The ships were allowed to drift closer to the city, their sleek forms casting long shadows over the distant plains. Thalion stood atop the observation deck, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the approaching vessels. The chance of a full-scale battle breaking out was slim—he already knew what this pompous fool was here for. A duel. And he’d get one.

Below, the guards were tense, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. The base’s shields shimmered faintly, a constant reminder of the unassailable defense surrounding them.

If the invaders dared to start a fight now, it would be suicide. Still, the soldiers remained alert, their postures rigid as they awaited the inevitable confrontation.

It wasn’t long before the ships came to a halt, hovering just a hundred meters from the base. A figure separated itself from the fleet, drifting forward with an air of theatrical arrogance.

Clad in flowing robes, a long staff in hand, the man hovered before the five ships, his voice booming across the battlefield, infused with mana to reach even the furthest ears in the base.

“I am blessed by one of the noble gods,” he began, his tone steeped in self-importance. “This is a legendary blessing, one that protects us in this tutorial.”

Thalion’s lip curled in a smirk. He considered interrupting the man’s speech—just blasting him out of the sky—but decided against it. Let him drone on for a while longer; it might even be entertaining.

“We have fought hard for survival,” the man continued, his voice rising theatrically. “And yet the leader of this base—Thalion—refuses to cooperate. This is outrageous! We need unity to stand against the undead!”

The man drifted closer to the ships, a deliberate show of fearlessness.

“Can’t we just blast the bastard?” Kaldrek’s voice whispered in Thalion’s ear, low and impatient. “A couple of mages have skills charged up—he’d never see it coming.”

Thalion shook his head slightly. Tempting as it was, killing this clown outright wasn’t the best move. A public duel would humiliate him far more effectively and send his fleet scrambling back home.

“…And so I call upon you, Thalion!” the man declared, his staff raised high. “Face me in a duel to determine who shall lead this base. You have no chance of defeating me, but if you surrender now and release my wife, I will spare your life!”

Thalion stopped listening halfway through. The man’s sanctimonious drivel grated on his nerves, but the final demand caught his attention. His wife? Ah, so that was the angle.

His gaze flicked briefly to the spatial ring on his finger. Her body was stored there, drained of blood and lifeless. It could be “returned,” certainly—but not yet.

Not while they were still hovering over a kilometer above the ground. Dropping her corpse now would be… messy. No, he’d wait for the right moment.

Thalion’s grin widened as he let the silence stretch. The fool hovered before his fleet, arms spread, waiting for a response. The seconds ticked by, and the man’s self-assured expression began to falter. His head turned slightly, his gaze darting toward his men. Unease rippled across his face, as if he feared he’d miscalculated.

How long should he let him stew? Another minute passed, and even the man’s crew began to shift uncomfortably, their whispers carrying faintly through the still air.

Thalion suppressed a chuckle. The fool was stuck, too weak to attack the shields outright, and entirely reliant on him stepping outside.

Finally, Thalion broke the silence. “Fine,” he said, his voice a bored drawl. “Let’s duel.” He stepped forward, the air shimmering as he passed through the shield. His tone sharpened. “Do you want to fight here, in the sky, or on the ground?”

The man visibly relaxed, relief flickering across his features. “We shall fight on the ground,” he said, lowering his staff slightly. “But first, we must agree to the rules of the duel. I have no desire to kill you by accident.”

Thalion sneered. “Rules?” he said, his voice mocking. “The only rule is this: Winner lives, loser dies. If you can’t handle that, feel free to turn your little fleet around and leave us in peace.”

The man’s face hardened. “I had hoped to avoid this,” he said, his tone laced with false regret. “But for the good of the people, you leave me no choice.” He turned, floating down toward the ground. “The duel shall begin when one of my mages casts a fireball into the sky.”

Thalion watched him descend, considering his next move. It was tempting to stay hovering here, forcing the man to look like a complete idiot on the ground, shouting up at him. But no—he wanted this farce over with. Time to finish it.

He followed, landing smoothly twenty meters away from the man. The tension in the air was palpable now, the silence broken only by the faint hum of magic from the ships above.

The man sneered as Thalion approached, his voice low and meant only for him. “I’d have liked to show your beaten body to my wife,” he spat. “But maybe I don’t have to kill you. Perhaps I’ll just hang you from that tall tower of yours instead.”

Thalion’s grin sharpened, a glint of dark amusement flashing in his eyes. He didn’t bother responding. Words were for fools who hadn’t already lost the fight.

