In this evenly matched confrontation, the Undying Body carries imnse tactical significance. It not only allows you to take risks without fear but also subjects the enemy to relentless pressure.
Amidst this intense and constantly shifting battlefield, a montary lapse can lead to death, but now the situation has changed: the harsh penalty of death no longer applies to the Undead.
An enemy that can’t die — there’s nothing worse than that.
Amid Zefirin’s arrogant cheers, the Chain Saw Scythe carved a scarlet trajectory, the frenzied rotating teeth not only severed the Iron Branch but fiercely smashed into Bologue’s Scale Armor.
The glaring firelight continuously broke through the armor’s defense, leaving large bloodstains on Bologue’s chest. As it tore into the flesh, the venom took advantage and invaded.
Joy spread across Zefirin’s pale face, but soon, fine cracks began to surface and split on that delicate visage.
Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid pierced through Zefirin’s body, transforming into rapidly growing thorns, invading her chest almost instantly.
The twisted extending thorns were like countless curved daggers mashed together, slicing through the fragile flesh, cutting blood vessels, severing bones, and even crushing the heart and spine.
The body shattered into neat pieces of flesh, drenched in blood.
Bologue’s gaze beca vacant and numb. As the Chain Saw Scythe withdrew from his body, his wounds simultaneously split open, a ruthless injury erging from his left shoulder, deep enough to reveal white bone. Zefirin’s strike nearly severed Bologue’s entire left arm.
The venom echoed and roared within his nerves, just as Palr had described, various negative status effects collectively impacting Bologue. In his disordered senses, he struggled to control his body, weakly kneeling forward.
Yet Bologue stubbornly lifted his head, a weak flicker of firelight flashing across his fingertips.
Blazing Scale Burst.
The Red rcury exploded with a roar, the burning firelight erupted from within Zefirin, blasting her into a fierce burning fireball.
The building began to convulse violently, under the influence of the venom, Bologue struggled to accurately Command Matter, but... there was no need for precise control, just haphazardly smashing like an enraged drunkard.
Square stone pillars fell in crisscross, striking the burning figure. Initially, Zefirin could awkwardly dodge, but under mutual devastation, she couldn’t maintain agile movent, her lower limbs crushed by the stone pillars, followed by more pillars falling, layer upon layer, pinning Zefirin down.
Bologue vomited a large mouthful of blood, blood splattering on the ground, emitting a dense bubbling sound, as if his blood had beco intensely acidic.
This was likely one of the effects of the venom, it was consuming Bologue’s body. But beyond various negative states, Bologue realized its truly lethal aspect.
The venom was attempting to break through his Rectangular Soul Critical; though not completely succeeded, it had filled Bologue’s own Rectangular Soul Critical with cracks, exacerbating its impact on him.
No wonder Palr was so unfortunate, when Zefirin silently incapacitated him, Palr had already been bitten by a venomous snake on the throat.
Bologue also identified Zefirin’s weakness; her toxin was lethal but only effective in assassination. In direct combat, its efficacy was limited.
Clutching his wounded left shoulder, Bologue summoned the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid, forging armor, concealing the wound, and firmly locking his body, supporting himself.
On the surface, it appeared as Bologue’s ergency treatnt for himself, at least it wouldn’t allow the wound to expand further.
As Zefirin retreated, the scarlet mist likewise faded and dissipated. This mist was Zefirin’s Illusion Creation, further spreading as a dium for the venom.
In brief contact, Bologue realized that even if not inhaled, the mist, once covering matter, would still cause corrosive effects and other impacts.
Taking deep breaths repeatedly, Bologue’s face was pallid, under the armor, his left shoulder was swiftly regenerating, yet he continued to feign a look of excruciating pain.
Cautious, efficient, cunning...
Bologue had expertly applied these traits in combat, like a true Hunter.
The chainsaw roared anew, with tallic clashing and cutting, Zefirin’s stone pillar seal was completely shattered, and the undead Night Race wielding the Chain Saw Scythe returned once more.
Zefirin now appeared utterly disheveled, covered in marks of filthy blood, with nurous injuries still healing. Although a High Tier Night Race, her bloodline purity was far inferior to the likes of Serey, a Night Race Lord.
Leaning on the Chain Saw Scythe, Zefirin’s steps were still staggered. She wasn’t hasty to attack, aware that even her Undying Body had limits, and Bologue’s torrential assault made her realize she needed to treat Bologue with caution.
Even though now Bologue was severely wounded by her.
After the fierce clash, both paused simultaneously, warily scrutinizing each other.
Zefirin sniffed the blood scent perating the air, discerning the aroma she revered and detested.
"You possess Serey’s blood covenant."
When ntioning this, Zefirin’s voice carried a twisted resentnt, she had never truly seen Serey, nor had direct enmity with Serey, but she could feel the rage coursing through her bloodline.
Rage from the one who had bestowed blood to Zefirin.
"Why not? Can you spare for Serey’s sake?"
Bologue feigned weakness, secretly gripping the hidden weapon, always ready to launch a counterstrike.
"You’re not bad, I actually wanted you to beco one of us."
