Looking at all the carnage around him, the third simply laughed. "How the hell do you have this sort of godly blood manipulation skills when you are barely a couple of decades old?" He simply stood amidst the bloodbath, not giving a fuck about any of his teammates dying.
Many blood lances shot forward, aiming at him as well, but sohow his form shimred and every one of them passed right through him.
Damon frowned. He couldn’t quite grasp the technique the guy was using, but for now, he simply continued with the massacre.
More and more black-robed n appeared, crawling out of shadows, rising from dunes, slipping in from every which corner, but they were all greeted by one lance or the other. Damon was already aiming at them.
His head barely moved. His expression didn’t change. But each new assassin who dared set foot in the circle around him had a lance materialize directly above their skull, descending with the promise of a rciless death.
One assassin scread, "How is he tracking us? Is our stealth skill a fucking joke?" His words cut off as a lance punched through his sternum and pinned him to the ground like an insect.
Another tried to leap toward Kaelthorn, but before he could even touch him, a dozen lances hit him at once, turning him into a cloud of red mist.
A third froze, trembling violently as he felt the tip of a lance pressing against the back of his neck before he even fully stepped out of the shadow. The lance obliterated him.
All the while, Damon’s gaze remained fixed forward, utterly calm, utterly cold, the storm of death swirling around him as if it were nothing more than an extension of his breath.
And still... more assassins kept coming.
Thirty. Forty. Fifty.
The dunes shook with the sheer number of bodies erging from the darkness. Kaelthorn swallowed hard. Green Eyes stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. "These aren’t normal assassins... every single one of them is an elite," Kaelthorn whispered in dread.
He had heard of Umbra’s hand before, but only now was he seeing their terrifying prowess in person. However, his Lord seed to be the truly terrifying one here.
But Kaelthorn did not stand simply. He tried his best to aim for one assassin after another, pulling his weight as much as he could while also protecting the two elven won. He tacitly understood that this was his main duty, and he was prepared to die for it.
The elven slave girl, on the other hand, looked completely mortified. Every ti she stepped out with Damon, she was always surrounded by death and destruction.
At this point, she simply wanted to go back to the Blood Hall filled to the brim with vampires. All those vampires put together were not as scary as this one in front of her.
Lirae, on the other hand, was not as weak and helpless. She did not simply stand on the sidelines and watch. Her eyes beca fully red, and a murderous aura surrounded her. She could clearly see what was happening.
Even if she tried to, she couldn’t be so oblivious as not to see the events unfolding right in front of her. The truth was finally displayed for everyone to see! Her damned family, the righteous and the noble elves, were actually colluding with these assassins!
The Umbra’s hand!
Anger filled Lirae’s eyes. While she was again and again trying not to burn every bridge with them, they were constantly doing everything they could to restrain her and use her. She has heard the rumors about Umbra’s hand before, the sa like everyone else.
Only she never thought that her own family would stoop so low to collude with these kinds of people. Then how were they any different from the bloodsuckers, the other dark wizards, and the humans they loathed so much?
As assassins died like insects around Damon, as the dunes soaked in crimson, as the elite killers of the Umbra’s Hand fell one by one like wheat under a scythe, Lirae let out an angry scream, unleashing hell of her own.
Streams of life energy drifted into her body from the surroundings assassins filled her body with imnse power. Life essence condensed into raw elental power, snapping violently through her bloodstream.
Wind mana ignited around her like a cyclone, the desert sand lifting into a spiraling halo of grains that humd like a living storm. The dunes themselves vibrated. Wind tore through the battlefield, swirling around her in a widening vortex. Sand sharpened into blades, spinning behind her like wings of a blood-stained hurricane.
Even Damon paused for a heartbeat. He had seen Lirae angry. He had seen her frightened. He had seen her gentle. He had never seen her like this.
Lirae lifted her hand, fingers trembling with power she was barely containing. The sandstorm swelled in response, spiraling around her like a crown of death.
A tidal wave of cutting sand and roaring wind slamd across the battlefield. Assassins were skinned alive where they stood, their stealth techniques shredded instantly, their bodies torn apart by the vicious storm.
Having utter bad luck, the elven patriarch, his queen, and his children also erged out of the woodworks right at this mont, probably hoping to take advantage of the chaos and strike Damon while he was busy annihilating the assassins.
Instead, they walked straight into Lirae’s storm.
The patriarch froze mid-step, eyes stretching wide in the heartbeat before the storm descended on them. "Stop!" he tried to command. He didn’t get to finish.
The sandstorm slamd into the royal family like a physical wall, hurling them backward. Their regal robes shredded instantly, slashed open by thousands of razor-edged grains. The queen shrieked as wind claws tore through her sleeves. One of the sons hit the dune with enough force to cough blood.
"L-Lirae?!" one of the daughters scread, shielding her face as sand blades nicked her skin. "W-We’re your family!"
***
Chapter 8 Mass Release sponsored by Teoswig
User Comments
0 comments from readers