Chapter 137: The Archbishop of Desire, Laxasia (3)

Ashen flames wrapped around his body, bursting to life. Dark gray smoke streamed out through his pores, swirling into the air.

Laxasia narrowed her eyes, staring at Dale, who was engulfed in fire. “You. Hmph. So you know a few cheap tricks after all?”

Arms folded, she let out a mocking laugh, and her lips curled into a sharp sneer. “But do you really think that will be enough to defeat me?”

For all the show of force, the mana flowing from the boy called Dale wasn’t particularly great. At best, it was on par with a hero ranked around the hundreds. It was not a small amount compared to the average hero, but from her perspective as an Archbishop, it was pathetically insignificant.

She continued, “Didn’t they teach you this back in training? Unless you’re a top-five hero, you don’t draw your sword in front of an Archbishop.”

Dale gave a wry chuckle as he raised his sword. “Is that so? Guess I missed that lesson. My grades were never that good.”

He kicked off the ground, charging forward.

“Oh? Then Big Sister here will just have to give you a little extra tutoring!”

Laxasia snapped her whip through the air. It crackled with violet dark mana as it sliced toward Dale’s throat, shrieking while tearing through the air. As their weapons clashed, a deafening metallic cry rang out, louder than before. Then, Dale’s sword shattered in his hands, fragments scattering to the ground.

“My, my! What a shame. Your sword’s broken?” Laxasia remarked.

She wasted no time, striking again. The whip’s jagged, thorn-like tip lunged for his neck. In response, Dale thrust his hand out toward the oncoming strike. It was the Berald Combat Style: Blade Breaker. His magic-infused hand seized the whip’s thorn and crushed it to pieces.

Shards dug into his palm, blood dripping freely. But he raised his bleeding hand slowly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“If it breaks, I’ll just make another one,” he finally replied.

Blood streamed down his palm and twisted, reshaping itself into a sword. Right now, he was wielding the Demon Sword, Veskal, a cursed weapon that fed on its wielder’s blood in exchange for granting immense power, gleaming with a sinister light.

Recognizing the familiar aura radiating from the weapon, Laxasia frowned. “Oh? Heroes are allowed to wield things like that now?”

“A weapon doesn’t make a hero,” Dale replied.

She clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed. “You really can’t shut that mouth of yours, can you, brat? Let’s see how long that smart mouth of yours lasts!”

Her dark mana surged, and the whip in her hand shimmered a deep, violent purple. With a vicious roar, the whip struck down. “Die!”

Its sonic crack rolled through the cavern like thunder. Sword and whip collided once more. As the exchanges continued, a grin slowly spread across Laxasia’s lips.

By now… his mana should be running out, she thought.

Even just the mana she had stolen from him through the Blessing of Exploitation was more than most mid-rank heroes possessed. From what she had gauged earlier, he had probably drained himself of his reserves by now.

However, flames wreathed his blade, narrowly grazing her. She frowned, staring hard at him. “Ugh!”

Why? Why was he still fine? Dale’s mana wasn’t depleting. If anything, it felt just as strong as when he had started. No, it seemed to have grown slightly stronger.

“How? How is your mana not running out?” she asked.

“It’s been about five minutes, hasn’t it?”

“What?”

Dale glanced at his Hero Watch to check the time. “At his speed, Yuren should be reaching the ruins’ exit about now.”

“This is hardly the time to be worrying about that, don’t you think?”

“No, it matters.” With a faint smile, Dale pressed a hand over his chest. “Otherwise, they might get caught up in this.”

He then whispered, “Burn.”

Like sparks on dry kindling, the ashen flames around his body roared violently to life.

Laxasia’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “What the…?”

Whatever magic he had invoked, his mana didn’t just double; it exploded, nearly tripling in an instant.

What the hell is this bastard?

She had stolen his mana with the Blessing of Exploitation. Yet instead of being drained, his mana had increased? However, composing herself, she said, “Gah! All that means is there’ll be even more for me to exploit!”

With a furious cry, she lashed out again. Her whip, infused with the Blessing of Exploitation, tore toward Dale. Every strike siphoned off more mana. Her soul stigmata swelled, brimming with power to the point of bursting.

Despite that, her breath grew ragged. She was overflowing with stolen mana, yet the dark mana she herself could control was dwindling at an alarming pace. Mana and dark mana were both derived from the Tree of Creation, so with a bit of conversion, she could replenish her reserves. But in a battle fought by the second, she had no chance to perform even that simple conversion.

Why? Why isn’t his mana running out? she wondered.

Even though her soul stigmata had absorbed an overwhelming flood of mana, enough to burst, it didn’t matter. The mana pouring out of Dale didn’t diminish in the slightest. No, if anything, the longer the fight dragged on, the more his mana seemed to grow. It was as if he were like an endless sea, a sky with no horizon, a flame that would never burn out.

Laxasia screamed in a voice that was more despair than rage, “Ah!Ugh! Where the hell did a monster like you come from?”

