Grand Magus-level figures were never ordinary.
Each of them had walked their own path for hundreds, even thousands of years, accumulating experience, surviving countless battles, and grasping opportunities that shaped them into what they had beco. They carried a unique foundation built from fortune, technique, and ruthless determination. So, like Skylark, relied on rare high-grade treasures and sinister arts, turning every battle into a calculated trap. Others, like Maldrin, pursued forbidden paths, drawing upon demonic entities to reshape their bodies and amplify their power beyond natural limits.
Even the others were not simple.
Through his divine sense, his perception swept across the battlefield, analyzing every movent, every shift in montum.
To his right-
Madam Butcher, though appearing to rely purely on brute strength and physical refinent, carried sothing deeper. Each ti she swung her butcher blade, a faint three-colored sigil flickered upon her forehead, and her attacks erupted with layered flas-red, blue, and yellow-intertwining into sothing far more complex than ordinary fire. It was not rely power, but a technique-one that enhanced every strike with destructive amplification.
Despite the ferocity of Madam Butcher's assault, Morgana remained firmly in control of the battle, her presence dominating the skies above.
Her cosmic flas burned differently.
They were purer.
Denser.
Each ti Madam Butcher's tri-colored blaze surged forward, Morgana t it head-on, her claws wreathed in radiant fire that tore through the layered flas, dispersing them into harmless embers.
On the far left, however, the situation was far less favorable.
Fjolnir was being pushed onto the defensive.
Their clash had shifted deeper into the muddy forest, where the bald man- known as the Phantom Blade-held a clear advantage. His strength did not co from raw power, but from flawless movent. His body slipped through shadows with uncanny precision, every step deliberate, every motion perfectly tid. Paired with his mastery of blades, he beca an exceptionally dangerous opponent, one who left Fjolnir struggling to keep up. Unfortunately-
Ery could not intervene.
Because he found himself montarily held by the monstrous figure before him.
BAMMM!!!
The six-ard demon ascended forward with overwhelming force, and the impact that followed was nothing short of brutal. Maldrin's sheer strength bulldozed Ery backward, sending him skidding across the swamp as mud, stone, and shattered terrain were torn apart beneath his feet. The force did not stop there; it carried him straight into a rocky hill behind, where his body collided with explosive impact.
The hillside shattered instantly.
Rubble erupted outward in all directions as Ery was buried beneath broken stone and debris, the shockwave rippling across the battlefield.
"Urrghh... that actually hurt."
His voice ca from within the collapsed rock as he pushed himself upward, his body rising through the rubble with controlled strength. Stones slid off his shoulders as he brushed them aside, his expression tightening slightly. The blow had been heavy-far heavier than before-but far from enough to seriously injure him.
However-
He was given no ti to recover.
Before he could even steady his breathing, Skylark's follow-up attack arrived. The barbed chain whip shot forward like a living serpent, its dark energy writhing as it coiled around Ery's left arm. The hooked barbs pierced into his flesh instantly, tightening with malicious intent as the weapon constricted, attempting to crush bone and tear muscle apart in one motion.
At the sa ti-
Maldrin charged again.
The six-ard demon closed the distance with terrifying speed, his massive fra shaking the ground with each step. All three of his heads roared in unison, their combined killing intent crashing forward as his claws readied to strike once more.
Bound.
Under pressure.
Yet Ery remained calm.
"If you insist on comparing muscles..." he said quietly, his gaze steady despite the situation. "Then let's do it."
A wisp of Khaos energy ignited within him, awakening the primal beast.
But, Instead of unleashing his full transformation, he focused the power into his free right arm, compressing it with precise control. Muscles expanded violently, swelling to nearly twice their size as veins pulsed with primal force, the air around his arm trembling under the pressure.
The ground beneath him cracked.
Energy gathered.
Condensed.
Then-
He struck.
The punch exploded forward, carrying with it the phantom roar of the stellar beasts. The air distorted under the pressure as the strike collided directly with
Maldrin's incoming claws.
BOOM!!!
The result was imdiate.
Maldrin's demonic limbs crushed upon impact, his claws snapping apart like brittle twigs as blood erupted into the air.
"ARRRGHHH!!!"
The roar that followed was filled with shock and pain.
Ery felt a surge of exhilaration rise within him as the power coursing
through his arm responded exactly as he intended.
