Translator: CinderTL
The moment the holy light and darkness intertwined, gradually being corrupted by the eerie abyssal power, alarm bells rang in Roland's mind.
Without hesitation, he abruptly retreated, shouting a warning to Gloria:
"Get back! Don't get close!"
But his warning came a split second too late.
Completely driven by the abyssal power, Arno displayed terrifying speed and agility that defied reason.
Having just clashed with and forced Roland back, Arno twisted his body mid-air with impossible contortions, defying the laws of physics as he abruptly changed direction. He transformed into a dark, smoky blur, lunging straight toward Gloria.
His speed was so great that only a fleeting afterimage remained on the retina.
"Protect Your Highness!"
Sven roared like a wild beast, and he and Fide surged forward almost simultaneously, throwing themselves in front of Gloria without hesitation.
The blood qi within their bodies erupted violently. This wasn't Battle Qi cultivated through training, but primal, untamed blood qi surging from their life essence, coiling around their massive frames like crimson flames.
Sven swung his giant axe in a whirlwind, its blade whistling through the air with a piercing shriek. Fide's heavy sword radiated a profound, oppressive aura. Side by side, they stood like two unbreakable blood-red bulwarks, fearlessly confronting the inhuman monster.
After activating his abyssal power, Arno's strength completely overwhelmed them.
Boom!
Clang!
Two thunderous explosions echoed in quick succession.
Arno didn't even need to use refined sword techniques. He simply swung his abyssal energy-infused arms left and right with blinding speed.
The pitch-black power clashed violently with the boiling blood qi, producing a corrosive hissing sound.
Sven's massive axe was ripped from his grasp by an unimaginable force, his entire arm twisting at an unnatural angle.
Fide's heavy sword shattered instantly. He spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered backward.
In a single exchange, two mighty barbarians were instantly defeated.
Even more chilling was the way the searing blood qi leaking from their wounds seemed drawn by an invisible force, coalescing into crimson threads that were greedily absorbed and devoured by the darkness surrounding Arno.
"Ugh... AAAAAH!"
Arno threw back his head and unleashed a roar that no human could produce—a sound blending pain, fury, and a bone-chilling sense of satisfaction.
He leaped into the air, towering over Roland, the wounded Sven and Fide, and Gloria, who was being tightly guarded behind them.
A glacial contempt flickered in his pure black eyes, as if he were looking at mere inanimate objects.
Immediately afterward, a chilling, wet, tearing sound erupted from behind him.
It was as if something was desperately struggling to break free from its fleshy prison.
Before the horrified eyes of everyone present, a pair of grotesque wings—covered in a viscous membrane, interwoven with crimson flesh and stark white bones—suddenly pierced through his back, tearing through his robes and skin.
Dripping with dark blood, the wings slowly but resolutely unfurled.
By now, Arno's skin was completely covered in crimson lava-like fissures. His eyes had become bottomless black holes, and his fingertips had transformed into razor-sharp, obsidian claws.
He hovered in the air, his twisted wings fluttering slightly, scattering a nauseatingly foul, bloody wind.
Though he still retained a vaguely human silhouette, he now resembled a horrifying creature—a fusion of human and demonic traits—that had crawled from the deepest abyss.
Roland, observing Arno floating in the air, keenly noticed something beyond the boiling blood qi he had stolen from Sven and Fide.
The silver-white Battle Qi, originally cultivated through the knight's breathing technique, was now being slowly but relentlessly corroded and assimilated by the viscous darkness, as if being transformed into a part of the abyss's power.
And just as Roland was analyzing this bizarre phenomenon,
Arno moved.
He completely ignored Gloria, who stood ready with her Holy Mark Power activated, her body radiating a pure, holy light. To him, she seemed utterly insignificant.
His target, from the beginning, had always been Roland, the only one capable of facing him head-on.
Swoosh!
With a piercing sound that tore through the air, Arno descended like a deep-sea falcon locking onto its prey, his descent radiating suffocating pressure.
His twisted, fleshy wings ripped through the air, emitting a shrill, tearing sound like tattered cloth.
Clang!
Their clawed blades clashed again with savage force, unleashing a deafening roar far more violent and ear-splitting than before.
Roland's arm sank, and the ground beneath his feet cracked inch by inch.
