The King of Nachzehrers stood with his battle banner fluttering behind him, staff in hand. With every movement, waves of gray-black energy surged outward. The once-lush ground was swallowed in an instant, vibrant green fading into lifeless gray in the blink of an eye.

“We have waited for you for a long time.”

Calmly, he spread his arms, swaying in the wind with an air of distant elegance.

Yet anyone who approached him would be devoured without mercy, their life and soul dragged into the bottomless abyss of the Nachzehrer.

“I have nothing to prove to you, King of Nachzehrers,” Felix said flatly.

“In my eyes, there is no difference between the Royal Court and ordinary Sarkaz. The so-called Royal Court are merely long-lived beings who have remained on this land a little longer.”

“I do not deny your achievements. It is simply that Kazdel no longer needs to be bound by indifference.”

If he wished, he could make anyone king within the Nachzehrers Court.

“…Young man. Arrogant.”

“What does that have to do with arrogance?”

Felix drew his longsword. Blue flames climbed from the tip along the blade, then erupted like wildfire, spreading across the ground as though alive.

“After the changing of dynasties, is it not natural for the old to be replaced by the new? Did you think I would not act?”

“You fought for the Sarkaz for a thousand years. Your title as God of War is beyond dispute, a glory to the Sarkaz themselves. But if you now raise your weapon against me, the Liberation King of Kazdel, then even an ancient immortal will be removed if he stands as a threat.”

The King of Nachzehrers let out a hoarse laugh, as if genuinely amused.

“Ambitious. Arrogant.”

Cold sweat beaded on Qalaiša’s brow. The air felt heavier with each passing second. Her power as a Nachzehrer had no place here; it had already been completely absorbed by the King of Nachzehrers, leaving her with nothing to wield.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Patriot silently stopped her with a glance.

He looked once at the two figures, then stepped back, clearing the space between them.

Qalaiša watched anxiously, silently praying for the Liberation King’s victory.

“Is this the power of you, Teekaz?” the King of Nachzehrers asked leisurely. “A pity such strength has never before been displayed upon this land.”

“In ancient times, the Teekaz possessed the might to conquer the entire world. Since you, a rebellious Sankta, have chosen to evolve into a Teekaz, then let me witness your power.”

Flames ignited around Felix. His once-gray hair took on a faint azure hue, and his armor was engulfed in blue fire. He gripped his sword tightly; sparks flickered within his golden eyes.

The first arc of sword light split the distant mountain range in two.

___

A shepherdess crouched within a sandstone crevice, trembling. Her pale face stared at the azure flames piercing the sky. The ibex in her arms bleated uneasily, struggling to escape. Moments later, it broke free from her embrace and bolted toward the wasteland.

“Baa—”

The cry carried a wave of searing heat. Her linen headscarf blackened instantly. The fleeing ibex turned to charcoal without leaving even the scent of roasted flesh. It simply ceased to exist.

The wasteland seemed to breathe.

The girl shuddered, and then she fainted.

Qalaiša soon noticed her and sighed in relief. “Thankfully, no innocent lives were dragged into this. Patriot, did you find anyone else?”

“One. A man. Rescued.”

“Good.”

Black mist from the Nachzehrers court rose, gradually swallowing half the sky. Qalaiša’s expression darkened with lingering fear. That was a force capable of devouring all life within a hundred miles.

A streak of azure sword light flashed and split the black mist apart.

“You carry a scent both familiar and strange,” the King of Nachzehrers said, his voice grinding like rusted gears. He raised his left hand, wrapped in strips of banner cloth. The frayed ends brushed the ground.

In an instant, the bones scattered across the wasteland began to writhe. From empty eye sockets and broken ribs poured swarms of grotesque beetles. They gathered overhead, forming a churning cloud that blotted out the sun.

“Let us see whether your flames burn out first, or whether I swallow you whole.”