Thalion held his response, his gaze drifting upward to the mage who cradled the fireball in his palm, its orange glow casting flickering shadows on his face.

The tension was palpable, the anticipation a heavy weight pressing down on the battlefield. But before the mage could hurl the blazing signal to start the fight, Thalion acted.

With a flick of his hand, he retrieved the corpse of the man’s wife from his spatial ring. Her lifeless body appeared in an instant, dangling limply in his grasp. Without hesitation, he gripped her by the neck and hurled her toward the man like a broken doll.

Shock rippled across the man’s face, his expression shifting in a chaotic dance of emotions. Surprise twisted into recognition, then horror etched itself deeply into his features before finally solidifying into a mask of seething hatred. His lips parted, as though to scream, but the fireball streaked skyward with a deafening crack before he could utter a word.

Thalion exploded into motion. The instant the fireball burst into the sky, he surged forward, crimson energy blazing along his blade. His first strike—a vicious, arcing slash—sliced through the air toward his opponent’s head with deadly intent.

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The man reacted with startling speed. Power erupted from him, his body glowing with energy as he raised his staff to intercept the attack. The weapons collided with an ear-splitting explosion, the force hurling the man backward several meters. Thalion hadn’t had time to fully charge his attack, but it was still strong enough to send his opponent sprawling.

Thalion pressed forward. In an instant, he closed the distance, his blade clashing against the man’s staff in a flurry of strikes. Their battle became a deadly dance, the air alive with the sharp clang of steel meeting enchanted wood. The man’s strength and speed were impressive—his higher level showed—but Thalion’s precision and technique kept him one step ahead.

Each strike, each parry, was a clash of raw power versus honed skill. Yet Thalion knew brute force alone wouldn’t win this fight. His opponent’s blessing granted him relentless energy, his wounds knitting themselves together with unnerving speed under a golden glow.

Still, Thalion wasn’t concerned. He had no intention of losing. This fight wasn’t just about survival—it was about gathering information. Each move, each spell, revealed more about the abilities of this god’s followers. Such knowledge could prove invaluable in future battles.

The man’s attacks became wilder, his strikes fueled by a simmering rage. His speed increased, his staff a blur, but his technique began to falter under the pressure of Thalion’s calculated responses. Thalion’s blade found small openings again and again, slicing shallow cuts across his opponent’s body. Yet each wound healed almost instantly, the golden light enveloping the man burning brighter with every second.

Then came the shift. The man roared, his body glowing like a miniature sun as his power surged. His strikes carried newfound ferocity, forcing Thalion onto the defensive. But even with the overwhelming strength, the man’s attacks were imprecise, and Thalion’s superior swordsmanship allowed him to deflect the blows with ease.

Thalion’s lips curled into a faint smirk. The man might have power, and skill with the staff but against Thalion it was nothing. Still, Thalion stayed cautious, probing for weaknesses. His opponent’s glowing aura hinted at untapped abilities, and Thalion knew better than to underestimate divine blessings.

The man leapt back suddenly, his staff crackling with energy. With a shout, he unleashed a beam of golden fire, the scorching heat warping the air as it raced toward Thalion. The attack was fast—dangerously so—but not fast enough. Thalion sidestepped effortlessly, the beam striking the ground behind him in a fiery explosion.

Before the smoke cleared, Thalion retaliated. He poured more power into his blade, releasing a crimson slash that tore through the air with a deafening roar. The man’s eyes widened in panic, fear flickering across his face as the deadly arc closed in.

He raised his staff to block, but it wasn’t enough. The slash struck home, leaving deep gashes across his shoulder and belly. Golden light flared as the wounds began to heal, but the man’s confidence wavered.

Fear was etched clearly across his features now. His attacks grew reckless, desperate. More fire spells came, each flung with less precision than the last, and Thalion dodged them with almost lazy ease. The golden aura surrounding the man began to fade, its once-brilliant light flickering weakly as his stamina and mana drained away.

Sensing the shift in momentum, Thalion struck. A wild swing from his opponent left a gaping opening, and Thalion capitalized instantly, severing the man’s left arm in a spray of blood. A strangled cry escaped the man’s lips as his staff fell to the ground, clattering uselessly beside him.

The fight was over. The man’s power was spent, his golden aura reduced to faint wisps of light. He tried to retreat, dashing backward in a desperate bid to escape, but Thalion was faster. A single, calculated strike took the man’s leg, sending him crumpling to the ground in a heap.

