Chapter 260: A Cry from Above.

The spear’s tip punched through flesh and bone with each thrust, the Blessing of Piercing enchantment ensuring that nothing could stop its momentum. He pulled it free, spun, drove it through another throat, ripped it out, brought it down through a skull.

Slick and viscous black blood sprayed across the cobblestones.

The brutal efficiency of the combat doctrine of the Crimson Crucible really shone through, as with swing he made, he was able to gut and kill at least three of the Thralls.

But for every Thrall he killed, it seemed like two more took its place. They climbed over the corpses of their fellows without hesitation, their movements growing more frenzied and desperate.

He could feel his Ein Sof dropping dangerously low. Shadow Shift was becoming harder to maintain, the shadows slipping through his grasp like water.

He needed more power

Nero’s eyes turned a terrifying glint of golden as he let out a vicious snarl.

He could see it quite clearly.

The bodies of these Thralls, even though they were humans, were filled to the brim with corruption.

And since they were filled with corruption, it also meant that they were filled with Ein Sof as well.

A flash of humanity flitted through Nero’s eyes before vanishing like the wind.

The next Thrall that lunged at him was caught by the throat. And while it was still living, Nero’s mouth expanded abnormally as he bit down right through flesh and bone.

He did not have the time or concentration to make use of the Ein Sof absorption technique.

He could only rely on the most effective one he knew.

Devouring.

Blood sprayed out, painting the alley walls a deeper shade of black. The feeling of the hot, bitter blood spraying into his mouth filled Nero with disgust and vigor as his reserves began to be replenished.

For a moment, the other Thralls seemed to pause, almost like they were in shock.

Nero used the brief moment to devour even more.

“Brybernos,” he gasped out as he threw the now half-eaten corpse to the ground.

His body ignited.

The Ein Sof within him surged outward, flooding his muscles with explosive strength. His vision sharpened to crystal clarity. Time seemed to slow as his perceptions accelerated beyond abominable limits.

The cost was his reserves plummeting, burning away at a terrifying rate. But the effect was undeniable.

Nero cut through the world like lightning.

Steaming blood produced wisps as more than twenty Thralls were turned into paste in a split second.

Nero’s eyes widened as he huffed deeply, trying to regain his balance from the burst of speed and power,

“Incredible.”

But the fight was not over yet.

He drove Gungnir through three Thralls in a single thrust, the spear passing through bodies like they were made of paper. He yanked it free and spun, the weapon’s momentum carrying it in a horizontal slash that separated heads from shoulders. Blood fountained into the air.

He pressed forward like a siege machine, his spear and his fists the blades of a meat grinder.

He was unstoppable.

The Thralls couldn’t keep up. They lunged and clawed only to get struck down into paste by overwhelming force, Gungnir reaping lives with every movement.

More Thralls emerged from the walls, a seemingly endless tide of corrupted flesh. They filled the alley, climbing over each other in their frenzy to reach him, and Nero realized with cold clarity that he was going to die here if he didn’t do something different.

He was yet to attempt it in actual combat, but there was a first time for everything.

Nero exhaled sharply.

Gripping hard to Gungnir’s shaft, his energy shifted.

Then his eyes widened.

Something changed.

The art of subtleness was nothing before a washing tide.

One that could destroy everything under its weight and momentum.

A crimson streak cut through the air. Faster than the wind. With the force of a mountain’s peak.

Crimson Break.

A technique designed to inflict as much damage as possible.

Nero watched as all the Thralls in his line of sight vanished instantly.

His entire body was instantly drenched black, and the building in the line of his thrust crumbled down with a roar and rumble, cracks running through the ground along the path of travel.

The next moment however, a terrible pain washed over him followed by exhaustion. He pulled up a corpse at his side and sank his teeth into in.

Disgusting sounds echoed through the alley.

When he had recovered a bit of energy, he finally managed to regain his balance.

However, he was very exhausted.

Because of his inexperience, he had been unable to control the output of the Crimson Break, unwittingly causing damage to himself and burning through most of his stamina in a single blow.

Every breath felt like his lungs were on fire and his body felt like a thousand icy needles were stabbing into it.

Still, he was glad that it was finally—

Shadows loomed from around the corner as that familiar screech filled his ears.

Nero backed away, his vision swimming, his body trembling with terror and spite.

The alley slowly began to fill up once more with the Thralls.

There were still at least several dozen of them, but Nero was falling apart.

He took a shaky breath. If he continued to fight, then he was sure to die.

’Should I flee?’

Just as he was contemplating this…

From above, came a sound that froze every drop of blood in his veins.

A cry.

Unlike anything he had and will ever hear.

Something vast, terrible and utterly alien. It echoed across the empty city, reverberating through the abandoned buildings, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Nero’s eyes snapped upward instinctively.

The sky above Liedenstorm was dark, the heavens obscured by something that writhed like chaos personified. And within that darkness, suspended impossibly high above the city, was a shape.

Nero caught only a glimpse, but just that much was more than enough.

A presence so vast and incomprehensible that his mind refused to process it, skittering away from the information like oil from water.

Horror crashed over him like a wave.

Nero averted his gaze immediately, squeezing his eyes shut, but the afterimage was burned into his mind. His entire body began to shake uncontrollably as cold sweat poured down his face. His stomach heaved, and he would have vomited if there had been anything in it.

Fear consumed him utterly.

The fear of something so far beyond his comprehension that his sanity threatened to shatter just from perceiving its existence.

The Thralls around him froze as well, their heads tilting upward in unison, their mouths opening even wider in what might have been worship or terror.

Perhaps it was both.

The cry came again, louder this time, and Nero felt something wet and warm running from his ears.

Blood.

His ears were bleeding.

Nero forced his eyes to stay down, forced himself not to look up again as he prepared to fight with every last scrap of strength he had left.

Because whatever that thing was, it most definitely wasn’t coming to save him.

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