Chapter 76: Death to the Quillforte Siblings

The energy mass plummeted toward them like a falling star, its destructive potential enough to level the entire field. Nacht shifted his stance, pivoting his right foot backward as he prepared to meet the attack head-on. With fluid precision, he brought his sword down in a single vertical arc toward the descending mass of energy.

The blade seemed to cut through reality itself, and the destructive force split cleanly in half as space itself parted before Nacht’s strike. “Space Cutter,” he said quietly, naming his technique. It was his third skill under the King of the Area domain—the ability to cleave through the very fabric of space and create dimensional rifts within his field of influence.

The bisected energy mass erupted in a tremendous explosion that lit up the sky with shockwaves that rippled outward, reaching towards and shaking the mountains that the facility was surrounded by.

Zebelon’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “Impossible!” he cried out. “You possess the space cutting skill?!” His mind reeled as he tried to process what he’d witnessed. The space cutting technique was legendary among the Nyron family, available only to those whose bloodline remained strong enough and not so diluted.

Nacht, whom he’d dismissed as a third-rate descendant, shouldn’t have been capable of such a feat. But even as Zebelon struggled to comprehend what he’d seen, Nacht was already moving.

In an instant, he teleported to a position two hundred meters away from the Quillforte—exactly at the maximum range of his King of the Area domain. “A Thousand Cleaves!” Nacht declared, and the space around Zebelon erupted into a symphony of destruction.

Every point within the domain was simultaneously cut and sliced, reality itself shattering like glass in perfect geometric patterns. The very air seemed to fracture as dimensional rifts opened and closed in rapid succession. Zebelon found himself at the center of this maelstrom of severed space, his body caught in the crossfire of attacks that cut through the fabrics of reality.

With the technique complete, Nacht turned away calmly and sheathed his katana back into its scabbard with a soft click. The aftermath was swift and absolute, and pieces of what had been the mighty Quillforte fell to the field like crimson rain.

…

The battlefield trembled as Nacht’s devastating cleave cut through the energy mass, sending an explosion rippling across the sky. The sudden eruption drew Helda’s attention away from her opponent, her head snapping toward the distant blast with wide, startled eyes.

Liam seized the moment.

In the few precious seconds of her distraction, he closed the distance between them, with his sword already sweeping in a horizontal arc aimed at the floating demigoddess. But just as Helda’s gaze returned to him, the Balrog materialized at his side in a burst of supernatural speed.

The demon’s massive form slammed into Liam’s airborne body with crushing force, sending him plummeting toward the cracked rooftop below. The impact shook the already weakened structure, but Liam recovered rather quickly, rolling to his feet as his eyes glowed amber.

The Balrog descended upon him again, with its burning sword cutting through the air in an attempt to strike down the enemy; but Liam sidestepped the vertical strike in one fluid motion, his body moving like water around the blade.

The demon pressed its attack, following up with a horizontal swing aimed at his head, but Liam ducked beneath the arc of steel and flame. What followed after felt like a dance—the Balrog’s relentless assault met by Liam’s perfect evasion. Each strike found only empty air as Liam flowed around the demon’s attacks.

But patience was not infinite, and when the Balrog raised its sword for another crushing blow, Liam decided he had seen enough, swinging the darktitan towards the flaming sword. Their blades met with a thunderous crash that sent shockwaves through the air, and the impact tore the Balrog’s weapon from its grasp.

Before the demon could react, Liam’s blade found its mark.

“ARGGHHH!” Liam’s roar split the night as he drove his sword through the Balrog’s neck, then completed the motion with a savage sideways cut that sent the creature’s head tumbling from its shoulders.

Helda watched in disbelief as her strongest manifestation began to disintegrate. This couldn’t be possible—Liam’s mana reserves were too depleted to achieve such raw power. But theory crumbled before reality as her champion fell to ash.

The dragon moved next, its massive head lunging toward Liam with jaws spread wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. It meant to swallow him whole, but Liam dropped his sword and caught the beast’s fangs with his bare hands.

For a moment, it seemed the dragon’s weight would overwhelm him, and his arms shook under the tremendous pressure, with the creature’s maw slowly closing despite his efforts. Then something shifted. Liam’s grip tightened, and with a surge of impossible strength, he forced the dragon’s head back.

Before the beast could recover, Liam launched himself upward, his feet leaving a crater in the rooftop. His fist punched clean through the dragon’s neck from below, emerging from the other side of its head in a spray of blood and scales. The creature had no time to cry out before Liam brought both hands down in a devastating double-fisted strike that crushed its skull and sent the massive body crashing to the ground.

The dragon’s fall sent new cracks spider-webbing across the rooftop and the building’s foundation groaned under the relentless punishment. At this rate, the entire structure would collapse within minutes.

As the dust settled, Liam stood atop the dragon’s ruined head, slowly raising his gaze to meet Helda’s terrified stare. His amber eyes blazed with primal fury, and his teeth bared to reveal fangs. Then he threw back his head and released a devastating roar.

The sound was inhuman, like a symphony of monstrous voices unified in one bone-chilling call that sent visible shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. Helda had to brace herself against the acoustic assault, with her body trembling as the roar washed over her.

Deep in the void of Liam’s subconscious, a shadowy figure bared its fangs in a sinister grin. “Perfect,” it whispered in a voice like grinding stone and distant thunder.

For one terrifying second during that roar, Helda felt something that made her blood freeze—that unmistakable mana quality. The suffocating aura of a god, the kind that made lesser beings want to prostrate themselves or avert their eyes in reverence. It lasted only a heartbeat, so brief she wondered if fear had made her imagine it.

But the terror in her eyes was real enough. She floated there, paralyzed by the question that echoed in her mind: What is he?
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The roar faded as Liam stepped down from his grisly perch as he casually kicked up his fallen sword into the air and caught it by the hilt. Then, pivoting on his heel, he drew back his arm and hurled the blade like a javelin toward the floating demigoddess.

Helda’s trembling fingers scrambled to make the pages of her Book of Stories flip, seeking another monster to summon. But fear had made her clumsy, and by the time she found the right page, it was already too late.

The sword pierced her heart and the Quillforte demigoddess gasped as blood poured from her lips.

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