The demon’s invisible maw closed an inch away from his throat. Sparing a glance at Derek, who was still dealing with the climbing Dah’Khasses, Hadjar turned into a plume of black fog and charged his opponent. The Black Blade struck the guard’s shoulder. The Dah’Khass reacted by bringing his dagger up to try and block any further attacks, but Hadjar twisted his wrist slightly, and the slash, followed by a shadowy crescent, sank between the demon’s ribs.
The blade immediately bit into the demon’s energy body, making him snarl and stagger. He tried to cut Hadjar with his dagger, but his movements were so predictable that an experienced swordsman like Hadjar didn’t even have to dodge. Twisting his body slightly, he evaded the attack and, clenching his left fist, rammed it into the demon’s stomach. Before the Wolf Broth, the punch wouldn’t have done any significant damage, but after his training at the waterfall, Hadjar was physically stronger than most Heaven Soldiers.
The Dah’Khass bent forward and coughed. Blood spilled across the tiles, dying them an acid green. Hadjar turned his blade around and held it in a reverse grip. With a single slash, he cut off the demon’s head.
He impaled the mauled body with his sword, allowing the Black Blade to feast on the dead demon’s Spirit. To his recently empowered blade, this was but a drop in a truly gigantic bucket, one that would require nothing short of a flood to be filled, but Hadjar wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity to get even a tiny bit closer to his goal.
Since he’d just finished off his last opponent, Hadjar ran over to help Steppe Fang, who was stuck in a deadly fight against the Dah’Khass at the Lord level. The two flailed their weapons around in a wild, never-ending dance, spilling blood and sending chunks of flesh flying.
Steppe Fang had never looked more like his Spirit than he did now. Pondering how he could help the orc, Hadjar looked around, stopping for a moment to soak in the utter ridiculousness of what was going on. It seemed strange even to him. There were only three of them here, fighting the demons, and one of them barely qualified. The simple Lascanian disciple of the small ‘Red Mule’ school had admittedly taken some orc concoction, but even in that state, he would hardly be able to apply to ‘The Holy Sky’ School and hope to pass any test, so… Hadjar was also under no illusions about himself: he might be stronger than many other humans, but he was far from the strongest. And as for Steppe Fang… There were many orcs far more powerful than he was…
Snapping out of his morose thoughts, Hadjar deflected a fragment of the Dah’Khass’ attack. Both the demon and Steppe Fang paused for a moment. Taking advantage of the situation, Hadjar turned into a plume of black fog and rammed into the unsuspecting demon with his shoulder.
Pushing against him, Hadjar stretched his cloak out toward Steppe Fang, who, guessing what his friend had in mind, grabbed it by the edge. With a powerful swing, Hadjar sent him flying past the demon. Grinning wildly, a fierce glint in his eyes, Steppe Fang swung an axe wrapped in the energy of his Call and cut off the demon’s legs. The Dah’Khass Lord started to fall.
“Black Wind!” Hadjar shouted as he soared into the sky.
His blade, like a swooping dragon, broke both the demon’s body and the roof. It created such a powerful stream of wind and energy that it cut down any demons that had managed to get past Derek. The panting Lascanian, whose veins had returned to normal, pressed his back against the wall of a half-destroyed tower and sank to the floor.
“Thank you,” he mouthed.
It was clear that he could do nothing else in the state he was currently in. The young man was still conscious only thanks to his burning desire for revenge and pure spite.
The roof, now dyed red and green, was finally silent. Hadjar went over to Steppe Fang and helped him up. The Call’s energy swirled around the stub that had once been his left arm, keeping the orc from bleeding out.
“How are you?” Hadjar asked and almost laughed at the stupidity of his own question.
“Alive.” Steppe Fang breathed out. “And you?”
Hadjar only then realized that, in addition to the wound on his hip, there was also a hole in his already wounded left side. The Lord level demon had been the strongest guard. Before he’d died to the Black Blade, he’d managed to hurt Hadjar. If not for his Call, he would be bleeding out right now.
“I’m also alive.”
Sharing a grim look and a determined nod, they turned toward the platform.
The hole in the veil had grown bigger. The dark clouds and the iridescent lightning danced along its edges.
The King wasn’t stupid.
If he’d removed the veil completely, the serpents would’ve dived down and turned the gorge into their nest. Not even a Nameless would be able to deal with them if that happened.
The crimson cocoon pulsed in the center of the beam of moonlight shining through the hole in the veil. Judging by its constant shifting about, the ritual was still happening inside of it. Hadjar didn’t want to imagine what that must’ve looked like.
“Are you ready?” Hadjar asked Steppe Fang and pulled the last grenade out of his spatial ring.
“Ready.” The orc nodded, wiping away blood that was leaking from the corners of his mouth.
With an effort of will, Hadjar flung the grenade at the cocoon. Thanks to the ore fragments, it broke through the veil that protected the floating platform. Before the hole could close back up, Hadjar sent a stream of energy reinforced by the ‘Spring Wind’ stance after it.
Just as the explosion was about to go off, a pale hand popped out of the cocoon. It grabbed the grenade and squeezed, turning it into a rain of glittering dust. The stream of energy that had been following it disappeared in a haze. The cocoon spread out, assuming the form of a scarlet and black cloak. The King, holding Irma by the waist, landed on the platform. A faint, dreamy smile was dancing on his lips.
“Nice try, little hunters,” he said in a honeyed voice. “But you’re too late.”
He didn’t move at all, but all three of them suddenly felt weak. They were then lifted off the ground and forced to float over to him.
“What a strange bunch you three are!” The King sniffed each of them. “An orc from the Steppenwolf Tribe. The Chief’s son, no less.”
Hadjar looked at Steppe Fang in surprise. He’s the son of Bear’s Rage?
“I’ve come to avenge my brother!”
“I didn’t kill your brother,” the King said. “Though I will grant you that he’s somewhere in my fields. You’ll join him soon enough, don’t you worry.”
Steppe Fang closed his mouth. Hadjar guessed that the orc wouldn’t be able to speak unless the King allowed him to.
“A Lascanian…”
“You killed my fiancée!”
“I did.” The King shrugged. Derek, too, was then forced to shut his mouth.
The King and Hadjar stared at each other for a long moment.
“And a descendant of the Enemy.” The King smiled. “If you had just asked, I would’ve made you the guest of honor. Not all demons hate the Black General.”
“As if.”
“It’s a pity.” The King sighed. “You know, I think Darnassus won’t really mind losing a province on the far west edge of its borders.”
Derek’s eyes flashed. He clearly wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
“Oh, the Lascanian didn’t know, did he?” The King’s smile widened. “I do wonder how mortal enemies managed to find common ground…”
Hadjar said nothing.
“Well, it’s a pity that your plan failed.” the King hugged Irma, who, still lovestruck, continued to cling to him. “I really-”
An explosion came from beneath the platform. It was another grenade, one that was sadly not as powerful as the one that had come before it. When the dust cleared, Irma, blinking rapidly, reached with trembling hands to cup the King’s face.
“My beloved,” she whispered, but could say no more as blood began to fill her throat.
“Everything is still going according to
plan, Your Majesty.”
Then the Black Blade pierced the girl’s heart, instantly turning her into a dried out husk.
“NO!” A cry rang out. It was no longer human, and instead resembled the desperate howl of a wounded beast.
Chapter 618
The King transformed rapidly: the gorgeous young man any woman would’ve been captivated by disappeared, turning into a monster that mothers would scare their children with. His white hair curled into three horns — one jutting out from each of his temples, and one right in the middle of his forehead. They emitted steady pulses of light. His red and black cloak swung open and spread out, turning into four wings coming out of his back. The King had an almost eighteen-foot wingspan. Sharp, steel claws erupted from his previously delicate hands. His legs, cracking as they did so, transformed as well, lengthening and thickening, and his feet grew enormous, the toenails now frighteningly sharp. Almost as if he were mocking humanity itself, the demon kept his perfectly handsome face. It looked like a mask glued to his now elongated skull and had a grimace of extreme hatred etched into it.
