Chapter 557: War 2

"Wow, look at this list: Magus Ron Edmund, Demigod Mage Ibu Garrison, Demigod Mage Richard Tyson, Demigod Sorcerer Philip I, Demigod Sorceress Ms. Clara Konzell, Demigod Warlock Roland Benedict, Demigod Berserker Kum Wilton, Demigod Shadow Eden Candlen, Demigod Arcane Swordsman Alexandra Howard, Demigod Hunter Ivan Broy, Demigod Dragon-Blooded Sorcerer Cliff Ayers, Demigod Warrior Marquis of Ranstaf, Demigod Hunter Bond, Demigod Arcane Swordsman Claude Kidd, Methuselah Prince Clotaire Ventrue, Methuselah Prince Utreid Gimil. Just on this side alone, there are already sixteen demigods—"

In the Abraham White House, the atmosphere in the Oval Office was indeed oppressive to the extreme; a hurricane was brewing in the low-pressure environment here.

"Damn the Violet Family! Damn the National Progress Association! Loren, this is the man you recommended to me? You bastard, you betrayed my trust!"

The President, standing behind his desk, had completely lost his usual genteel demeanor, unleashing a string of profanities in front of the many advisors present. The object of his wrath was Loren Cadren, currently serving as White House Chief of Staff.

The man sat in a corner, head bowed, wearing an expression that was both angry and helpless, mixed with deep shame.

Yet no one present felt any pity; this chief of staff, who had been in office only four months, had indeed caused them a great deal of trouble.

"George Mattiola accepted your appointment as special envoy, clearly to facilitate his actions in Atlanta."

The one who spoke next, following the President, was Ms. Christie Blythe, one of the White House magical advisors and Vice President of the New Continent Magic Association.

"That man never intended to mediate the dispute between the two Wiltonsteins or bring peace to Atlanta. The National Progress Association has its own agenda; they deliberately wanted to provoke this divine war—"

"Ms. Blythe, now is not the time to assign blame."

National Security Advisor Jaxon Richard interrupted Christie Blythe's speech, his expression calm and serious: "We need to solve the problem first, everyone. We only have ten minutes. Otherwise, the entire city of Atlanta will be reduced to ruins. At least twenty demigods have begun fighting there, and the scale of this war has even exceeded our expectations."

"So what should we do? Is there any way to stop them?"

The President leaned on his desk, scanning the room with a commanding gaze: "Everyone, we must come up with a solution. Unless you want to see me impeached, or the Citizens' Party suffer a crushing defeat in the next election!"

"We can order them into the Dark World!"

The first to offer an idea was the President's Assistant and Cabinet Secretary, a man impeccably dressed in a suit: "I believe the President's authority can achieve this. Unless the Violet Family and the Wiltonstein family are willing to bear the wrath of you and the entire Citizens' Party after the war, they will have no choice but to comply."

"Under normal circumstances, this is indeed a feasible strategy."

This came from another White House magical advisor, the Executive Director of the Magic Association, Magus Torre DeOro, who toyed with a pen in his hand, a sardonic smile on his face: "But the core issue now is the Fenrir Wolf and the Sky Scepter. With the Sky Scepter in his possession, why should Andre fear government retaliation? Conshuri would never let the Fenrir Wolf slip from under his nose. As for the Violet Family and Philip I, they absolutely do not want to see this mythical artifact fall into the hands of the lucky Andre. So I ask you all, how do you plan to make the Fenrir Wolf die obediently and then take the scepter that is the source of the chaos? With presidential authority?"

The oval office fell into silence.

"Can we ask the gods to intervene?"

This was Treasury Secretary Lawrence Rockefeller, who happened to be present while reporting to the President: "As far as I know, several powerful gods, including the Archangels of the Church of Light, have the power to stop this war."

But the many magical advisors present furrowed their brows, looking grave. As the pinnacle of mortal power, they were naturally reluctant to see the power of the gods manifest in the world.

Magus Torre DeOro responded with another smile: "The power of the gods could stop this great war, but would that cause the prelude to the coming divine war to begin prematurely? Currently, the Goddess of Liberty, the Goddess of Magic, the Goddess of Nature, and other powerful gods each have their own affairs. As for seeking help from the New Church of Light—I suspect Mr. President would only pay that price if absolutely necessary. Or we could wait and see; perhaps the New Church of Light will not sit idly by while a large number of believers die in Atlanta and will summon the Archangels on their own."

