Chapter 28: Cohen's Astounding Act—Summoning the Gods!

In the first-floor private box, Mordo clicked his tongue softly.

"This kid is really good at stirring up trouble. Doing this in front of so many people—doesn't Raymond care about his reputation? Does he really think all Legend-rank powerhouses are as easygoing as I am? I am quite curious: what exactly is he relying on to quell the wrath of a Legend?"

"My Lady, should we intervene?"

"My Lady?"

Isabella snapped out of her daze, her tone carrying an inexplicable nuance. "Since when did that Nephthys get so close to him?"

Mr. Mordo was left bewildered by Isabella’s peculiar train of thought. Was this really the time to be considering that? Why did she suddenly bring up Nephthys? Still, he replied, "It seems they reached some sort of agreement. I saw them talking for a long time when things wrapped up yesterday."

Isabella arched a delicate eyebrow. "What kind of agreement would make him willing to stand alone against a Legend?"

Mordo frowned slightly, feeling that his mistress was acting particularly strange today. "Er, I don't know about that. Let's ask him in a bit. The bishop of the Church of Light he asked us to arrange has been secured; I was just about to tell him that."

Isabella waved a hand. "No need to ask. I'm not interested in that."

A strange expression crossed Mordo’s face as he asked, "Shall we intervene? It feels like this kid is about to reach his limit."

Isabella blinked. "Oh, do go ahead. Don't let that scoundrel Raymond hurt him."

...

Cohen’s face remained as calm as water. He turned his gaze to Nephthys beside him. "You are a candidate for Saintess of the Temple of Combat. Raymond will not vent his anger on you. You should leave."

Nephthys shook her head firmly. "Sir, there is no candidate Saintess here, only your Nephthys."

In the private box, Mordo was stopped in his tracks by Isabella's icy expression. "Wait! Let him suffer a bit first before you intervene!" Mordo wisely chose not to ask why.

Nephthys’s reply stirred something in Cohen’s heart. He reached out to pat the girl’s head and whispered, "Do you have a sword? Lend it to me."

He had several standard longswords within his "Heart of Eternity," but in front of so many people, he could not afford to reveal that magical artifact. Nephthys nodded and withdrew a longsword from her storage item, handing it to him.

Cohen grasped the hilt and skillfully spun the blade, tracing a beautiful arc in the air. He had not asked his Uncle King Haug to intervene; firstly, his identity was too sensitive and would easily lead to unnecessary speculation, and secondly, he did not want to rely on outside help this time.

The crowd watched Cohen wielding the longsword. Is the sword his weapon of choice? A profession centered on swords... he didn't look like it. If the situation were different, many would have surely asked what profession this mysterious young man held.

Raymond said coldly, "It seems my attitude yesterday gave you a misconception! It made you think you were qualified to speak to me as an equal!"

Cohen continued to wield the sword with practiced ease, smiling faintly. "You made your choice, and I made mine. Why the need for anger?"

Watching Cohen remain calm and composed under the pressure of a Legend-rank powerhouse, the onlookers couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. This level of poise alone was enough to outshine countless young talents.

Isabella’s star-like eyes shimmered with a dizzying light; her gaze never once left Cohen. A flicker of appreciation appeared in Raymond’s eyes. If it weren't for the other party’s excessive arrogance, he would have truly been willing to continue their cooperation.

Raymond’s voice rang out again: "I admit, you are indeed a genius, and a very formidable one at that! But the Magic Tide Continent is never short on geniuses! You may be gold, but the Empress’s palace in the Central Empire is paved with floor tiles made of gold! I will give you one chance: submit to me, and I will spare your life. In the arena of the God of War, even Mordo cannot stop me."

Cohen stopped his swordplay. He looked at Raymond with eyes full of playful mockery and asked, "The Empress of the Central Empire? Is she... a deity?"

The crowd’s expressions shifted, none of them understanding what Cohen meant by this sudden question. As the words fell, Cohen lightly tapped the ground, exerting force through his right hand. Using his sword as a brush, he began to trace complex runes onto the floor. Before long, several arcane symbols formed a pattern resembling an altar.

Seeing the pattern appear on the ground, the crowd was filled with confusion. Yet, Raymond, who had been aggressive just a moment ago, suddenly froze. He seemed to have realized something unbelievable, his breathing turning ragged. "You... what are you drawing!"

His voice carried a hint of panic.

The complex pattern was quickly completed. Cohen stood tall, cast a cold glance at Raymond, then pointed his sword toward the heavens, chanting in a strange, obscure cadence. Even though they couldn't understand what Cohen was saying, every syllable he uttered made their souls tremble. Their hearts seemed to beat in rhythm with his inflection!

At this moment, Raymond had completely lost his Legend-rank aura. His face turned ghastly, his body trembled, and deep within his eyes lurked a trace of fear.

The nobles on the first and second floors, who had been observing the situation from the shadows, could no longer restrain themselves. Many of the old-guard aristocrats—the kind whose stomps would cause the city of Afein to tremble—had emerged. They stepped out of their boxes, their faces filled with sheer terror as they watched Cohen’s actions.

This... this is...

While the others were baffled, seeing those high-and-mighty, unflappable nobles looking on in stunned silence told them that Cohen was surely performing some extraordinary ritual. For a moment, the entire venue’s attention was locked onto this masked young man.

Isabella’s expression was completely frozen, as if she had been struck by invisible lightning. Her red lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but finding it too shocking, she remained silent.

Those from the top factions and the great noble houses who had come out from the first and second floors were now harboring the same suspicion as Isabella:

The Invocation of the Gods!

This young man was actually summoning a god!

Ten thousand years ago, the gods of the Magic Tide Continent had already ceased walking among mortals. Usually, the priests of various temples sought divine aid through prayer. This was the most common way to contact the gods—like the priests holding a telegraph line to the heavens. They could send messages, but whether the gods received or answered them depended entirely on the gods themselves; the initiative rested in their hands.

Yet, beyond this, there existed a more brutal and direct method: the Invocation of the Gods!

It was like making a phone call! As long as you didn't hang up, the phone would keep ringing! The gods were forced to respond.

However, this was merely a theoretical method. In reality, no one ever used it. Not only did "Invoking a God" require a long and complex ritual that almost no one understood, but even if someone did, who would have the audacity to disturb a deity? Were they tired of living?

But everything happening before their eyes made it clear: someone actually knew how, and someone actually dared!

As Cohen uttered the final syllable, the entire dueling arena was suddenly engulfed in a blood-red light. After a moment of eerie silence, the thunderous sound of warhorses charging echoed in everyone’s ears—

Ares, the God of Combat and War, had descended!