Silence fell over the battlefield. Thalion approached slowly, his blade glinting ominously in the light. The man lay before him, chest heaving, blood pooling around him. Fear and resignation mingled in his eyes as Thalion stood over him, the victor of a battle that had never truly been in question.

“I give up! You win! There’s no need for bloodshed,” the man pleaded, his voice trembling. Desperation clung to every word, his eyes wide with the hope of mercy, though deep down, he must have known it was futile.

Thalion remained silent. His gaze bore into the man, unyielding and cold. After a moment, his blade gleamed with crimson energy, and without hesitation, he unleashed a slash. The attack was swift, merciless, and final. The man’s head was severed cleanly, his body crumpling to the ground in eerie silence.

The battlefield stilled, the oppressive quiet broken only by the faint rustle of wind. Thalion tilted his head, looking up toward the enemy skyships hovering above. Even from a distance, he could see the fear etched on their faces, their panic palpable as they peered down at him from the safety of their vessel.

“What are you waiting for?” Thalion’s voice boomed, amplified by mana, reverberating through the tense air. “Run! Go back to your base and never return. There won’t be a second chance if I see you again!”

The crew scrambled. Their fear was written in every frantic movement as the ships turned sharply, retreating into the distance. A smirk tugged at Thalion’s lips beneath his mask. The display of power had served its purpose.

With the skyships retreating, Thalion strode over to the lifeless body of the fallen. He crouched briefly, inspecting the corpse before slipping it into his spatial ring. A flicker of amusement crossed his face as he thought of Lucan’s reaction when he presented him with the man’s weapon.

But there was more work to be done. The day was far from over, and Thalion’s thoughts turned to the next battle. He mulled over the need for stronger warriors at his side. Elite fighters would make his tasks much easier, yet trust was a rare commodity.

Time, too, was in short supply—his cultivation required focus, and the darkness elemental he’d been nurturing demanded attention. He wondered if, upon his return, he’d find signs of progress. Perhaps small clusters of dark energy would already be forming.

Signaling Kaldrek and the others, Thalion indicated that the matter was resolved. The attackers wouldn’t be pursued further. Their resources were better spent fighting the undead, where every living ally could tip the balance in their favor.

As the skyships disappeared into the horizon, Thalion dissolved into mist, his movement skill carrying him swiftly back to base. The sprawling city came into view, bustling with activity.

People crowded the streets, their energy vibrant, while others soared through the air or leapt nimbly from rooftop to rooftop. The city thrummed with life, a stark contrast to the desolation of the battlefield.

Thalion reappeared at the entrance of one of the larger establishments. Its glowing decorations cast a warm, inviting light, while a bold red sign above the door announced its name: “The Crimson Lounge.”

<–

Three hours before the duel:

Abigail stepped through the shimmering portal, a wide smile spreading across her face. Her heart raced with excitement. Thalion had delivered once again, bringing her and the other shapeshifters an incredible new form—the Abyssal Tigershark.

It was a marvel of power, speed, and grace, unmatched by any beast on the reef. Hunting had never been so effortless. Abigail had roamed the reef and open ocean, gaining new forms like the Coral Crab and Octopus, each perfectly suited for her predatory needs. Her levels had skyrocketed in a single day, and E-grade felt tantalizingly close. For the first time in her life, her future seemed bright. The prospect of becoming an elite warrior no longer felt like a distant dream.

But today wasn’t just about leveling up. Abigail’s thoughts turned to Ellen, her new and only love. She had promised to visit early to share her progress and the incredible forms Thalion had unlocked for her. The memory of Ellen’s touch sent a shiver down her spine. Abigail could barely contain her excitement.

She quickened her pace through the city’s bustling streets, her smile never faltering. When she reached the Crimson Lounge, she stepped inside, and the sight before her took her breath away. Ellen stood behind the bar, her radiant presence instantly commanding Abigail’s full attention. Their eyes met, and an electric current seemed to spark between them, igniting a flame of desire that burned hot and fast.

Abigail froze in the doorway, mesmerized. Ellen moved gracefully, stepping around the bar with a sway of her hips that was impossible to ignore. Her ample chest rose and fell with each step, drawing Abigail’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

Time seemed to slow as Ellen approached. When she reached Abigail, she took her hand, her touch igniting a fresh wave of longing that left Abigail weak. Words felt unnecessary as Ellen guided her toward one of the private rooms. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but Abigail didn’t care. Tonight would be theirs, and nothing else mattered.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep