The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 612: Empire’s Invasion [30]

“My lord hero,” pleaded Ulia, “-please, don’t get angry on our behalf,” she sniffled.

“I don’t care,” the aura intensified, “-there’s no way!” the hands made for his hilt, “-Igna Haggard, face me like a real man. Let’s fight one on one, no magic, nothing, raw strength and swordsmanship, you devil.”

“We have a lively one,” remarked Lilith, “-I can sense the stench of Lucifer on thee,” she covered her nose, “-how repulsive.”

“Look at all these people,” said Gophy, “-a rather tough crowd.”

*Sigh,* “-Igna, were you serious on fighting these men?” inquired Intherna, “-the bravado is admirable, this is on a whole different level of foolishness.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” said Miira, “-look around, feel the air, we’re trapped inside an alternate dimension.”

“Enough chat,” gestured Igna, “-Hero Kion,” *snap,* the three girls hovered by their hair, the hands were forced and tied behind their back, “-here’s the exchange. I’ll let go of these three for the lives of five thousand.”

.....

“STOP SCREWING WITH ME!” the aura erupted; “-my companions were hurt. These men are people from my estate, no way I’m going to allow their deaths,” he glared Eira, “-what about the hostages and the men sent in Glenda, what happened to them?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” winked Lilith. Gophy took a strong step forward, “-invading our lord’s property was a grave mistake,” a black mist of unparalleled pressure knocked the bystanders, the hero’s energy locked in battle with hers, a hefty stalemate.

“Adding to thy sins is the slaughter of demi-humans,” added Miira, translucent dragon-shaped outlines swirled around her arms and legs, an azure symbol engraved on her forehead.

“Ill-treatment of the ones we swore to protect,” exclaimed Intherna, wings of flames sprawled, magma dribbled to melt the very ground, her entire persona burnt.

“The judgment is death by the thousand,” winked Lilith seductively, flowers formed atop her open palm.

“Who are you people?” the grip eased.

“Igna Haggard’s family,” winked Miira.

“F-family?” coughed Eira, “-surely not,” she clambered atop a boulder, “-each one of thee has more power than my foolish cousin. Why serve under him, I don’t get it?”

“Not a matter of strength,” smirked Intherna, “-our reasons are ours alone, a traitor shouldn’t infect our breathing air, tis a waste. Why not fall over and die already.”

“Kion,” she pulled onto his armor, “-we should retreat. There’s no hope of winning. These four are goddess’s, Gophy and Miira are high-tier, we don’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” smiled Igna, “-Eira, there’s no hope of escaping. The title of the devil, demon, and evil being is starting to fit. Perhaps I am the devil,” the distance closed with the hostages hovering in toe, “-Hero of another world, blessed man of Dustina. The outcome of the fight has been decided, Inesa’s body speaks for itself,” inches from Kion’s angered expression, “-I’m feeling generous,” the hostages landed, “-here’s a gift,” *Mana Control: Healing Element Variant: Full body Restoration.* “That should have taken care of most of her injuries.”

“Don’t listen to him Kion,” exclaimed Eira, “-he’s putting on a show.”

“What’s your angle?” he gritted, “-why have thee returned the hostages. I’m a straightforward type of person, I don’t much care for lies and underhanded trickery, be upfront.” The most update n0vels are published on ɴo(v)elFɪre.net

“Favors must be repaid in full. Report says the hero showed my people mercy,” he stepped back, “-hence this whim,” a good distance away, “-Kion, tell me, were you serious about the duel?”

“I was,” knelt over the healed Inesa, “-I would have fought for her freedom. There’s nothing else I ought to get from fighting...”

“Good point,” a murderous expression rattled his mien, “-her freedom is assured. Yet, thy freedom hasn’t been subject to negotiations. Let’s make the fight fair. Don’t get me wrong, I’m weak and tis no shame. An all-out battle would be carried by my trusted friends,” the four stood strongly, “-never mind them, this little fellow on my back is strong enough to take out half of thy men.”

“You’re a coward then,” fired Kion, “-asking others to do thy dirty work!”

“Such a double standard,” he locked onto Eira, “-didn’t they infiltrate Glenda and do the ‘dirty-work’. Stop being an idiot and look me in the eye, I’ll fight without magic, raw ability against raw ability, a battle between the famed hero, the strongest member of the church, against the devil, inheritor of the first progenitor’s blood.”

“Fine,” he approached the center, “-what if I win?”

“I’ll guarantee thy freedom,” he nodded towards Gophy and the others, “-you have no leverage to strike a deal.”

A momentary pause exhaled into, “-sure. Tis thy funeral,” he smirked.

“Trash talking,” he teleported to Lilith, “-mind taking care of Vanesa?”

“Sure,” she smiled. A nod of acknowledgment carried down the line.

“I thought you said no magic,” fired Kion.

“No magic, tis a duel.”

A heavy blade unsheathed; a godly radiance flooded the pale landscape. “-Not to brag, I was granted a heroic blade, one with the power to split a demon in half.”

“Looks like the hero has a befitting weapon,” mocked Igna, “-let me warn you, the moment we clash, there’ll be blood spilled.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” they moved to a moderate distance, Kion’s stance readied, a diagonal pose intent on counter. Igna stood emptily, with no prerequisite stance. A palpable thud echoed, a singular leaf drifted in between. *Woosh,* ground cracked, the duo vanished, for heavy armor and weapon, Kion’s speed surpassed human limits. Each strike thrown was immediately parried and readied for a counter, the initial combinations tested the waters. *Clang, clang, clang,* flickers darted left and right, *BOOM,* Igna flew backward and narrowly escaped falling headfirst. ‘-Holy shit...’ the words subconsciously escaped, ‘-he’s strong,’ the ground before him carved by the resulting momentum, ‘-my palms are resonating.’

‘Very skilled,’ thought Kion. He remained steadfast at the initial point, ‘-without enhancement and a shabby steel-long sword, I get why Eira wanted him dead.’ An itching sensation pulsed, ‘-he cut me?’ the cheeks bled from a mild slit, ‘-I was solely focused on defense and he did that...’ An exchange of glances led into another tête-à-tête through sword.

‘Who is this man?’ wondered Kion, ‘-the moment I try to shift my footing, he launches a diagonal strike. My reach’s longer, even then, by the time I react, he’s already on my weak point. Doesn’t matter, I’ll keep him close, he’s bound to get tired. We’re each other’s natural enemies. A rock can be dismantled by a strong enough wave, however a strong enough rock can nullify the hastiest of waves,’ he parried an upward stroke, carried the momentum and instantly darted for Igna’s neck, ‘-I made contact and reached the bone,’ an explosion flew Igna to the right and onto a boulder.

“Damn,” he exclaimed, “-you nearly took off my head,” he held his shoulder, ‘-close one,’ breathing grew harder, blood poured down the left arm, the weapon broke.

“Baron Igna,” he held the sword menacingly, “-so much for the gallantry of being a better swordsman. I forgot to mention, as a hero of another world, my physical attributes, and prowess far surpass those here. My blade was forged by the feathers of an angel.”

“Good, very good. There’s merit in taking this fight seriously.”

“What do you mean?” glared the Hero, “-I was fighting with all my strength from the get-go... were you holding back?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, “-what’s the fun if not to see my foe drown in despair?” the blood crystalized, the bleeding stopped.

“We agreed to no magic...”

“Not magic, you fool,” he coughed, “-tis blood-arts. A talent similar to martial arts, and the heroic arts thee possess. For the record, why the reluctance in going all out?”

“I was fighting with all my might... thee said no magic, therefore, I haven’t enhanced my body.”

“Oh, did I?” he briefly scratched his head, “-use it, use magic, I want to see how powerful the hero truly is.”

“There’s no reason to do so,” he spat, “-the swordsmanship is weak.”

“Weak you say,” the hands made for Orenmir, “-shall we test it?”

“Fine,” held upfront, ‘-why does he act so high and mighty. I’ve clearly won our prior exchange...’ the blade reacted, ‘-what’s this?’ the focus drew to a maniacal sheath, ‘-is my blade afraid of his, impossible, I’m a hero, I mustn’t falter.”

“Heads-up, Kion, here’s a taste of hell,” he vanished. Kion’s sense heightened, ‘-feel him,’ the eyes shut, ‘-the curse is a dead giveaway, there, on the left,’ the eye reopened, “-got you,” a direct downward strike.