Twin streaks of fire flared within Felix’s pupils. The muscles in his right arm bulged as he swung Wildfire Blaze and leapt skyward. Golden wings of flame unfurled behind him. Blue fire rained down upon the dark swarm.

Each spark erupted upon contact, devouring the beetles in explosive bursts. Charred remains fell like meteors, smashing into the wasteland and carving smoking craters that exhaled plumes of blue mist.

“Arise, Ifrit!”

The Fiery Demon’s roar ignited the veins of the earth. Magma tore through the restraints of flesh and soil, condensing behind Felix into a blazing colossus fifty meters tall.

Ifrit’s phantom opened a pair of molten eyes. A flaming sword, forged from the planet’s core, cleaved through the air. The blade in its grasp resonated with Felix’s Wildfire, and with a beastlike roar, it slashed down toward the King of Nachzehrers.

The instant steel met the Nachzehrers King’s arm, countless wails burst from within his flesh—the anguished cries of souls long devoured.

“Good. Again!” The Nachzehrers King laughed hoarsely, savoring both the pain and the thrill. “Come! Let me feel the strength of the Teekaz who once roamed this land a thousand years ago!”

“Battle! Exhilarating! Thrilling!”

“Show me your power!”

On the bridge of Rhodes Island, sweat soaked through everyone’s clothes as they stared at the live feed transmitted by the AI. On the screen, Felix and Ifrit, nearly corporeal now, pressed their assault against the King of Nachzehrers. He no longer resembled a man but a monstrous giant wrapped in layers of black, rotting flesh.

A chill ran down Logos’s spine at the sight. His voice turned hoarse. “I have never seen the King of Nachzehrers fight like this.”

Even as a direct descendant of the Banshee, he had never witnessed such a battle. The other Sarkaz operators could only stare in stunned silence. One combatant was their king, the Liberation King of Kazdel. The other was one of Kazdel’s Six Heroes, the God of War, the Nachzehrers King.

Scout suddenly glanced at Warfarin. “Do you think the Vampire Court has this kind of power?”

Warfarin grimaced. “Spare me. I don’t know that lunatic, and I don’t want to. How would I know how strong he is?”

She paused. “But one thing is certain. The Vampire King’s Court does possess power comparable to a natural disaster. Historically, it wiped out an entire mobile city with ease.”

“A disaster in terran form.”

“I think Felix looks like one too,” Blaze muttered with a strained laugh, sweat dripping down her face. On the screen, Felix was engulfed in blue flames. His horns, wings, and halo gleamed gold within the churning black mist. Behind him, Ifrit brandished a colossal blade, roaring as it fought.

“Looks like? He is one,” someone replied quietly.

Kal’tsit held Amiya’s small hand, glanced at the Doctor standing in stunned silence, then turned her gaze back to the battlefield.

The current Felix surpassed any previous Sarkaz king. In Kal’tsit’s judgment, the only conceivable defeat would require the resurrection of every former Sarkaz king and a succession of battles.

Such a scenario was impossible.

“This is bad.” Logos felt a tremor of unease. The Nachzehrers King had summoned a shroud of Nachzehrers mist that swallowed the sky. “His Highness… will he be all right?”

Before their eyes, a decaying tree three hundred meters tall tore itself from the earth and hovered in the air. Its canopy was composed of countless severed heads, and its roots plunged into the planet’s core, drawing energy in a frenzy. Black mist poured from hollow eye sockets like fountains, corroding fissures into Ifrit’s flaming armor.

When the blazing sword struck the corrupted canopy, every heartbeat within a hundred miles seemed to pause for half a second. A massive rift split the sky open as torrents of blue-gold and dark green energy collided high above. At the seventh clash, Felix’s body was completely consumed by flame. Only his horns, halo, wings, and tail remained visible within the inferno. He looked like a fallen angel at the end of the world.

Golden wings unfurled wide. The wildfire shifted from its original crimson as threads of gold crept along the hilt.

Ifrit floated behind him, releasing the flaming sword. It clasped its hands before its chest, where a small blue flame began to expand.

