Sacrifice's Rise: I Became Invincible After Entering Godslayer Temple

Chapter 669 The Legacy of the Werewolf

"Let me think... I was talking about... Right, the legacy! Yes, the legacy! That damned legacy."

As he spoke, Roronora's face twisted into a grim, fierce expression.

"I came for that damned legacy, but it's all a deception! No one can take that legacy; all who tried before me died! Not one survived; they all starved to death!"

"This place is a prison, meant to detain those half-orcs with unrest and defiance in their hearts! It's a trap left by humans to destroy the last hope of the Werewolves!"

"Wait!" Jelia interrupted Roronora.

"Since the beginning, you've been talking about a legacy, a deception, but what exactly is this legacy? Why can't anyone take it?"

"The legacy? Right! The legacy!"

Roronora staggered to his feet, supporting himself against the wall.

"You've been to the lake, so you must have seen them, the crystals on the ceiling of the underground cavern."

"I saw them," Jelia nodded.

Could those crystals be the so-called legacy?

Some kind of mana construct storing information?

"If you're sharp enough, you could easily guess those crystals are related to the legacy."

Roronora paused, seemingly pondering how to phrase his next words.

After a few seconds, he gathered his thoughts and continued: "Yes, those are the legacy I speak of, a legacy left by a special-level magus from a thousand years ago!"

"While special-level magi aren't numerous, they are certainly not rare throughout history. A legacy from an unknown magus isn't inherently valuable, given that the magus system has developed quite comprehensively."

"But, what if this magus wasn't human?"

"What if this magus was a subhuman... a half-orc!"

...

In the subhuman village, the room from which Jelia vanished, the wall adorned with a deep crimson wolf's head that could only be activated by mana, made Ali's expression turn utterly somber.

All signs pointed to the likelihood that this deep crimson wolf's head was a legacy accessible only to half-orcs, perhaps even specifically to Werewolves!

If so, it was impossible for there to be no one in the village aware of this fact.

Despite their current weakened state, the half-orcs were descendants of a civilization that once established a nation spanning the entire continent.

They would have made preparations for the future.

The Garrod Empire's destruction was so swift that countless secrets scattered across the continent remained unknown.

However, a significant portion of these secrets were hidden away by the descendants of the Garrod Empire.

This deep crimson wolf's head might be one such secret!

Of course, Ali had no intention of claiming this legacy for herself.

Aside from already possessing her own legacy, a half-orc legacy would be of no use to her and might even bring negative consequences.

As for selling it for money or fame? Was humanity really that admirable? Her anger stemmed from Monka's concealment.

This was a matter of life and death for Jelia.

Could she really think this was all a joke?

But just as Ali, with a stern face, was preparing to confront Monka again—to ask whether she preferred to protect the legacy or her own life—a loud explosion rang out next to Ali's ear.

As her gaze shifted, Ali moved her feet, her hand already on the hilt of the shortsword at her waist.

She caught a glimpse of a blurry shadow, somewhat familiar in appearance.

Yet... she had never seen anyone launch an aerial sneak attack like this.

Dodging the blurry figure with agile steps, a clear clang sounded as her shortsword was drawn, crimson runes extending from the hilt at the wristguards all the way to the tip, emitting an ominous red glow.

The sword's stance was silent yet formidable, poised for action.

Simultaneously, the figure Ali had sidestepped crashed heavily onto the ground, a scent of blood diffusing into the air.

Ali spared it a glance with her peripheral vision before quickly shifting her focus away.

No wonder it looked familiar; it was one of the Dogfolk from the village, whom she had asked for directions.

Such a tragic end, his bones and brains scattered about—it was a literal case of someone's brains being bashed out.

However, the fact that this Dogfolk appeared in such a manner here made the identity of the person moving swiftly behind the broken wall clear.

The village was under attack, and the attackers were likely all magi!

Previously, because her mana sensing was concentrated inside the room to investigate the wolf's head, Ali only now realized that there were over a dozen new magus presences in the village.

Although their strengths varied, with the weakest barely qualifying as a preparatory-level magus, the strongest were approaching the level of a level 2 magus.

"What's going on here?"

After another glance at the Dogfolk, now reduced to a mess on the ground, Ali sighed, her gaze locking onto the figure at the breach in the wall.

"Are you here for that legacy?"

The figure remained silent, only a pair of crimson eyes under the hood fixed on Ali, their body slightly hunched, like a longbow slowly drawing tension.

"Seems like you're all mute, then."

Ali stepped aside, mana coursing through her body, readying herself.

Before confirming the intentions and strength of her opponent, Ali preferred not to reveal her full capabilities.

Concealing her strength might temporarily put her at a disadvantage, but the hidden power could play a more significant role in the near future.

Still silent, like a cold arrow notched on a full moon longbow, the figure vanished from Ali's sight in an instant of action.

Their speed rivaled, or was even faster than, Howard from the Lorinda era.

This was not good news; even for Ali, facing Howard from that time was challenging.

Without an advantage in either physical speed or reaction time, Ali had to rely on her more proficient mana skills to spar with Howard, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any lapse in his assault.

Without such tactics, she stood no chance.

This showcases the terror of a magus who channels all their energy into a single point.

They may not be versatile, and some types of magi might decisively counter them, but in front of most magi, they are devil-like beings.

However, just as Howard continued to improve, she wasn't standing still either.

If she couldn't capture her opponent with her eyes, then it was best to abandon sight altogether.

The moment the figure disappeared, Ali advanced instead of retreating, her eyes closed, her shortsword thrusting diagonally forward, tracing a bright arc through the air.

Metal clashed against metal in a crisp sound!

Landing a hit, Ali didn't hesitate for a moment.

She changed her footwork, no longer lunging in large strides but moving in closer with smaller steps, directly matching the figure's movements.

The person clearly hadn't anticipated Ali's counterattack to be so swift and precise, failing to mount any substantial defense and easily falling into Ali's controlled rhythm.

In such close combat, whoever first loses the rhythm to their opponent is essentially signing their own death warrant.

Startled, the figure suddenly accelerated, attempting to use their superior speed to shake off Ali.

But how could Ali be so easily thrown off? The opponent's speed was much greater than hers, and if she didn't keep up with their rhythm, she would be at a disadvantage.

Just as the opponent was tense, she couldn't afford to relax either.

Her sword blade whirling, Ali stepped sideways, her blade sweeping towards the opponent's face!

If the opponent was determined to accelerate away from her, there would inevitably be a moment of pause before the acceleration—a pause that, albeit brief, still required time!

Now, the two were almost face to face.

The opponent didn't have the superhuman reflexes like Howard to control their movements at such high speeds!

If they didn't dodge, it was impossible to avoid Ali's sword!

And if they did dodge, Ali wouldn't give them a second chance to accelerate!

Would they risk injury or even death to follow through with their plan, or choose to look for another opportunity?

Ali didn't leave much time for the opponent to think.

But her shortsword missed.

In the final moment, the opponent chose to dodge.

After all, in the face of death, how many can truly remain indifferent? Not even Ali could.

To be alive is to have everything; in death, one is nothing more than a pile of rotting flesh.

Leaning backward, the figure rolled to the side to dodge Ali's sword, their hand brushing past their waist as three tailless throwing knives were released, hurtling towards Ali's back with a faint whooshing sound.

Even in retreat, the opponent did not miss any opportunity for a counterattack.

But it was futile.

Ali moved as if she had a pair of eyes on the back of her head, stepping forward, her body sharply twisting to split in two, perfectly dodging the flying knives as she turned around, coldly staring at the enemy only a step away from her.

"I'll ask one last time." Ali looked into the crimson eyes beneath the hood, "Who are you?"

The sounds of battle outside the room were intense, but Ali knew the subhumans were already losing and preparing to flee.

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