"Mr. President, the 'Treaty of Separate Governance between Humans and Gods' signed two thousand years ago by the magi and the gods at the Pantheon, and the 'Severance of Heaven and Earth' in the Eastern world, are the foundation of this civilized world."

This was an old man in a magical robe, looking at the President and Lawrence Rockefeller with a gaze full of authority and warning: "The magic associations of the Old and New Continents, and the Daoist sects of the East, will never allow anyone to destroy it! If this treaty is broken, it will be the beginning of disaster for mortals!"

"I understand! I understand!"

The President sighed, then looked at the assembled advisors with hopeful eyes: "Any other ideas, everyone? Two minutes have passed. Whoever you are, if you have a way to stop this disaster, please speak up! Under the current circumstances, even if the cost is somewhat high, it is acceptable."

"I think we have no feasible plan, Mr. President."

It was National Security Advisor Jaxon Richard again: "Perhaps we should change our thinking. My idea is that since we cannot stop it, we should end it as quickly as possible."

"End it? That's not a bad idea."

The President murmured: "The question is, which side should we support?"

"Mr. President, I recommend the National Progress Association!"

The White House Chief of Staff, who had been dejected, interjected at the right moment: "Although George Mattiola betrayed your trust, the strength and influence of the National Progress Association are well known! For the sake of Atlanta and the long-term stability of America, I believe that the lucky Andre should not exist."

Everyone present, including the President, showed slight signs of emotion, their eyes reflecting deep thought.

"That is not a very good choice."

Magus Torre DeOro spread his hands, looking at the elegant figure behind the desk: "Mr. President, as your magical advisor, I must warn you. The National Progress Association is indeed powerful, and may even affect your political life and post-presidential life. But given the current battlefield situation, making this decision would be a very foolish move."

"Why do you say that?"

"Limited to these ten minutes, the forces we can deploy in Atlanta are limited and insufficient to change the course of the battle. And my divination just now leads me to believe that this battle will end within ten minutes."

Torre DeOro spoke calmly, ignoring the uproar in the oval office: "If the war ends with the victory of the Wiltonstein family, your decision today, Mr. President, will put your government in an extremely awkward position."

"Nonsense! My view is exactly the opposite. No matter how brilliant Conshuri and his grandson are, they cannot defeat the National Progress Association and the Violet Family. Your inference and divination defy common sense, Mr. DeOro! You should have long been ashamed of your half-baked astrology; how many things have you messed up because of it?"

The President looked toward the source of the voice; it was another of his White House advisors, the Executive Director of the Magic Association, Magus Rajia Barclay.

With this man's speech as the starting point, arguments in the office rose one after another.

"Support Conshuri and his grandson? I really don't think that's a good idea. America will see another lawless supreme family. The hatred and war between them and the National Progress Association will also give our security agencies a headache."

"But if we condone George Mattiola's actions, then those supreme families and superpowers will all shit on the President's head. Mr. President, you still have four years left in your term."

"Don't forget, the current Wiltonstein family and the Rising Sun Group are important supporters of our Citizens' Party!"

"They also support the Conservative Party—"

"I think DeOro is right. Look at the other side's list: Conshuri Wiltonstein, Andre Lee Wiltonstein, 'Night Ruler' Delfinia, Robert Yvonne, the Twin Sleep Gods, Faust, Mark Targaryen, Franks of the Teutonic Order, Caroline Zhukov, Victor Maxim, Alex Granger, Douglas Duncan, Rote Linden, Byron Linden, Goudra—Conshuri and his grandson's side also looks very strong. Even if we intervene, we may not be able to eliminate them in a very short time."

"It's incredible. The strength of the Wiltonstein grandfather and grandson seems to be inflating like a balloon."

"The key is Andre. If we cannot kill him, this kid under twenty will become America's eternal enemy. With his top-tier talent and the Divine Authority of Life and Death, he can easily gather a large number of supernaturals to oppose the state. That will be a nightmare for all of us!"

These arguments made the President's head spin. At that moment, the corner of his eye caught sight of Ms. Christie Blythe, whose demeanor was relaxed and composed, quite different from the others in the room. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the magus: "Ms. Blythe, you seem unconcerned about today's sudden incident?"

—Considering that the lucky Andre was about to become a student of Bethel Einstein, this was quite puzzling.

"It's not that I'm unconcerned, but I am certain this war will end soon."

Christie Blythe replied calmly: "Mr. President, I have some understanding of that junior's strength, and I have studied his character and style of action in depth. He is definitely not someone who would stop at nothing for a mythical artifact, pushing tens of millions of people toward the abyss of death. But since he decided to do this, it means one thing!"

Christie Blythe crossed her arms, speaking with confidence: "I think he should have enough confidence to end the battle before causing mass casualties, even if his opponent is the National Progress Association. This is also the opinion of my teacher, Mr. Bethel Einstein."

The President frowned, his expression half-believing, half-doubting.

The others in the oval office also showed expressions of disbelief, sneers, or suspicion.

The National Progress Association was a superpower that had existed for four hundred years, and in Atlanta, they had Philip I, a local power, and a true magus who could rival Einstein as an ally.

Thus, even Bethel Einstein could not convince everyone present.

As for Torre DeOro, the accuracy of his divination had been scorned by everyone for decades.

"If Mr. President still cannot make a decision, then perhaps we should wait a little longer. Five minutes have already passed, everyone—"

National Security Advisor Jaxon Richard sighed helplessly: "Of course, necessary work must still be done. I have already ordered the CIA, FBI, DHS and other departments to dispatch demigods toward Atlanta. I also hope that the magi present can complete your magical teleportation gates as soon as possible and reach the battlefield before the situation deteriorates."

—He knew that although the eight magi present were participating in the discussion in this office, most of them were projections, which did not hinder them from completing their ultra-long-distance spatial teleportation processes.

Only Christie Blythe was physically present, perhaps because she truly believed that Conshuri and his grandson were sure to win in Atlanta. In this emergency meeting, she had not even attempted to exert any influence on the President.

And Torre DeOro, though his 'astrology' was notorious, was sometimes very accurate.

—Would this time be the same?

Jaxon Richard frowned, looking at the magical projection in the center of the office. After a moment of contemplation, he still prepared for the worst.

If the situation continued to deteriorate, they would have no choice but to suppress one side.

At present, choosing the National Progress Association side seemed indeed the best option; they were also willing to pay the price. But to completely eliminate all future troubles, they could not allow Andre Lee Wiltonstein to continue living in this world—

However, as time passed, Jaxon Richard's eyes began to show doubt and uncertainty.

On the battlefield in Atlanta, Conshuri and his grandson's forces seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

At this moment, he was not the only one feeling this; the President, sitting behind the desk, also looked uncertain.

"Is that Thomson Beo, the Death's Enemy, and Utreid Demacia, the Thunder Mage? Why did the intelligence department not report information about these two?"

Christie Blythe also raised her eyebrows in surprise, but then suppressed her emotions and elegantly took a sip of her half-cold coffee.

...

While the debate raged on in the Abraham White House, the battle in Atlanta had reached a fever pitch.

The fight between Franks and Alexandra Howard erupted quite abruptly. The latter was very surprised to be attacked by a high-ranking member of the Teutonic Order, but the flames he controlled still swept across the entire street in an instant.

"I never thought Atlanta would hide such a big fish as you, Lambert Franks. But very good, the mythical artifact in your hands—it can be mine!"

Alexandra Howard condensed countless crimson lightning bolts into a sword and struck at Franks's position. The latter dodged with apparent ease; the clothes and skin on his right arm burst open, revealing a sturdy metal arm. Around him, the flames were pushed back, staying a full meter away. Nearby buildings 'spurted' countless chains, lashing toward his opponent.

Franks's actual professional level was only Legendary Level 3, but the ancient mythical artifact 'Molten Heart' from the Mountain Dwarves allowed him to simultaneously wield the Divine Authorities of 'Fire' and 'Iron'.

However, Alexandra Howard's abilities clearly countered him. Vast lightning spread along the chains, tracing back to their source. A dense net of lightning left Franks with no escape.

The magical sword wreathed in crimson lightning made Franks's body tremble with each strike. If not for the life essence provided by Li Mochen continuously repairing his body, most of Franks's body would have been scorched.

Until another bolt of purple lightning arrived from the sky, its scale and intensity far surpassing Alexandra Howard's. The battle axe hidden within the lightning struck, sending the latter's body flying, crashing through countless buildings until it slammed into a twenty-story building five hundred meters away.

Then the two figures flickered continuously, exchanging several blows in the air. Each time, Alexandra Howard was defeated and sent flying, finally gaining a moment's respite thanks to a 'Magic Particle Beam Cannon' fired from high above. His eyes were凝重 and filled with wariness as he looked ahead, while withdrawing all the lightning and replacing all his mana with blazing white flames.

