Chapter 124: No Pity

Makun looked around, his goal was the priest, however the Needle warrior and the sword-wielder Blade Dancer were still up, they took some damage but not enough to go down.

It had to be remembered both of them were second-grade apprentices, one grade higher than Makun himself, the third; the Cleaver who was a first-grade apprentice had already been taken out, and could not join the fight anymore.

To get to the priest, he had to eliminate both of them.

He moved, Instead of the gaunt man with chains, he sprinted towards the now swordless warrior.

The Blade Dancer had fallen near the six cloaked figures, his body having skidded across the chequerboard floor after Makun’s tornado kick connected with his jaw. He was on one knee now, one hand clutching his broken jaw, the other supporting his body as he tried standing up.

Makun had a feeling this warrior was handicapped without his sword, reason why he had targeted him specifically from the start.

Finish him fast.

Makun’s action had taken the Needle warrior by surprise, he was not expecting Makun to change directions out of nowhere and go for his colleague, the Blade Dancer, he knew the Blade Dancer’s power flowed through the weapon. Without it, he was just a man with good footwork and a shattered jaw.

He had yet to reach the level of one who could manifest a sword with just their Ashe.

As such, he rushed, he had to stop Makun before he could act, but it was a step too late, Makun had everything planned out.

FLASH!

Makun closed the distance before the Blade Dancer could even stand fully.

The Blade Dancer saw death coming, but he could not die without putting up a fight, not in front of their lord, he hurried up, and out of survival, threw a desperate punch.

But Makun caught the fist mid-air, his grip tightening like a vice.

CRACK!

Bones shattered beneath his fingers. The Blade Dancer screamed, the sound swallowed by the increasingly growing chants of the disconnected who by now gave all they had.

Makun did not stop.

He yanked the broken hand downward, pulling the Blade Dancer off balance, and drove his knee upward into the man’s stomach. Air exploded from the warrior’s lungs, his body folding like paper.

Before he could collapse, Makun’s elbow came down on the back of his skull.

THUD!

The Blade Dancer’s face met the chequerboard floor, before he could move, he felt his face being crushed.

THUMP!

Makun’s boot came down on the back of the Blade Dancer’s skull, grinding it into the floor.

THUMP!

The man’s hands twitched, fingers clawing uselessly at the stone.

THUMP!

The skull caved inward, a wet crunch that echoed through the silent hall.

SPLASH!

Grey matter and blood erupted across the chequerboard tiles, painting the black and white squares a glistening red. The Blade Dancer’s body spasmed once, a second time, then went still.

Just like that, he was dead.

Makun lifted his boot, brain matter and bone fragments clinging to the sole. He looked down at the corpse, at the ruined mess that had once been a second-grade apprentice, a Blade Dancer, a man who had chosen to serve a cult that sacrificed children.

A wild grin spread across his face.

No pity for those who touch kids.

The crowd stared in horror, they had been in a trance-like state, however this scene had terrified them, not because of how brutal it was, every one of them here had either sacrificed, or participated in a sacrificial ritual, they were used to horrible sights.

No the horror was because, one apostle of the lord, a very important apostle had died like that, in the lord’s home, under his protection, under their faith and under the watch of the grey apostle.

Were they doomed? Were they next? They all had these thoughts.

Even the Needle paused, his unblinking eyes filled with fear, the Cleaver and the Blade Dancer were out by now, and he was the last one remaining, from what he had seen, he could not match against that demon.

When he looked at Makun’s orange-tinged eyes sweeping the room, he could not help but take a step back, those were the eyes of someone who had lost himself to the pleasure of destruction.

The priest’s face had gone pale.

Contrary to what Makun had thought, he was not a real Ruler. He was a Proxy, a man who borrowed a crown and pretended it fit.

It was a cheap subroute of the Ruler route, a shortcut. Similar to thrones built on sand with shabby foundations.

True Rulers, those with innate aptitude and powerful subroutes, did not have such shabby foundations, no, their authority was absolute, self-sustaining and terrifying.

They were experts beyond belief.

This one was sitting on a chair someone else built.

His commands could be discarded because they were not truly his and he needed the energy of the disconnected because he had none of his own. Every loss, from the Cleaver to the Blade Dancer, had not just weakened his forces.

It had weakened him.

He had not expected this, a first-grade apprentice was supposed to be easy prey, a sacrifice delivered on a silver platter. Instead, this demon had torn through his apostles like paper and was now staring at him with orange-tinged eyes that promised death.

The front he had put up earlier, the calm smile, the absolute certainty he had when ordering Makun to stop, was crumbling, crumbling to dust.

He gritted his teeth.

There is still a way.

His gaze locked on the children.

The grey apostle straightened his robes.

“Brothers and sisters. The lord commands the final sacrifice, Now.” He pointed at the children. “Take your daggers, complete what you came here to do. Give your flesh and blood to the lord, and he shall bestow the truth upon you, he shall destroy this demon where he stands.”

His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried through the entire hall.

“Do it now!”

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