“-Too weak,” he dipped, narrowly escaped the blade’s reach, and landed a clean strike, Kion reflectively pulled and shielded with his armor. ‘Close one,’ he panted and leaped to safety, ‘-that stare,’ he gulped, ‘-the way he glared, everything happened so quickly, a pair of crimson daggers, my heart dropped, I’m scared, w-what was that?’

‘I missed,’ gritted Igna, ‘-damned shoulder.’

“Enough!” cried Eira, “-Kion, you can’t defeat him without using the boon. I’m sure it’s clear now, don’t underestimate Igna, he’s arguably the strongest swordsman to ever live in our century.”

“Please,” he pouted in jest, “-being called the strongest swordsman is embarrassing,” back to straight-faced, “-Kion, tis thy last chance. Win while I have a bad shoulder, the moment I recover, it’s over.”

“Fine,” forced into a denser posture, *Imprisoned till the age of reckoning, blessed my goddess,* fingers ran along the blade, *-unsheath thineself for all to see. Shine in thy real splendor, Elciz, weeping sword of Dustina.*

*Heed my word, aged armor of the ancient ones, awaken, Enligtha,*

*Forgo of my limits, dig further into the depths of the slumbering beasts of Elck; I, humble hero, plea for a sliver of strength, grant me the power of absolute destruction.*

“G-get a-away,” yawned Vanesa, “-mother, I don’t want to be dirty.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” fired Miira, *Azure Dragon’s Helm: Barrier,* a green dome protected their spot, “-the hero’s about to unleash some ancient arts. How will Igna deal with the attack I wonder.”

Armor, weapon, physical attributes, the borderline between human and godhood surpassed in a split, a downward strike created energy the size of a skyscraper. The armor cracked, ‘-my strongest spell,’ the fingers fractured the instant it unleashed. A slash of pure godly mana buried all in its wake, the ground ruptured as a hot knife to butter.

“The sad truth of an ultimate attack is,” a bell melodically rang; time seemed to stop, the postured dropped and bounced, hands on the handle, “-no matter how strong it is,” *Lightning-Strike: Abyssal Red Variant,* the sword unsheathed,”-if one is rendered useless afterward,” a horizontal scarlet-black line cut across, “-then there’s no point,” rose petals fluttered into deep echo. Howls of the dead resonated, he slid to a stop leaving a trail of steam. Kion’s head hung with a knee to the ground, the other hoisted against the embedded blade. Amber sprinkle of petals and snow illuminated the blanched sky. Rampaging specters returned to their prison, Orenmir resheathed.

“Hero of the Church,” the injuries healed, “-I didn’t use magic, our fight ended in thy defeat, are the results satisfactory or shall I behead thee for good measure?”

“I admit defeat,” he coughed, “-I unleashed everything I had, how did you win?”

“A simple act of momentarily using my weapon’s true power. The hero has fallen by the hands of the devil.”

“Go on with it,” he gritted, “-I plea for my companions to be granted mercy.”

“No,” they begged, “-take us instead, we’re the ones who hurt the demi-humans, not our lord.”

“Quit with the senseless begging,” he grabbed Eira’s chin, “-another win for me.”

“Let me go,” she pulled her head, “-this battle isn’t over, we have five-thousand.”

“Stop right there,” the hands gestured to the others, the goddesses arrived, “-five-thousand strong, quite a big number,” *Clap,* the soldiers teleported in Kion’s self-made crevasse.

“Igna...” his heart dropped, “-please, don’t... I beg you, don’t do what you’re thinking...”

“A win is a win, in the end, the victor is he who decides the outcome,” the four separated to stand two against two atop the ledge, “-the exchange is simple,” he faced the coming massacre, “-freedom for thine lives.” Draconis leaped into his arms whilst Vanesa fell into a piggy-back ride.

“Pops, good job on winning,” smiled Draconis.

“Congratuala-la-la,” she fell asleep.

“Igna, don’t do it,” said Eira, “-tis needless deaths...”

A merciless side-glance halted her speech. “-Welcome to hell,” he gestured to Gophy. Lava fell, explosions threw limbs, thorns impaled, and the clashing of rocks squished the remainder, “-I hope thee enjoyed thy stay.”