City of Sin

Book 7, 120

Immediate Destruction

Miserable cries rang through the dining hall as Zabal’s soldiers fell to their knees, blood spurting through the gaps in their armour. The superior-grade equipment warped at a speed that was visible to the naked eye, creaking until it looked like primordial giants had kneaded it. It was difficult to even imagine what had happened to the poor bodies within, but there was no need to.

Even the mages and warlocks had it no better. Many of them wore metallic inner armour for protection, and even those that didn’t carried daggers as a contingency. Even the rings and other accessories on their bodies creaked, twisting the bones apart. With the broken magic, some of the disciples just burnt up from the shattered magic.

Zabal’s expression was frozen in the middle of his gloating, brain taking time to process the hellish scene before him. The miserable cries clogged his ears, and even as the scent of blood spread out he saw the cutlery on the table twist and start to dance around. The scene was terrifying, and it seemed like some voice was shouting a warning into his mind. However, he had already lost all ability to respond.

“Lyos?! Isn’t he dead?!” an old voice rang out, not loud but still enough to wake Zabal from his daze. He surveyed the surroundings, but found that everyone on his side had fallen to the floor and dyed the velvet carpet crimson.

Richard didn’t even bother with the Duke, looking towards the dome up above as he activated Field of Truth to capture a faint shadow disappear into the distance. He smirked to himself in acknowledgement; there was no way the pathetic man down below was capable of deploying such a large formation in one go.

However, that revealed the other enemy. Richard locked onto the legendary conscient with his own mind, forcing it into a battle of mental strength. A miserable cry rang through the sky as the conscient barely broke free, fleeing at twice the speed after having sustained heavy damage. Richard chuckled; this soul felt like an assassin, and they were normally amongst the weakest of will. Battles of the soul depended on determination, bloodlines, and sheer power; without significant natural advantages, one would need to train all three constantly.

For the legend to have remained hidden for so long and lose his calm after recognising Lyos’s ability meant his will was nothing great. Besides, he had only sent a conscient over and left his main body behind; caught in a surprise duel, it immediately lost.

But Richard wasn’t content with the small victory. While the enemy broke away, he still managed to leave an imprint that he could track in the conscient. It looked like a simple wound, but it served to distort the laws nearby to a minor extent that could only be noticed with the Field of Truth. Unless the opponent’s control of laws exceeded his ability to see through, he would be able to track the clone back.

Before that, he still had to take care of Zabal. The Duke seemed like he had stepped on fire as Richard looked at him, pulling out an orange shortsword and jumping on the long table to charge forward, “You’re a mage, but I’m a killer! DIE, YOU BASTARD!”

A trace of pity filled Richard’s gaze as he pulled out Moonlight, slashing down calmly. The attack wasn’t fancy, but it was fast and accurate. Before Zabal could even blink, a sword seemed to pop up out of nowhere. He raised his shortsword to block, but the blade just passed through both it and himself as though nothing had happened. Going stiff, he watched as the upper half of his blade just fell off.

“This... is... legendary... sword...” he muttered, falling down face-up. A ghastly red line appeared on his forehead and went down to his chin, tearing him apart as he continued to mutter, “I’m... sub...”

Blood suddenly burst out from the middle as the body split in two, Zabal’s last living moments spent watching a blue fireball destroy the dome that was meant to resist magic. The Duke just couldn’t understand how his legendary shortsword had failed to block the attack.

What Zabal didn’t know was that Moonlight had already risen back into the ranks of divine weapon, being indestructible and sharp enough to cut apart epic-grade weapons without issue. On the other hand, his own sword had been corrupted by Kingsteel and weakened to the point that it was barely even epic; the result was obvious.

Richard didn’t even care about whether his strike had killed, already in pursuit of the legend. Flying outside through the new hole in the roof, he was intercepted by three dragon disciples that were each comparable to a Norland saint. They closed the distance just like Zabal, but Moonlight just flashed a few more times and cut them all to pieces.

At this point, even Richard was startled. With the effects of Kingsteel layering atop Disintegrator, Moonlight’s power was unthinkable. These disciples weren’t much weaker than real Norland saints, but they couldn’t resist at all.

“The mighty Ramillon is eternal!” one of the disciples who was chopped at the waist shouted in draconic tongue. The man actually burnt up what remained of his life and seemed to obtain boundless energy, flying towards Richard with his hands spread out. However, a few more flashes of Moonlight quickly took care of that problem.

Richard looked at the disciple that had been struck again, sniffing something strong before he cursed, “Fucking lizards...”

This was the smell of a half-blood, which meant this disciple was actually a draconian with a weak bloodline. Human and dragon did not mix, their combination only making for brutal creatures that enjoyed blood, sex, and basically nothing else. Draconians tortured weaker beings for entertainment, and those with lesser bloodlines were the worst of them all. In many planes, they were considered the lowest of the low.

Richard had even seen absolute faith in the eyes of the half-blood, lacking even a hint of a fear of death. Such enemies were always the hardest to deal with. Cursing some more, he Activated Field of Truth and looked around to find a trail of sparkling light heading off northwest. These were disturbances left behind by his brand, clearly showing the direction the conscient had fled in.

Confirming that there was no more opposition near the mansion, he flew out and met up with the cloned brain along the way. While he could travel a few kilometres much faster, that would be a drain on mana and wasn’t sustainable. The drone was much better at a prolonged chase if he came to it.

Not long after Richard left, the sparks in the sky started to dim and fade away, the disturbed laws calming down. In only a few minutes, all traces would be lost even to someone whose perception was even greater than his.