Zefirin wasn’t lying. One of the objectives of the attack on the Fortress of the Morning Wind was Night Race recruitnt, and if it weren’t for Bologue’s interference, Zefirin intended to convert Palr into a mber of the Night Race.
Turning the heir of the Clarks to the fallen side—nothing could be more entertaining.
"And now?"
Bologue took a deep breath, his left shoulder wound fully healed, and began to anticipate Zefirin’s incredible gaze.
"Now? Now I’ll use the cruelest punishnt to deal with the ally of a traitor!"
The crimson mist expanded rapidly. Bologue thought he had created a cage to seal Zefirin’s movents, but wasn’t this cage also Bologue’s own prison? In this enclosed environnt, the toxic mist wouldn’t leak out at all.
Zefirin unleashed secret energy, the blood-red glow bursting from within the Alchemy Matrix.
Secret Energy: Soul-Breaking Poison.
The primary discipline belongs to the Void Spirit School, enabling one’s Ether to be transford into deadly poison, causing multiple negative effects. The most lethal aspect is its erosion of the Rectangular Soul Critical, with a secondary discipline of Illusion Creation, transforming the poisonous Ether into mist for widespread physical interference.
To an assassin, this is a perfect poison that utterly destroys the opponent’s Rectangular Soul Critical amid paralysis and tornt, expanding the toxin’s influence in a vicious cycle.
The crimson mist filled the air, coloring Bologue’s entire vision in shades of bloodred. Zefirin used it to briefly hide her figure.
But the roaring noise of the Chain Saw Scythe couldn’t be masked.
With no thought of evasion, the harsh chainsaw sound ca from the front. Bologue held his breath, avoiding inhaling the mist, as it was still capable of eroding his body from the outside, but inhaling it would be far more damaging.
A stone pillar fell, blocking the attack of the Chain Saw Scythe, which spun in mid-air, a thin cord trailing from the handle into the mist, straightening and redirecting.
This was rely a feint; the Chain Saw Scythe sliced an arc from another angle toward Bologue, accompanied by hurried footsteps in the mist.
Bologue ignored all of this; the mist was an extension of Zefirin’s senses, as much as the cage was an extension of Bologue’s perception.
Blue flas rose suddenly, interweaving with the crimson mist. The Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid transford into a cold cluster of snakes rushing at Zefirin, tearing into thorn-laden briars, like chevaux de frise blocking Zefirin’s path.
The rapidly swung Chain Saw Scythe was also blocked by the rising stone wall. The weapon was disard, but Zefirin didn’t stop; instead, she sped toward Bologue, smashing through the thorny chevaux de frise that barred her way with her heavy fists.
This action took Bologue by surprise, and soon he realized the Chain Saw Scythe, like his disguise, wasn’t Zefirin’s true Alchemy Armant.
Layers of obstructions were broken through, Zefirin swung her radiant tal Hand Armor, delivering a heavy iron punch.
Zefirin rarely exposes her true Alchemy Armant directly, only doing so when she believes she can end the fight, delivering her final blow like thunder.
Now, with Bologue critically injured and shrouded in venom, there was no better ti to conclude the battle.
The iron fist dispersed the crimson mist, and behind the obscured fog, the Face of Horror released an overwhelming sense of dread. Distorted and frenzied illusions flashed before Zefirin’s eyes, yet they didn’t affect her much. In her eyes, Bologue only appeared more terrifying.
A creature of terror at death’s door.
Nothing more.
Suddenly, Zefirin’s advancing steps faltered; a cold iron chain, from nowhere, entwined around her legs, twisting into sharp iron thorns that pierced into her flesh.
A gentle breeze brushed her cheek; despite the distance between her and Bologue, in a blink, Bologue was right before Zefirin’s eyes.
Bologue swung his right fist, the glow of Ethereal Amplification enveloping his arm, unleashing a deadly punch.
Like a frarate drop in an animation, one second Zefirin was punching forward, the next, her body started to tilt, her freshly healed chest caving inwards, shattering countless bones.
A last desperate strike before death?
This thought flashed through Zefirin’s mind. Logically, Bologue, after suffering severe damage and poison, shouldn’t possess the strength to counterattack.
She glared at Bologue, only to see him raise his left fist, with the terrible wound vanished.
Zefirin’s mind went blank as heavy fists alternated down on her.
Pounding at her chest, striking her throat, Zefirin was slamd back, only to be dragged by the entangling thorns back in. Bologue swung the thorns forcefully, hurling Zefirin with all his might, crashing through a line of stone pillars, eventually smashing against the far end of the cage.
Sparks flashed, a booming explosion sounded from the depths; the accumulated Red rcury caused the fiercest detonation yet, making it impossible for the cage to stay sealed.
On the high walls of the Fortress of the Morning Wind, a scorching trail of fire erupted. Amidst the blaze, a figure wrapped in iron thorns erged, gravely hitting the wall under gravity’s pull, leaving a slowly dripping trail of blood.
From the collapsing hole of the explosion, Bologue slowly walked out from the fire’s glow, looking down upon the ground.
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