“Hahaha! This is the power of the Teekaz!”

Black energy gathered at the Nachzehrers Tree’s core, a force capable of corrupting an entire mobile city. If unleashed upon Londinium, the metropolis would fall into deathly silence, not a single soul left alive.

“Come and fight!”

A massive fireball formed above Ifrit’s head like a Bijuudama, it opened its enormous jaws and exhaled heat strong enough to scour the soul clean. In the next instant, it leapt skyward. The fireball streaked toward the corrupted tree, followed closely by Felix’s blazing figure.

“Well done!”

The corrupted power condensed into a dark green shockwave and roared outward. The fireball met it head-on. The collision detonated into a violent explosion that tore across the sky.

A streak of blue-gold sword light arrived first, carrying flames strong enough to cleanse the soul as it swept horizontally—

The wails of countless dead rose in a tide so piercing it felt as though one’s soul were being torn apart. Even Qalaiša, standing far from the center of the clash, cried out in agony. She clutched her head and dropped to her knees, her vision fading to black.

The corrupted tree began to collapse from its crown. The severed heads that formed its canopy melted away under the purifying blaze, dissolving into the world. When the last head vanished, the figure of the Nachzehrers King stood once more upon the land, staff in hand, outwardly unchanged from before the battle.

The towering flames gradually dimmed, their blue radiance fading along with the colossal, illusory form of Ifrit.

“Is it a tie?”

“Heh. I have lived for a thousand years. Facing a junior, how could I allow myself to call it a draw?” The King of Nachzehrers lifted his head. “Let us call it my defeat.”

“So, after this fight, you are convinced?”

“With you in Kazdel, I can rest easy.”

He spread his hands. “Even the tempests of the future will be reduced to ashes by that flame.”

“Qalaiša, you have chosen a fine path.” He lowered his staff. “Perhaps this is the future of the Nachzehrers. You have earned my respect. I will be waiting for you in Londinium.”

With that, the King of Nachzehrers dissolved into black mist and drifted away.

Felix sheathed his sword. A wave of dizziness struck him; his strength was nearly spent. He glanced at his status bar and thought grimly, I’ll need to find a doctor later and get something for this.

When Qalaiša and Patriot reached the battlefield, the land had already lost all life and moisture. The earth lay cracked and desolate. Even a seasoned farmer would likely take one look and declare it beyond saving.

“Your Highness…”

“The King of Nachzehrers has left.” Felix turned back to them. “Let’s return to the Venus.”

Seeing his pale face, Qalaiša bit her lip. Resentment flickered in her heart, mixed with guilt toward her leader. Why had he pushed himself so far?

The duel was over, yet its aftermath lingered. Several nearby villages had been affected.

People suffered to varying degrees, but fortunately no lives were lost. After compensation was distributed and medical aid provided, Qalaiša’s mission came to an end.

Felix was promptly escorted to the infirmary by Qalaiša. Under Folinic’s respectful yet eager gaze, he underwent a thorough examination. There were no visible injuries; he was simply weakened from excessive exertion. However, a strange energy was rampaging through his body.

It was the power of the Nachzehrer, the ability to devour a host’s life force.

Qalaiša immediately volunteered to purge the energy for His Highness, requesting a quiet ward from Folinic. Folinic agreed without objection and arranged the highest-class room for him.

Felix studied the “MP Devouring” debuff displayed on his status bar. It was steadily slowing his mana recovery. As he examined the details, he realized the lights in the room had dimmed.

“Qalaiša?”

“I’m here.”

“What are you doing?”

“As Your Highness can see, I am changing my clothes.”

A faint blush crept across her face. “Nachzehrers energy gathers through the fusion of flesh and blood. If Your Highness were to expel it normally, it would take an entire day and night…”

“But if it is done this way, it will be much faster.”

Qalaiša climbed onto the bed. Her body was cold, yet soft against his.

“Your Highness… this is solely for detoxification. Please endure it.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep