Blood Elf Monarch

Chapter 238 - Carnage

The fearful screams of the Forlorn elves were swallowed by the roar of the red creature.

An 'abomination' would be an understatement to describe the horror lumbering in front of them. The creature was almost twice the size of a man, and it charged towards the crowds of elven warriors much faster than its size would suggest and seemingly without effort.

Its strength was so terrifying, each kick and punch would kill a warrior. When it started to use its claws, the situation turned even direr.

Clank!

The elves were proud of their weapons and the advancement of their spells, but none of that could scratch the monstrous creature.

Helpless, the elven warriors started to create some distance between them and the creature, leaving around a dozen nobles and the elders who dared to surround him.

One by one, they decided to cast their defensive spells. [Stone Skin], [Oak Flesh], and those without much defense in the first place cast [Slipstream] to help them dodge the monster's attacks.

Right now, the monster was standing atop piles of fallen elven warriors, and it bathed on their blood while playing with their flesh like they were ragdolls.

"This is utter madness!"

One of the elders, an earth element specialist, put his hands together and slammed them on the ground, casting a high tier spell [Stone Golem]. With the help of his massive spirit force, he created three golems at the same time. The newly created golems quickly stood as close to each other as possible, becoming a wall to protect them.

Now that they have something to hide behind, the nobles gained a bit of courage and started to cast their offensive spells.

[Leaves of Steel]

[Steam Lance]

[Earth Spikes]

Powerful as the nobles may be, the three spells were merely low-tier ones, and everything crumbled before they could pierce through Tristan's flesh. His red 'flesh' was less actual muscles, and more like a shell made of the same blood as what he used for his [Blood Synthesis].

In fact, the ineffective spells only stoked Tristan's rage.

With a massive, clawed hand, he grabbed one of the golems and swung it around to attack the other two. All three golems were around the same size as him, making his rage-induced feat all the more impressive.

He also used the golem's body like a shield to deflect the spells and arrows rushing towards him.

BAMM!!

The golem finally crumbled apart under the force of the spells, and Tristan did not waste time to grab another one to smash it against the other. When the golem started to break under his relentless swinging, he threw the remains towards the retreating elven warriors.

In his mind, everything felt like a fun pastime, each kill felt like squishing ants, but now playtime is over. He looked around, trying to search for the Forlorn prince, and found him standing right behind the crowds.

When he roared at the direction of the prince, His courage seemed to have left him.

"Stop him! Kill him!"

The prince kept shouting, without regard for the lives of the terrified warriors and elders. With each second that passed, the prince became more unsure he could defeat this monster.

There must be some limit to this atrocity! No creature with limitless strength could exist!

Right as the prince thought so, his theory was proven true unbeknownst to him, as a notification appeared in Tristan's mind.

[Blood Essence consumption has increased drastically.]

Usually, such a message would prompt him to stop, for without the blood essence, he literally would not be able to live. But this time, his new memories allowed him to anticipate what happened. The transformation would give him a massive boost of power, but with it, comes high consumption of blood essence.

Whenever he killed his prey, he made sure to extract their blood with his touch, but right now there were too many distractions and too many targets for him to kill, which means he could no longer keep up with the extraction.

Taking a glance at his system was enough to tell him how his blood essence dropped by the dozens with the passing of seconds.

Right as he was busy thinking, three elders decided it was time to join the fray. Their stances were straight and focused, an indication that they are combat specialists carrying what appears to be tier 4 weapons.

The powerful weapons were what gave them confidence.

Splat!

Right as Tristan tried to extend his right hand to grab one of the elders' swords, another moved quickly and stabbed him, creating a large wound on his waist. Before Tristan could fully process the throbbing pain, he felt another attack from his back piercing him on the left shoulder.

Roarrrr!

Thanks to his transformation, his strength and durability had massively increased, but when he bled due to attacks from a powerful weapon, the pain could still be felt no matter how dulled it is.

Such simple wounds were far from enough to kill him, of course, but the fact that he could be wounded brought a massive relief to the elven warriors who could only watch from afar.

However, thinking this would mark the victory of the Forlorn elves would be foolish, for Tristan had not revealed all his abilities yet.

The three of them tried to jump and dash forward together again to unleash another combined attack, but when they were a few steps away from him, half a dozen of tentacle-like appendages made of blood emerged from his body.

Each tentacle was made of throbbing flesh and blood, coupled with small, knife-like spikes at the end. In addition they are quite agile, giving Tristan more arms to fight the elves with.

Splat!

One of the elders decided to cast a sword battle art.

[Spinning Blade]

The tier 4 sword on his hand swung in a circular motion, enabling him to cut off all the tentacles that were coming at him.

It was indeed a powerful sword art, but afterwards, as the elder took a breather; one blood tentacle had already moved around his body and grabbed him. The elder elf screamed in unbridled fear as Tristan tied him up, hung the warrior upside down, and brought him face to face with Tristan's terrifying jaws.

The red creature opened its mouth and bit the warrior's neck off in one sickening crunch. As it chewed, the elder's head rolled on the suddenly quiet place.

Like an omen of what would come to pass, the dead elder's expression was frozen in terror, with permanently bulged eyes serving as proof of the fear carved into him moments before death.