"Thunder Divine Authority! Utreid Demacia! So, you're now a lackey of Conshuri, right?"

"I am currently employed by the Rising Sun Security Company, serving under Mr. Little Weltonstein!"

Utreid Demacia's expression was cold, lightning flickering in his eyes: "Mr. Franks, this guy is my opponent! I suggest you find another target."

Lambert Franks, having recovered from his earlier injuries, shrugged and then vanished without hesitation.

This Alexandra Howard was indeed an opponent he couldn't handle. Though armed with a mythical weapon, granting him demigod-level combat power, he was easily countered. If the mythical weapon 'Molten Heart' could suppress the type, his combat strength would be immense; but if the opponent could counter Franks, he would be severely suppressed.

His next target was Clothar Ventrue, the Magister of the Camarilla, fighting three kilometers away, trying to break through Rote Linden's magic tower.

The latter not only possessed vampire racial talents of agility and ice magic but was also a powerful vampire wielding at least two divine authorities, undoubtedly among the top demigods. However, Lambert Franks's fire divine authority was precisely the type that countered vampires, and most of Clothar's power was focused on opposing Li Mochen's life-and-death divine authority.

And Robert Yvon's wind blades—this blood-eyed maid was becoming increasingly adept in her battle against the high-ranking demigod berserker Kum Welton. Even the latter, wielding the divine authority of strength, could hardly match her.

The composite divine authority 'Wind of Battle' continuously enhanced her combat power. Within just these few minutes, her strength had grown enough to suppress Kum Welton head-on, while releasing a multitude of wind blades covering the entire city of Atlanta.

In fact, none of those fighting in Atlanta were fighting alone. Including these two berserkers, almost all demigods, while struggling fiercely, spared no effort to aid their comrades.

Especially the several magic-energy mages in the sky; their magic towers continuously spewed cannon fire, even colliding with each other. Yet various group spells still rained down from the sky.

Franks alone bore at least seven legendary or even demigod-tier powerful spells, including 'Group Supernatural Physique', 'Group Supernatural Agility', 'Group Supernatural Mind', and 'Temporary Divine Body', bringing his physical abilities close to those of a true demigod.

As Franks began engaging the Magister Clothar Ventrue, the fierce battle between 'Death's Enemy' Thomson Beo and General George Matora was also reaching a fever pitch.

"That's not very smart, Beo! I guarantee that after this war, your name will be on the blacklist of the National Progressives Association."

"Haha! Blacklist, I'm so scared! If you have the guts, don't hire me anymore."

George Matora's weapons were a pair of long whips, entwined with black light energy, filled with destructive power. Whatever material they struck disintegrated entirely.

Within twenty meters around him, the air was filled with black whip shadows, impenetrable and watertight.

Yet the figure in the red bodysuit moved like a phantom within that area of destruction, shuttling freely. The twin blades in his hands struck and pierced thousands of times per second, sparking a shower of sparks around George Matora.

The latter didn't use the whips to counter but extended six mechanical arms connected to his spine—each holding a long blade, matching the speed of the 'Death's Enemy' head-on.

However, the latter's conceptual divine authorities of 'Piercing' and 'Sharpness' made it impossible for him to withstand even six quasi-divine weapon-grade long blades. The alloy arms, made of the toughest 'Doraf Alloy', had been damaged multiple times. Yet the nano-repair devices built into these six alloy arms always restored them in the shortest time.

Correspondingly, Thomson Beo's body was struck seven times in a single second by the two black whips, causing large-scale annihilation of his body.

But this 'Death's Enemy' still fought cheerfully. His unparalleled regenerative power and life divine authority, amplified by Li Mochen's life-and-death divine authority, became even stronger, even 'perverse'.

After a minute of fighting, he even abandoned dodging and resistance, allowing his body to be annihilated, annihilated, and annihilated again.

This gradually turned George Matora's face pale.

"I want to know how much Conshuri paid you, Thomson Beo? I can triple the offer right now!"

But Thomson Beo remained unmoved, instead sighing: "Unfortunately, Mr. Matora. This time he gave me no payment; he called in a favor. Unfair, isn't it? An epic demigod war, and Beo, who only cares about money, not his life, gets not a single cent."

George Matora's face was covered with black lines: "Fifty billion gold shields! For this battle, fifty billion gold shields! That could buy you several quasi-mythical weapons."

But the response he got was swifter, sharper, and more piercing blade shadows!