He could clearly sense that Arno's strength now rivaled his own fully merged dragon bloodline, perhaps even surpassing it in sheer ferocity.
Worse still, the exhaustion and injuries that had plagued Arno earlier had vanished completely. His physical condition seemed to have reverted to its peak, possibly even exceeding it.
In the span of a few breaths, the two had already exchanged over a dozen rapid blows.
Sword shadows collided violently with darkness-shrouded claws, their energy clashing with each strike, causing Roland's qi and blood to surge violently.
Arno's fighting style had undergone a radical transformation. Gone was the meticulously honed technique of before, replaced by a brutal, direct approach that relied on absolute speed and strength to achieve devastating efficiency.
Intertwined with this overwhelming force was the insidious, all-pervasive nature of abyssal energy.
Roland found himself completely suppressed, forced to retreat step by step, clearly at a disadvantage.
Yet, despite this dire situation, no trace of panic flickered in Roland's eyes.
He parried, dodged, and calmly observed every detail of his opponent, his mind racing at full speed.
"The surge in strength and agility was within expectations... but this abyssal power... it can enhance itself by corrupting and absorbing other forms of energy? Sven's blood qi, even my own Battle Qi, have been converted..."
What truly alarmed Roland was that Arno hadn't lost his sanity, yet his personality had undergone a drastic transformation.
The cold calculation and cunning of a High Duke had been replaced by a nearly manic, arrogant self-assurance that disregarded all others.
In the instant Roland's body faltered slightly from a heavy blow, leaving a minuscule opening, Arno could have pressed his advantage and widened the gap.
But he didn't.
The figure covered in dark crimson fissures, radiating an ominous aura, abruptly ceased its pursuit.
He hovered nearby, his twisted, fleshy wings slowly flapping, his pure black eyes swirling with undisguised, cat-and-mouse-like amusement and contempt.
He seemed to relish Roland's slightly disheveled state, reveling in this absolute sense of dominance.
He even waited, allowing Roland time to regain his composure and assume a defensive stance.
Only then did he let out a low, inhumanly hoarse laugh laced with mockery before transforming into a bolt of black lightning and lunging forward once more.
This sudden, unnecessary "mercy" confirmed Roland's suspicions.
The abyss's power was amplifying the most extreme aspects of Arno's nature to an infinite degree.
Sword light and shadow clashed violently, each collision sending shockwaves that made the air hum.
Roland's blood boiled, and the Mithril Longsword in his hand blazed with an unprecedented intensity, nearly banishing the surrounding darkness.
Yet even amidst this chaos, Roland's mind remained as calm as a deep pool or an ancient well, undisturbed by the raging storm.
Arno reveled in the abyss's gifts, but Roland concealed his own hidden edge.
Steadfastly parrying the corrosive strikes, Roland calmly analyzed the battlefield and his own capabilities.
He had already deployed every awakened trait and enhancement applicable to combat.
What remained were the forbidden powers deeply rooted within his bloodline—the bloodline secret art—and the dragon breath he had gained upon becoming a dragonborn.
Activating the bloodline secret art and supplementing it with dragon breath, he was absolutely confident he could tear apart the mutated monster before him.
However, since acquiring these two powers, he had never used them in actual combat.
What unforeseen side effects might they unleash?
No one knew.
Moreover, activating them would mean exposing all his secrets to the public eye.
But now was clearly not the time for such concerns.
His resolve hardened.
Roland channeled his strength, his sword sweeping aside Arno's black smoke-wreathed claws, and used the momentum to retreat half a step.
As his will focused, a continuous stream of positive energy surged from the Mithril Longsword into his body. After undergoing some mysterious transformation, it flowed back into the blade, coalescing into a light even more radiant and perilous than before.
He prepared to unleash Holy Strike once more.
Not to defeat the enemy, but to buy himself a fleeting moment—just enough time to activate his ultimate power without interruption.
Yet, in the instant before that power could be unleashed...
A voice, utterly unexpected, echoed in his ear.
It was as gentle as the first rays of dawn piercing through thick clouds, yet as resonant as a voice that could soothe the soul directly. Within it lingered a hint of...
A faint amusement, as if having witnessed the passage of countless ages.
(End of the Chapter)
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