'extérieur, émergeant après deux jours. Un mini Éclaireur Zinger survole le champ de bataille en éclaireur. Enfoui à cinquante mètres de profondeur, Inala repère le Millinger le plus affaibli. Il prépare un piège similaire à celui du Roi Sanglier, guettant l'instant propice. Dans le ciel, les quatre chakrams dorés de Fhoong Brimgan tournoient sans relâche. Toujours au 6e Stade de Vie, il élimine méthodiquement ses adversaires. Deux Millingers tombés, il peut s'attaquer aux Centinger, soulageant les défenseurs. Les pertes ici ? À peine quatre mille. D'autres assaillants approchent. Il ricane intérieurement : *« Les dernières villes sont tombées. Peu importe. Tant que la Capitale tient, je reconstruirai le Royaume en trois générations. »* Il alterne les corps épuisés et régénérés, contrôlant le rythme du combat. Encore vingt jours à tenir. La saison des amours touche à sa fin. La victoire est à portée.