My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill Chapter 251

Satou didn’t let him finish the sentence or recover his balance. He pressed the attack with relentless aggression, his blade a whirlwind of death that gave no quarter. Now that he’d drawn real blood and proven rc Assault could be hurt despite all his power, the psychological advantage shifted decisively.

The assassin tried to create distance, to reset the engagent and recover from the unexpected injury. Satou didn’t allow it. [Shadow Step] closed any gap rc Assault tried to create, appearing in his path before he could retreat. [Absolute Severance] cut through any barriers the assassin tried to raise, existence-erasing power treating his defenses as aningless.

"You’re going to die," Satou growled, his voice distorted by the berserker transformation into sothing barely human. "For what you did to . For what you tried to do to Jessica. For the torture you made pass through , for you making them die repeatedely . You’re going to die knowing you failed."

He landed another solid hit, his blade opening a deep gash along rc Assault’s left arm that nearly severed it completely. Then another across the assassin’s side that cut through muscle and scraped bone. Then another, a shallow cut across the face that sent dark blood streaming into rc Assault’s eyes and partially blinding him.

The legendary assassin was being pushed back steadily, forced onto pure defense for the first ti in probably centuries. His movents beca more desperate, less controlled as panic began to set in. He was losing to soone he’d thought he could break, and the reality of that was clearly affecting his combat performance.

"Impossible," rc Assault hissed through gritted teeth, wiping blood from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I am the master of nightmares! I’ve killed demon lords who were stronger than you’ll ever be! I’ve broken the minds of legendary heroes! You’re just a—"

Satou’s blade took off rc Assault’s right hand at the wrist mid-sentence.

The assassin scread—an inhuman sound of pain and rage and disbelief that echoed through the entire fortress. He stumbled backward, clutching the stump where his hand had been with his remaining hand, dark blood pumping between his fingers in rhythmic spurts.

"Just a what?" Satou snarled, advancing with chanical inevitability. "Just a broken thing you tried to create? Just a victim you tortured? Just a provisional demon lord who should have died in your nightmare realm? Just prey that had the audacity to fight back?"

His blade flashed again with blinding speed, and rc Assault’s left hand joined the right on the floor, severed cleanly at the wrist.

The assassin fell to his knees, armless, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds that his regeneration was trying but failing to close. [Void Fang] had infused the wounds with existence-erasing energy that prevented healing, ensuring they would continue bleeding until death claid him.

"You made one critical mistake," Satou said, his voice cold despite the berserker rage still burning in his veins. The transformation was beginning to fade now that the real fight was over, rational thought slowly returning. "You didn’t kill when you had the chance in the nightmare realm. You played with your prey because you’re a sadist who enjoys suffering. You wanted to savor breaking slowly. And that gave ti to adapt. To learn. To grow stronger specifically to kill you."

rc Assault looked up at him with those terrible eyes, and for the first ti Satou saw sothing other than cruel amusent or predatory anticipation in that gaze. He saw fear. Real, genuine fear from a being who’d spent centuries being the source of fear rather than experiencing it.

"Wait," the assassin said, his voice losing its nightmare-quality and becoming almost human in its desperation. Multiple tones collapsing into a single pleading voice. "Wait. We can negotiate. I can teach you secrets accumulated over centuries, show you techniques that would take lifetis to develop, help you beco even stronger than—"

Satou’s blade ca down and took rc Assault’s right leg at the knee, cutting off the desperate offer mid-sentence.

The assassin’s scream echoed through the throne room again, even louder than before. He toppled sideways, unable to maintain balance with only one leg remaining. Dark blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the cracked stone floor in an expanding lake.

"No negotiation," Satou said flatly, his voice carrying absolute finality. "No rcy. No escape. No second chances. You had your opportunity to kill . You failed. Now you get to be the helpless one. You get to be the victim. You get to experience what it feels like to have your power stripped away and your fate in soone else’s hands."

His blade flashed one final ti, and rc Assault’s left leg separated from his body.

Now the legendary assassin was truly helpless—limbless, bleeding out from multiple wounds that wouldn’t close, his terrible power reduced to nothing. He lay on the cold stone floor like a discarded piece of at, unable to move or defend himself or escape or do anything except wait for death.

Satou stood over him for a long mont, breathing hard as the berserker transformation fully reverted. The markings on his skin faded, his muscles shrank back to normal size though still impressive, the red glow left his eyes. But the cold fury remained, burning with absolute conviction.

Behind him, he heard footsteps. His companions had finally caught up, bursting into the throne room to find Satou standing over the broken body of rc Assault.

"Brother..." Kelvin said, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. "Is it... is it over?"

Before Satou could answer, another figure stepped forward from where they’d been standing in the shadows near the throne room entrance, unnoticed during the intense battle.

Shadow.

The mysterious cloaked figure moved with purpose that was sohow different from their usual controlled movents, walking past Satou to stand directly over rc Assault’s dying body. Their movents carried an emotional weight that hadn’t been there before, a tremor in their hands visible even through the concealing robes.

"Wait," Satou said, sothing in Shadow’s posture making him hesitate despite his desire to finish this. "What are you—"

Shadow pulled back their hood, revealing their face for the first ti since joining the party.

She was a dark elf. Female. Young—probably in her early twenties by human standards, though with elves that could an she was anywhere from twenty to two hundred years old depending on lifespan.

Her skin was a deep charcoal gray, almost black in the dim light, with the characteristic smooth texture and faint luminescence of high elves. Her hair was silver-white, cut short in a practical style that frad a face with sharp, elegant features—high cheekbones, a pointed chin, a straight nose. Her eyes were a vivid violet color that seed to glow faintly with their own light, and they were filled with tears that stread down her cheeks unchecked.

Then she began removing the rest of her disguise with trembling hands. Her fingers moved in complex patterns, undoing transformation magic that had been layered over her form with incredible skill. Her body shimred as reality warped around her, and suddenly she was different—

Taller by several inches, her fra more obviously feminine rather than the androgynous warrior’s build that "Shadow" had displayed. The masculine mannerisms and bearing fell away, revealed as an illusion maintained through constant magical effort.

"You..." rc Assault’s voice was weak and fading, blood loss taking its toll, but there was recognition in it despite the pain. "You’re... her daughter. Silviana’s spawn."

The dark elf girl nodded, more tears falling to splash on the stone floor. She dropped to her knees beside the dying assassin, her violet eyes fixed on his face with an intensity that was painful to witness—years of hatred and grief and desperate need all compressed into a single mont.

"Father," she said, and her voice—no longer magically altered by transformation—was soft and lodic and utterly broken. "I’m here. I ca back after all these years. I ca to get my revenge for what you did to Mother."

rc Assault started laughing despite his condition. It was a horrible sound, wet and gurgling from the blood filling his throat and lungs, but unmistakably laughter that carried genuine dark amusent. "Revenge? For that whore? She was weak. Pathetic. Unworthy of being mated to one such as I. A liability. I did what needed to be done to maintain my reputation and power."

The girl flinched as if physically struck, her whole body jerking backward. But she didn’t look away from his face, forcing herself to et his terrible eyes. "She loved you. She gave you everything she had. She bore your child despite knowing what you were. And you killed her. You trapped her in nightmares for three days until her mind broke and her heart gave out. Your own mate. The mother of your daughter."

"She. Was. Weak," rc Assault repeated, emphasizing each word with cruel precision despite his fading strength. His voice carried absolute conviction even now. "Just like you, Sylvara. Always crying, always emotional, always useless. A disappointnt from the mont you were born. Why are you wasting ti talking? Just kill already, you pathetic fool. Or are you too weak even for that simple task?"