Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1464 - 1025: Holding on

As he spoke, a holy radiance began to flow over Anthony’s body, but instead of forming the Pope’s crown, it morphed into a set of Holy Spirit Armor.

Then, Anthony slowly unsheathed the Demon Spirit Long Sword, which Ange had tossed to him earlier during his transformation.

Samus’s gaze landed on the Demon Spirit Long Sword, his eyes widening in shock. "Fytol? Come back! Respond! Fytol!"

Samus gestured a few times while frantically calling Fytol’s name, but the Demon Spirit Long Sword showed no reaction whatsoever.

"What did you do to it? Did you erase its consciousness? How despicable!" Samus furiously rebuked in anger.

Anthony, unwilling to take the blame, gave the longsword a casual shake and said, "Aren’t you going to respond to him?"

The Demon Spirit Long Sword replied in an annoyed tone, "Why should I respond to him? He’s about to die anyway."

"Fytol, you—you betrayed me?" Samus’s panic deepened. This cursed sword actually declared his imminent death? Did that mean he couldn’t even run away?

Samus glanced behind him, where the terrifying light orb and the giant tree were ganging up on the Plane Consciousness, while Ange had landed on the hardened magma and was amusing himself by studying pieces of dirt.

If he could just get past the human in front of him, escape was still very much possible. The only problem was the Demon Spirit Long Sword in his opponent’s hand, which put him at a weapon disadvantage.

With this in mind, Samus shouted loudly, "What’s so impressive about wielding a stolen Demon Spirit Long Sword? If you’ve got the guts, put it down, and we’ll settle this one-on-one."

"Even though I know you’re baiting me, I’ll take it. Old Du, catch." Anthony tossed the Demon Spirit Long Sword toward Durken with a flick of his wrist.

The Demon Spirit Long Sword spun in the air. Samus’s expression shifted, and he reached out to summon the sword. Without any containment, this was Fytol’s best chance of escape.

However, the Demon Spirit Long Sword didn’t respond at all. Like a standard, non-flying sword, it followed a parabolic trajectory and landed steadily in Durken’s hand.

"At least you know your limits," Durken sneered with a chuckle.

Gripping the sword hilt in one hand, he removed his tall hat with the other and placed it before him. The hat unexpectedly floated in midair.

Durken first retrieved an Original Magic Egg cloaked in dazzling multicolored light from inside the hat and affixed it to the joint between the sword blade and the hilt. Then, he tapped it lightly with the Gold-touch Stick.

The Original Magic Egg was firmly embedded in the junction of the hilt and blade.

"What... what is that?! What are you sticking on me?" While the object was unfamiliar, it was unmistakably powerful—something encased in Dawn Origin and fortified by the forces of the Crystal Barrier couldn’t possibly be insignificant.

As Durken continued rummaging through his bag, he commented casually, "It’s an alchemical weapon designed to blow you into powder. If you try to remove it, it’ll explode instantly. If someone strikes you, it’ll still explode."

"..."

"To ensure no one accidentally hits you, I’ll make a scabbard for you. No need to thank me." Durken smiled as he pulled out a small bag of Small Black Crystals.

These were scraps of black crystal left over from the Demon Spirit Long Sword’s cutting process—irregularly shaped and exceedingly thin fragments.

Durken began by brushing a piece of thin leather against the Gold-touch Stick, upon which the leather automatically trimmed itself and stitched together into the shape of a scabbard.

Next, he overlaid the scabbard with Mithril sheets, then stuck the Small Black Crystal fragments neatly atop the Mithril sheets before lightly tapping with the Gold-touch Stick.

The Mithril sheets immediately melted, seeping into the gaps between the black crystal fragments and securely merging with the leather scabbard. One part of the scabbard bulged outward, shielding the Original Magic Egg. This ensured the egg couldn’t be touched unless the sword was unsheathed.

Durken cheerfully remarked, "With a scabbard like this, you’ll be much safer. When you shake, the tight clamping spring at the tip of the sword ensures the scabbard shakes along with it. It won’t be caught or scrunched up, and even if the outer layer gets scratched, the black crystal layer beneath will quickly blunt your edge. That way, you won’t hurt anyone. Does that make you happy?"

Fytol’s consciousness fixated on Durken. This man was the second most shameless person it had ever encountered, crafting an alchemical trap to control it, then adding a restrictive sheath under the pretense of "protection," and even hypocritically declaring there was "no need to thank him." And now, he had the audacity to ask, "Does that make you happy?"

Happy your ass. If it could, Fytol would’ve loved nothing more than to hack Durken and his equally shameless partner Anthony into seventeen or eighteen pieces. Alas, it could only grit its teeth and force out two begrudging words: "Thank you."

"You’re welcome," Durken said as he locked the sword into the scabbard and hung it at his waist.

Meanwhile, Anthony had already condensed his Pope Wand, swinging it around like a two-handed hammer in front of him. "Back in the Endless Cage, you relied on your superior strength to hunt me down. I dodged, not because of your martial skills, but because I lacked your raw power. Now, under my Lord’s blessing, I’ll match your strength and show you what true martial techniques look like."

Anthony’s words left Samus stupefied. It was Negris who mocked him instead, "You talk too much. I almost forgot—you used to be the Dark Knight Emperor."

Very quickly, Samus got a firsthand experience of "true martial techniques." With the nearby Little Ghost providing support and projecting power with minimal loss, Anthony adjusted his strength to match Samus’s, even slightly undercutting it before hammering him mercilessly with his wand, leaving him with a head full of lumps.

Elsewhere, Little Ghost and Little Sapling teamed up to extract the Plane Consciousness’s soul. Little Ghost punched straight through the Molten Giant’s chest, blasting apart its rocky body and sending a wisp of Little Flame flying out.

The now-enormous Little Sapling, grown into a towering giant tree, raised its massive hand and swatted the flame back.

Little Ghost smacked it back again with an open palm, and Little Sapling swatted it once more. After a few repetitions, the Little Flame resigned itself to its fate, sprawling on the ground like a puddle of burning oil, sizzling and flowing.

Giving up already? Little Ghost glanced bewilderedly at Ange.

"Catch it," Ange instructed.

Little Ghost scurried over, scooping up the spread-out flame in his palms before scampering back toward Ange.

The giant tree, now reverting to the form of Little Sapling, lowered a branch, transforming into its smaller form and quickly dashing toward Ange as well.

Upon reaching Ange, Little Sapling extended its roots and perched itself onto his head. Then, with a shake, a single True Leaf fell, followed by a sleepy declaration: "Tired—nap time—" before nestling atop Ange’s head and dozing off.

Negris picked up the dropped True Leaf and asked worriedly, "Is everything all right? Losing leaves—is it overexerting itself?"

Ange shook his head and pointed at the Fire Lava Giant Tree. "Just stuffed."

Overfed, indeed. Not only had it grown into an unprecedented new strain of the World Tree, but it had also absorbed all of the Plane Consciousness’s power.

PS: So many trivial things to deal with around the New Year. Wishing everyone wealth and prosperity!