From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 425: The Druid's Curse

"This is a disgrace! An absolute disgrace! A disgrace to the British Empire!"

Even King Charles, who was currently tending to his garden, had never heard such words!

He was beyond furious. Pointing a trembling finger at the screen before him, he roared the most vehement words of his life, "How dare he? How dare he say such things in London!"

"I want him dead! I want this Transcendent Being to die in London, at all costs! Declare war!"

"Back in the era of Queen Victoria, we were the ones making others sign treaties! Since when is it someone else's turn to make us sign? Where is Sunak? Where is our Royal Army?"

"If others truly find out about this, what will they think of us? The Germans, the French, the Italians... how will these people view us?"

Charles's voice echoed throughout the entire palace, leaving everyone silenced by fear!

For England, saving face was far more important than anything else. Great Britain had been in decline for so many years, yet the only reason it still held any voice on the global stage was entirely due to this facade of prestige.

Hearing his older brother's near-manic outburst, Prince Edward shook his head and said, "My dear brother, are you saying that, regardless of the lives of my two nephews, we must kill him in London just for the sake of the British Empire's pride? And then turn the last two heirs of the Windsor dynasty into your medals of honor?"

Hearing his younger brother's borderline caustic words, the formerly furious Charles III fell somewhat silent.It was true... He was already very old. If he wanted the throne of England to remain in the hands of the Windsor family, he could only pass it down to his two sons.

But now, those two boys had become hostages!

If he truly insisted on having his way, he might just become the final king of the Windsor dynasty...

The old king let out a regretful sigh and gritted his teeth. "Tell Sunak to negotiate with him! Whatever conditions he has, let him state them first!"

Upon uttering those words, the elderly king seemed to lose all the strength in his body, slumping down beneath the table.

Prince Edward, however, remained thoroughly composed. "Brother, if the negotiations do not go too poorly, you could actually try leaning the throne toward Harry. He is also of royal bloodline, possesses Scottish heritage, and bears the mark of the Celtic People. If we cannot resist, perhaps acceptance is also an option!"

This was a blatant planting of seeds. Prince Edward had directly carved out a special safety net for Harry, causing King Charles to glare at him with profound dissatisfaction.

However, they were all adults, and adults never argued about right and wrong or moral stances; they only cared about interests. "If this battle ends in complete failure, I will give Harry some consideration. But the prerequisite is that he must truly gain the recognition of some Transcendent Being or even the Deities, not just rely on his status!"

"Of course, you are the king!" Prince Edward whispered. He gazed at the seemingly calm yet turbulent scene on the screen before him and offered a faint smile.

'My dear nephew, your uncle has helped you as much as possible. The rest is up to you!'

...

Above the River Thames, the scene of Cuchulainn's identity being revealed and his conversation with Prince Harry was broadcast to the eyes of every single viewer.

Because there was virtually no background noise, the audience could hear every word of the dialogue clearly, giving many people a unique new impression of this red-haired prince.

Compared to the completely flustered Prince William, this seemingly calm prince fit the image of a wise monarch in their hearts much better!

"Are you saying that we need to compensate the Irish people for their past losses?" Prince Harry continued to ask. He was actually quite nervous as well, only using this conversation to ease his own inner tension.

Perhaps it was his status, or perhaps the bloodline he displayed helped. In any case, this seemingly domineering mythological hero and warrior, Cuchulainn, was genuinely willing to speak a few more words with him. "Yes, that is the root of the matter!"

Cuchulainn declared loudly, "The Gods have merely left this world for a little over a thousand years, and it has already turned into this? You are even more barbaric than those so-called Angels!"

"Angels?" Harry paused in surprise. "Do you mean the Christian Angels?"

"I mean those Birdmen! Barbaric, vulgar, utterly inflexible, and fond of beating people!" Cuchulainn seemed to have finally found an outlet to vent, unleashing all his critiques. "If it were not for them, we would have returned to this world long ago. Why would we have to wait until now?"

"Had I known, I should have come back earlier to completely obliterate this nation... Ah, wait, no!"

The legendary hero looked at the realm before him. His originally furious expression suddenly vanished, shifting into one of pure mockery!

Finally, he let out a tremendously loud scoff. "But your realm is truly steeped in despair! Even those Birdmen have abandoned you? Hehehehe! A bunch of despairing barbarians... Forget it, I only came to seek justice for the Celtic People. As for your nation, I have no intention of occupying it!"

His eyes revealed deep mockery and an unfathomable indifference, striking a sliver of fear into Harry's heart.

"Mr. Cuchulainn, what are you looking at? What exactly is our despair?" Harry pressed for an answer, yet he did not receive a proper reply. Instead, he was met with Cuchulainn's somewhat manic laughter!

"Hahahahaha! I see it! I see it now! I see the borderline insane souls upon this land!"

"I see those nowhere-bound souls, wailing and cursing beneath the earth! I hear the cries of children, the jealousy of the Deities, and the curse of death! You people are truly bold!"

"Hahahaha! I originally thought you people only harbored such immense resentment and murderous intent toward the Celtic People. It seems I was wrong. You hold immense resentment toward everyone beneath your own soil!" he roared. "Arthur Pendragon, if you knew your land had turned into this, could you still wait quietly in the Otherworld?"

Then, the warrior simply retracted his spear and stepped back onto his war chariot. Looking down at Harry, he extended an invitation, "So, Prince of England possessing the Celtic bloodline, do you wish to leave this land with me?"

"Were you not going to sign a treaty with us?" Harry froze, asking out of curiosity. "Did you change your mind? Or have you given up?"

"There is no longer any need!" Cuchulainn shook his head calmly. "This land is practically overflowing with curses! It is a curse from the Mother Tree. The Elves and the Druids have cursed this place almost simultaneously. There is no hope left for this land!"

"I initially wanted to bestow punishment upon you all. To my surprise, this land has already issued its final decree of punishment against you. Death has already arrived at your side. All I need to do now is completely isolate your island, lest it affect Ireland!"

Hearing Cuchulainn's words, Harry panicked. "A curse? We people of England have always been kind to others. Why would there be a curse? Have you made some sort of mistake?"

"Kind to others? Hahahaha!" Cuchulainn laughed like a madman. "All I can see beneath this land is death and despair! Those deceased Celtic People used their lives to curse this nation, and you tell me you are kind to others? Go and understand the deaths buried beneath this land before you say such things to me!"

He cast a somewhat pitying glance at Harry. "It seems you have no intention of aligning with the origin of your bloodline. In that case, I can only wish you good luck! I hope you can still find traces of the Otherworld on this cursed land and make your way to Avalon, where you might find sanctuary!"

He steered his war chariot around, leaving only his back facing the people of the entire nation. "You should have a little time left. Go and bid farewell to your loved ones! The Druid's curse is coming!"

"Once the curse has ended, I shall return to claim this island!"

He realized there was absolutely no need to be angry at the people here. They were not going to survive anyway, which was perfectly fine by him.

The legendary hero departed from the city, leaving its inhabitants with immense confusion and bewilderment.

Those Irish people, Scottish people, and Welsh people who had understood his words were already terrified, frantically packing their belongings and contacting the nearest ships or planes.

Only the completely oblivious people of England stood blankly in place, watching the other party arrive and leave.

"Hahaha, even a Transcendent Being fears the might of Great Britain!" They puffed out their chests with pride.

Meanwhile, in the Parliament building not far away, as the translation of the encounter was completed, all the legislators almost simultaneously began packing their bags.

"Legislator John, where are you heading?"

"Ah, my elderly mother in France has invited me over for Christmas! And you, Legislator Harris?"

"Hahaha, I need to make a trip to New Zealand to pay respects to my late grandfather!"

"I must head to Rome!"

"I have to visit Egypt!"

"I think Ireland sounds rather lovely!"

These men completely ignored Sunak, who was still trying to mobilize the troops. Without a single thought of resistance, they all decided to go and hide from the impending storm first.

That was a curse proclaimed by a Transcendent Being! That Transcendent hero, who had originally intended to wage war against them, had actually fled without even looking back. What an utterly terrifying revelation!

Therefore, they had to run too!

Sunak looked somewhat helpless and deeply resentful. "You people! This might be the most dangerous moment in the history of the British Empire! As legislators of this nation, can you not stay behind to protect it?"

"Please do not pack your own belongings while saying such things, Mr. Prime Minister!"

The legislator's mocking voice became the final footnote in this parliamentary session.

These esteemed gentlemen had absolutely no intention of waiting around in this country to die like commoners.

As for this so-called national honor... what was that? Was it more important than their own lives?