Dungeon of Pride, Laplace

Chapter 61: Might of the Advanced Magic



Chapter 61: Might of the Advanced Magic

Chapter 61: Might of the Advanced Magic

The sword drew a beautiful wide arc as it cut open the space itself. With their trembling eyes, Mike and Berd saw the marsh behind them cleanly split into two.

A crimson cut spread across the marsh and divided it into two, smoke continually rising from it showcasing its intense heat. Flames started surging inside the duo’s body until the cut made by the sword erupted with crimson light bisecting them into two.

Their eyes slowly lost focus and became dim before their bodies split in half, blood spraying like a fountain as they fell into the marsh forever becoming the nourishment of the dungeon. Even until the moment they died, they were in disbelief, unresigned to their fate.

Gourd who was fighting the Bloodthorn Demonic Warhorse not far away, kept getting battered and beaten by it no matter how he tried to fight back. “UAAAAAH [Fire Breath]” he opened his jaws wide as tongues of fire sprayed out towards the warhorse.

The Bloodthorn Demonic Warhorse swiftly dodged the fire breath and closed the gap before using its crimson antler-like horns to stab Gourd. The horns on its head were its real weapon so powerful that even those higher rank than it could be pierced without any resistance. However, the real use of the crimson antlers was its Bloodthorn ability.

Realising the danger within the horns, Gourd’s instinct screamed at him to dodge the attack. He hurriedly flapped his wings and moved his tanky frame out of the trajectory of the attack and quickly backed off.

After distancing himself from the Bloodthorn Demonic Warhorse, he sighed in relief. The crimson horn of the warhorse was giving him a bad feeling and his senses continuously alerted him of danger whenever he looked at it. Though Gourd did not know if they would be able to pierce his rugged skin, he sure as hell did not want to experiment it on his body.

Not after there were two additional hoof prints on his skin.

Even though he felt indignant to admit it, he was not its match in a direct confrontation. His repeated failures to even land a blow on it, told him that. Even though Gourd was not its match, he was still unresigned to just back out. He was from the ogre race which was known for their powerful physique and ferocity.

Not to mention he was a variant much more powerful than the average person from his tribe. His sense of pride for being someone from the ogre race would never allow him to run away from a battle.

Just when Gourd thought that he had successfully dodged the horns, a tinge of pain suddenly assaulted him. Looking at the area when the pain originated from, to his shock he immediately discovered a hole had been pierced in his abdomen.

Strange crimson markings appeared around the wound; however, no blood leaked out even though there was a big hole now in his abdomen. ‘How is this possible, I clearly dodged the attack previously’ he thought as he looked at the warhorse before widening his eyes to their limit.

“what the hell is that?” Gourd couldn’t help but comment slack-jawed.

The crimson antlers of the Bloodthorn Demonic warhorse moved like a whip and appeared like a sentient being that had a life of its own. The antlers moved as if alive and reverted back to their original form.

While he was in a daze, two screams rang out across the whole floor. Turning around, Gourd watched as the two Demon Barons who were fighting Simon were reduced into nothing but beaten dogs howling in agony as they licked their wounds.

Before the duo could even organise themselves, he saw the enemy holding a crimson sword that appeared in his hands tearing through the space. The blade lit up with a brilliant crimson light so mighty that even gave him a sense of dread that was born from his soul as the enemy swung it in a wide arc, cleaving Mike and Berd along with the marsh in half. The scene was so terrifying that it left Gourd in a state of disbelief.

“E-Eh? Wha… you… what… puah” while he was distracted, he left a tiny opening. Utilising that, the demonic warhorse pierced him with its bloodthorns once again. Additional wounds appeared on his body but strangely no blood spurted out. How was that possible? his body was not bleeding anymore.

Gelgar was so baffled by the scene that unfolded one after the other that he couldn’t believe it no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes. How can that lowborn demon be so strong… wasn’t he a mere Demon Baron? Even when he used Analysis on him, it ended up giving him no information at all.

“Analysis was blocked?” Gelgar thought that he was going insane. After entering this goddamn dungeon, everything that happened didn’t make sense anymore.

His mind spun around as he saw the corpses of his two subordinates that have served him for so many years, split in half as they fell into the marsh. Becoming one with the many corpses that littered there.

“W-what happened…? What did you do?” without even knowing, he screamed out loud. If only Gelgar could set aside his prejudice and sense the power released by Simon, you would have understood that Simon was no mere Demon Baron. However, his mind was already disorganised and wasn’t lucid enough to think clearly.

Simon arched his eyebrows as he finally turned around to look at Gelgar “What happened you ask?”, a crimson light flashed on his eyes as he said, “the same thing that is gonna happen to you”.

Gelgar had an incredulous look that told that he was unwilling or unable believe what happened. He bit on his lips as blood flowed inside his mouth and assaulted his sense with a taste of iron. With bulging eyes and trembling body, he pointed at Simon and barked out loud “What did you do? What kind of trickery did you use? You lowborn demon what was that sword”.

There was no way a lowborn Demon Baron like him could defeat his subordinates in a fair fight. That’s right, he must have used some underhanded methods to kill them like those mushrooms. Gelgar who suffered repeated setbacks in the hands of Simon was about to have a mental breakdown.


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