“I WILL FEAST ON YOUR ENTRAILS!” The monster roared.
Hadjar was struck by such an enormous wave of power that he flew through the air like a crossbow bolt and slammed into a tower. So did Steppe Fang. The building shattered. Huge chunks of stone rained down on the roof. Derek flew off the roof entirely.
Hadjar didn’t have time to worry about the young man’s fate, but he hoped that he would survive.
After landing on the tiles, Hadjar jumped back up to his feet immediately. Putting a quarter of the energy inside his Core into the attack, he swung. A huge dragon fang made up of black, cutting energy rushed to meet another wave of the King’s energy. Thirty feet long and no thicker than a hand, it looked like a swath of darkness that had been torn from the sky and was now being wielded as a weapon.
A wave of wild, unbridled power, capable of shaking a mountain range, was split in half. One of them shot up into the sky and exploded in the clouds, dispersing them and revealing the huge, star-like eye of one giant winged serpent.
As the clouds moved back, the other half of the energy wave tore through the stone walls and hit the mountain behind them. It carved a huge hole in it, and slabs of stone rained down on the army of zombies.
“Stick to the plan!” Hadjar shouted.
Turning into a plume of black fog that had the outline of a dragon visible within it, Hadjar covered a distance of more than a hundred yards in just a few moments. Using the falling fragments of the tower as stepping stones to move through the air, he dodged a dozen of the King’s sonic bombs. He was a Nameless, but his attacks didn’t really differ from that of his guards. He only stood out in terms of the sheer amount of power he could put into them.
“Damn it!” Hadjar swore as he dodged yet another sonic blast.
The sound bomb, which was as wide around as a carriage wheel, smashed into the masonry around them. There was a deafening explosion, and then a miniature dot appeared in the air, which sucked in tons of rock. The dot disappeared, but there was now a spherical gap of incredible size in the masonry. An explosive wave struck Hadjar from the side. Cutting through it with his sword, Hadjar sent out a crescent of energy. It decapitated two Dah’Khasses that had been climbing up to the roof. Buffeted by the wind, Hadjar ducked between two fragments of the destroyed tower. Flipping over in the air, he ran across a huge falling stone, then pushed off it and swung his cloak with an effort of will. It stretched out into a wide ribbon of black fog, wrapped itself around the falling stone behind Hadjar, and sent it flying toward the King like a slingshot. In less than a heartbeat, Hadjar swung six times. Each of his swings made a thin, long incision that crushed the stones and cut them into sharp projectiles. With an effort of will, Hadjar sent them flying as well. He jumped on the longest and sturdiest one. Adjusting his trajectory with his will and the ‘Wind’ stance, he flew through the air toward the King.
“I’LL KILL YOU!” The demon roared.
His roar created a sound wave that shattered the stone projectiles shielding Hadjar and tore a hole in the platform upon which the King had recently been standing. Now he hovered in the air, flapping his huge wings above a deep, dark hole.
Hadjar sensed the danger, but couldn’t react in time. A huge maw that could’ve swallowed the entire bow of the ‘Drunken Goose’ appeared right in front of him. Fortunately, even if he was physically too slow, Hadjar managed to send a short pulse of power out in front of him thanks to his strengthened meridians.
The energy pushed him back and off the stone projectile he was riding. Hadjar landed on his back and watched the large stone disappearing into the fanged maw that was barely visible to the naked eye.
“How do you like that for a snack, you-”
Hadjar didn’t even get to finish his taunt before the King’s maw closed around the stone. It easily smashed it to pieces.
His Call’s black cloak swirled into a wide ribbon once again and, latching on to the edge of the hole, served as a kind of anchoring point. Hadjar rolled over on the tiles and dropped to one knee, holding his sword out in front of him. Holding it in his right hand, he pressed his left to the edge of the blade. The stance was a defensive one, devoid of any real weak points.
The King, an ocean of madness raging in his blue eyes, held out his arms. Bone spears erupted out of his wrists, cutting through his skin and spilling acidic, green blood that burned the stones of the roof. The demon roared, creating another sound wave. It spread out, destroying the weak Dah’Khasses and the zombies before finally colliding with a screaming Hadjar. He wasn’t shouting in pain, but trying to reproduce the old battle cry of the Moon army. A pillar of black energy surged up in front of Hadjar. It contained a good bit of his power and the deep mysteries of the Sword he’d mastered. If any swordsmen had been around to witness this fight, they would’ve said that this attack had surely come from an elite Spirit Knight at the advanced stage, born and raised in a clan of swordsmen. The sound wave split in half once more and brought down several towers behind Hadjar, but one of the bone spears, only slightly chipped, ripped through the pillar of black energy. It lost a bit of speed but still broke through his Call’s cloak.
Hadjar gritted his teeth. The spear that had pierced his previously injured left side shattered the masonry. Without stopping there, it tore through the entire castle, and then crashed into the gorge. The explosion created an enormous pit. Hundreds, even thousands, of the zombies standing nearby instantly turned to dust. There was nothing left of them and their artifact armor.
“By the High Heavens!” Hadjar whispered.
The spear, by some miracle, hadn’t touched his energy body, and the physical wound, thanks to the dragon’s blood coursing through his veins and the Wolf Broth, was already starting to heal.
[5 days, 14 hours, 16 minutes, and 20... 19... 18... seconds left until complete reconfiguration]
Hadjar swore mentally. Right now, he really needed the trick that the neural network had pulled off in his battle against the Patriarch of ‘The Black Gates’ sect.
“WRETCHED BAG OF FLESH!” The demon continued to roar.
Dozens of bone spears shot out of his arms. Hadjar, turning into a plume of black fog, began playing a game of tag with death.
Chapter 619
Hadjar dodged yet another spear and raced across the roof toward the towers. The spears, piercing through the roof and exploding in the distant gorge, followed him. They rained down all around Hadjar, trying to turn him into a handful of dust.
Hadjar ran across the roof with such immense speed that the tiles his feet touched soared into the sky in his wake. Like a young dragon facing a more powerful foe, he wound his way through the towers. Every single one of the King’s spears turned them into rubble as they missed their mark by mere inches. They mowed down the towers like scythes, bringing them down on the Palace and breaking its roof and walls.
Just as Hadjar had planned, the demon had suffered
a serious soul wound. During his battle with Sunshine Sankesh, Hadjar had learned that even the most powerful cultivator could become greatly weakened because of them. Hadjar had had no idea if the same principle applied to demons, but had hoped that thwarting the ritual would lead to something similar. However, he hadn’t wanted to foil it in such a cruel way…
Hadjar’s thoughts were interrupted by the whistling of another spear. Huddled behind one of the towers, calming his breath, Hadjar watched the tower right next to his fall with a shudder. The huge stone structure, knocked down by the bone spear, disappeared into the hole it had created in the roof.
The spear, continuing on, exploded somewhere in the gorge, turning another thousand zombies into little more than dust. Had Hadjar been able to keep this up for a month, the King might’ve destroyed most of his army.
“Come on.” Hadjar, wrapped in the cloak of black fog, poked the tip of the Black Blade out from behind the wall. He watched the King, who was still hovering above the destroyed platform. “Keep looking for me.”
“WHERE ARE YOU, HUMAN?” The demon roared.
He was equal in power to a Nameless, but only in terms of the amount of energy he wielded, nothing more. Tracking wasn’t exactly the strong suit of the Dah’Khasses, so his Call was able to hide Hadjar from the monster. Steppe Fang, following their plan, was also hiding somewhere.
“Come on,” Hadjar whispered. “Come-”
But the King wasn’t planning to chase after him. Instead, he suddenly imitated Derek’s actions from before. He brought his hands together, then spread them outward. There was an arc of scarlet light flitting between them instead of daggers.
“That’s not good.”
“DIE!”
With another demonic roar, the scarlet light, painfully reminiscent of the Queen’s own ray of energy, exploded from his hands. Instantly lengthening, it raced toward the towers. Every obstacle it encountered was easily obliterated. Dozens of towers collapsed, landing on the roof, shattering it and sinking down into the castle’s passageways.
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 33