If people could see this fight, some would probably claim that she had simply been careless. But how was she supposed to prepare for a monster dropping from the sky without warning? It was like telling someone never to step outside for fear of an earthquake. How could anyone possibly predict that such a creature would be hiding among a nameless group of rookie heroes that didn’t even make the top hundred in the Tri-Nation Hero Rankings?

It was like a natural disaster. Yes, that was what Dale was to her—a calamity, no different from a hurricane that struck without warning.

Laxasia cursed furiously. “You… damn… bastard!”

She lashed her whip.

Dale smirked. “Heh.”

He snatched it out of the air with one hand. With a sharp yank, he also dragged her against her will. Then, his fist slammed into her face.

She choked on blood and tumbled backward, skidding across the ground. “Guhhh! Y-you…! You little!”

Clutching her cheek, her face twisted with fury. “How dare you put a mark on my beautiful face?”

Her jaw clenched with a harsh grind of teeth. She raised her hand, purple miasma erupting from her body, coalescing into countless jagged spikes in the air.

Laxasia screamed, “I’ll tear you to pieces!”

As the violet spikes rained down like a storm, Dale simply let out a dry laugh, unbothered by the deadly barrage. “You talk like you’re some great beauty. Honestly, you’re not even all that.”

He raised his sword slowly, aiming at the descending storm. Ashen Flames burned across its edge, gathering at the tip into a single, massive orb. The sphere condensed into a blazing mass, greedily devouring everything around it. He unleashed the Ashen Flame Style Third Form: Flame Lance. The searing orb shot forward, hurling straight toward Laxasia.

She shrieked as it swallowed her whole. “KYAAAAAH!”

The orb flung her aside like she were a rag doll.

Trembling, bloodied, barely clinging to consciousness, Laxasia looked up at Dale with wide, shaking eyes. “Ah!Ugh! Wha… What the hell are you?”

She was known as the weakest of the Archbishops when it came to sheer power, but even so, she had always considered herself more than capable of handling any hero outside the top five without difficulty. She had never dreamed that she would be driven to such humiliation by a hero who didn’t even rank within the top hundred.

“How? How does some nobody I’ve never even heard of wield power like this?”

In desperation, she forced every last drop of dark mana into her whip. “Damn you!”

She struck him, but the Ashen Flames surged again. It consumed her weapon instantly, reducing it to nothing but falling black dust.

Her eyes quivered as she stared at him. “A-ah!”

Dale walked toward her, slow and steady. Grey smoke spread like a mist, flames writhed and roared, and his eerie green eyes gleamed in the haze.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. “Ahh!

”

A foul, suffocating dread clung to her, choking her breath, and her throat burned with a thirst like fire.

She could not win. Laxasia knew it, bone-deep and instinctive. That monster wasn’t the same species as the heroes she had fought before. It was like rolling a die numbered one through six and somehow getting a seven. His very existence broke the rules of the world she thought she knew. The moment that truth sank in, overwhelming fear swallowed her whole.

She begged in a trembling voice, “P-please, spare me.”

There were countless kinds of desire—greed, lust, hunger, vanity, the craving for power, or possessions—but the most primal, the most powerful of all, was the will to survive and the desire to live. That instinct crushed her pride as easily as stepping on a bug.

She clung to his leg, looking up at him with tearful desperation. “I’ll do anything you say!”

He stopped, towering above her as she groveled.

She glanced up at him, curling her lips into a sultry smile. “I’ll be your woman, alright? You’re dating that Iris girl, aren’t you? I can give you pleasures she never could.”

Yes, he stopped! This is good, she thought.

A spark of hope glimmered in her eyes. “Well? Not a bad offer, right?”

“No thanks.”

Her expression faltered. “What? W-what, you’re worried I’ll betray you? I can swear an oath, or you can bind me with a spell if you want.”

“No. That’s not it,” Dale replied.

He studied her face quietly. To be fair, she wasn’t unattractive.

He contemplated it. “But, hmm.”

The images of Iris and Yurina flashed beside her in his mind. Seeing them side by side made it obvious.

He finally said, “You’re just… not really worth the trouble.”

“W-what did you say?”

He had worded it politely enough, but the meaning was clear. She wasn’t pretty enough for him to bother. The proud Archbishop of Desire, Laxasia, whose identity was built on seduction, felt her dignity crushed into dust.

She moved to lunge at him. “You. You bastard!”

However, before she could accomplish that, his ashfire-clad sword pierced her.

“Guh!Ughh—”

Her scream was cut short as her body crumbled into black ash, scattering into the air.

Dale exhaled, lowering his sword. The flames that had raged wildly at his command gradually receded. Unlike the time he had lost control before, the inferno obeyed his will now, dying out at his pace.

It would probably seem like a petty revenge to someone watching this, but the memory of her twisted, broken expression made him chuckle.

Iris had once told him that the scriptures of the Seven Star Cult said, “Revenge is a cloud that darkens the heart. Forgiveness is the sunlight that clears it.”

“What a load of crap,” he said.

Right now, he felt nothing but refreshed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep