Chapter 1254: Vile
Where? The thought thundered in their heads. But before they could ponder the question, flashes of light ignited at the corners of their vision.
They turned, and saw four arrows, wreathed in a staggering amount of mana, screaming toward each of them.
Ozeroth grinned, brandishing his twin hammers.
Aric reached for his broadsword, swinging it to the side.
Thunder crackled around Magnus’ body, his figure remaining undaunted.
Zenon dropped into a stance, bracing himself for battle.
Four collisions detonated in the hall as each of them met the incoming arrow with an attack of their own.
A blast that shattered pillars in all directions rippled out, engulfing the entire space in a thick haze.
Through the haze, Ozeroth took a heavy stomp that rumbled the ground, sending a shockwave blasting out.
The haze cleared, just in time for their eyes to land on a massive hammer plummeting towards Ozeroth, as though the sky itself was collapsing.
The expressions of Magnus, Aric, and Zenon turned cold. Just as they were each about to move, figures blitzed into the corners of their vision. Their eyes narrowed.
An axe screamed toward Magnus’ neck. A broadsword parted the air toward Aric. Another arrow appeared inches away from piercing through Zenon.
Their weapons flashed before thought could form.
Their concussive collision shook the cave. The ground cracked violently, more pillars crumbled, stone and dust raining down from above.
And yet, despite the devastation, no sound rippled out.
The hall was drenched in a thick haze. Flashes of sparks lit up the space as steel met steel, each side straining to gain the upper hand.
The brief clash granted the group just enough time to see their attackers.
They were women, dressed like Amazonian warriors of legend.
Silver armor glinted faintly through the smoke, breastplates molded for mobility and protection, vambraces etched with battle patterns.
Their gazes, however, carried a bloodlust so raw it soaked the air, chilled the soul. There was no doubt, they were here for blood.
Despite the intensity of the clash, the Eldorians stole glances toward their front, toward the spirit they were meant to protect.
Ozeroth was down on one knee, teeth gritted as he fought to hold back the massive hammer above him. He had met the strike head on with his own, an act he instantly regretted.
For a brief second, Ozeroth had forgotten. Forgotten that he’d lost 40% of his strength. And with the otherworlders being at the very cap of the lower planes, supposedly even stronger than Eldoralth, he had been caught off guard. Both by the weight of the strike… and by the unfamiliarity of his current weakness.
“You vile scum. I will kill you.”
Ozeroth didn’t know how, but he heard the words, dripping with venom. His eyes fixed forward, and he saw her. A woman, dressed like the others. A flicker of realization slammed into him.
Suddenly, the irritation that had been boiling in his chest vanished, replaced by something else entirely. Excitement.
Ozeroth grinned.
“It’s you,” he said. There was no way he’d forget the woman he had spanked during the last scenario.
“Have you come here for another lesson?”
His words didn’t sound out, but reading lips was trivial for beings at their level. Her face twisted into pure rage.
“You bastard!” she thundered.
In the next moment, her mana surged.
“I weigh the world!” she declared, and Ozeroth felt an unimaginable pressure slam into him, sending him hurtling backward at terrifying speed.
The expressions of the Eldorians darkened.
Zenon moved first. His attack already blocked, with no opponent in front of him, he blurred forward, tearing toward the hammer wielding woman before she could strike again, his body already transforming.
But he had barely crossed halfway before a storm of lethal arrows screamed toward him from all directions.
His gaze hardened, and he had no choice but to pause and deal with the barrage. A moment was all it took.
The woman took full advantage, shooting forward, straight for Ozeroth’s figure.
Magnus and Aric detonated as they unleashed their auras. Lightning crackled. Killing intent saturated the air.
The gazes of their opponents narrowed as they responded in kind. Their own auras exploded.
Weapons flashed once more, and shockwaves ripped through the hall again.
As the battle raged on, Eldoralth’s god was nowhere near it. Instead, Atticus had appeared far from the clash, having no intention of interfering.
He had meant it when he called himself a wild card.
While he had followed them at the beginning, Atticus had been waiting for the right moment to separate from the group.
That moment had arrived the instant those women launched their ambush.
The plan he had come up with was simple. If he didn’t find a king while moving with the group, then instead of wandering around alone, where ambushes were likely, he would wait until his group clashed with another.
And once that happened, he would ignore everything else and go straight after their king. No matter who it was.
Atticus now moved swiftly, eyes fixed ahead as he searched. He was still within the same hall, just farther in. All around him were towering pillars and nothing else. But Atticus could see it, the light.
The bright golden light that marked the presence of a king.
Only, the golden light was flickering madly across the space, moving at insane speeds. Atticus couldn’t even see the actual figure. Just the light, darting around like a blur.
He was just about to release his will and engulf the space, when the sound of a feminine voice reached his ears.
“You’re that child god,” the voice said, disdain thick in every syllable.
Atticus didn’t respond. He simply scanned the area, frowning.
Something was off. He couldn’t locate it. His ears told him the voice was coming from everywhere. His eyes lied to him. The mana in the air lied too.
“I had assumed,” the voice continued, calm and cold, “that being a child, at least, would absolve you of the vile deeds of men. But I was wrong.”
Atticus felt it. The atmosphere shifted, growing colder.
“I was wrong. The actions of men under a ruler’s command reflect the nature of the ruler himself. To dare desecrate the buttocks of one of my warriors… as his leader, you too will answer for that fool’s crimes.”
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