With Typhon's guidance, he learned to control his primal beast force, no longer allowing it to erupt wildly, but instead compressing and directing it into precise, devastating strikes. The difference was unmistakable, and in that mont, he could clearly feel the results of his training.
Without hesitation, he turned toward the stunned Skylark, tightening his grip on the chain before yanking it violently. The green-skinned man was dragged forward, completely thrown off balance as his body was pulled directly into Ery's range, his earlier composure replaced by shock.
A second fist followed imdiately.
"NOOOO!!"
The cry ca too late to matter.
Even Maldrin, in his monstrous demonic form, had failed to endure such a strike, and Skylark-caught off guard and already at a disadvantage-stood no
chance.
BAAMM!!
Ery's punch crashed into his chest with overwhelming force, and in that instant, the man's body split apart, torn cleanly in two as flesh and bone ruptured under the impact. Blood burst outward in a violent spray, staining the air as his lower half was completely obliterated.
Only his upper torso remained, hanging grotesquely as his hands continued to clutch the chain with unnatural stubbornness. Blood poured from his mouth in thick streams, his body trembling violently, yet his grip did not loosen.
"Interesting..."
Ery muttered under his breath as he pulled the half-body closer, his hand rising to seize Skylark by the neck. There was no urgency in his movent now, only calm control, as he prepared to finish the man with a final strike.
But sothing was wrong.
Skylark smiled.
It was faint, twisted, and entirely out of place for soone in his condition, and before Ery could fully process it, the man suddenly opened his mouth.
A concealed needle shot forward at terrifying speed.
At such a close distance, the attack was nearly impossible to avoid, its trajectory aid directly at Ery's forehead with lethal precision. For most Grand Magus, it would have been an unavoidable death sentence.
But Ery was not most.
In that fraction of a second, his eyes flared with light as his ntal power
surged outward.
[Spectral Gaze]
An invisible force intercepting the projectile mid-flight. The needle's path
shifted just enough, grazing past his head before disappearing into the distance,
missing him by the narrowest of margins.
"Nice try..."
His voice carried a cold edge as he raised his arm once more, ready to end the
man without further delay.
Then-
His divine sense erupted in warning.
A sudden, overwhelming danger flooded his perception, sharp and imdiate,
leaving no room for hesitation.
The elderly man-
Had vanished.
In the next instant, he was already behind Ery, his presence silent yet
suffocating. The tattoos along his arm glowed with an eerie light, writhing as though alive before transforming into half a dozen serpents. Each one lunged
forward with terrifying speed, their fangs aid directly at Ery's back, their movents precise and deadly.
The sudden attack forced him to abandon his strike. Ery released Skylark
instantly and twisted his body, spatial energy bending around him as he narrowly evaded the incoming assault. The serpents tore through the space he had just occupied, their energy distorting the air as they passed. "Hmph... you are not an ordinary Grand Magus indeed," the elderly man uttered
at last, his voice calm and asured as the serpents coiled along his limb, still writhing with unnatural life.
At the sa ti, Maldrin had already risen once more, his demonic body
recovering rapidly as his aura ascended again.
"I am ashad that we need your assistance, Master..." he said through
clenched teeth, his voice carrying both frustration and unwilling respect.
The word struck Ery imdiately. Master.
So the rumors were true.
There had always been whispers of a hidden expert guiding the Midnight
Brotherhood from the shadows, soone powerful enough to command
figures like Maldrin and Varkul, yet never revealing himself.
And now- That figure stood before him.
Ery exhaled slowly, his gaze hardening as he recalculated the situation. At
the very least, he had removed one opponent from the field, reducing their numbers and shifting the balance slightly in his favor.
Or so he thought.
Because in the next mont, sothing caught his attention, causing his
expression to tighten.
Skylark's remains moved.
The severed upper torso began to writhe unnaturally, flesh twisting and bubbling as if sothing beneath it struggled to break free. From the torn edges, tendrils of living tissue burst outward, wriggling and expanding, rapidly
forming new structure where nothing should exist. Bone extended.
Muscle wove itself together.
Flesh sealed over the grotesque reconstruction.
Within seconds, a new lower body ford, completing itself in a horrifying
display of regeneration that defied natural law. And then-
Skylark stood once more.
Although there was a significant decrease in his power, the green-skinned man
had completely recovered.
"...Damn."
Ery muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the
revived figure.
"This brotherhood... they full of freaks..."
User Comments
0 comments from readers