Eclahim of the Royal City (5)
A cloud of dust obscured the view, the golden explosion causing walls and ceilings to crumble, releasing a musty stench that had been trapped for centuries.
Dalen stood still amidst the dust cloud, holding his retrieved axe.
In the sealed space, the smoke didn’t disperse easily. If an assassin were to strike back, now would be the perfect moment.
Swish—
As if on cue, a dagger shot out from his blind spot on the left, aiming for his throat.
Whoosh!
He twisted his waist to dodge, and as if anticipating his move, a long spear thrust towards him.
Clang!
He hooked the axe onto the spear to block it. At that moment, several throwing knives sliced through the smoke.
Whizz—!
Thin blades targeted his legs, arms, and shoulders.
It was as if they had predicted his movements, aiming for the most difficult spots to defend.
‘…Precognition?’
Boom!
He stomped the ground, sending debris flying and sweeping away the knives. He sensed a flinch beyond the smoke, but it was fleeting.
The attacks came as if predicting the future, beyond mere strategy.
Whether he blocked or dodged, the next move was always anticipated, with daggers or knives flying his way.
“This is unexpected. I didn’t think you’d bring your entire faction.”
In the midst of an onslaught that could turn even a superhuman into a pincushion in seconds, Dalen deflected every attack, muttering to himself.
“You pretended to care for your son, but it seems you were ready to sacrifice all your children.”
”······!”
His nonchalant remark elicited a tense reaction from beyond the smoke.
Dalen twisted the wrist holding a poisoned dagger, a smirk playing on his lips.
Pikake Skymass, a high-ranking officer of the Dark Moon Clan.
Dalen knew quite a bit about him, including that he ruled one of the six factions thanks to his exceptional martial arts and the precognitive ability in his blood, which his children inherited.
Of course, this precognition wasn’t on the level of prophecy like the Seer of the White Eye.
Even the strongest, Pikake himself, could only see a little over a second into the future.
But in battles where victory and defeat are decided in fractions of a second, precognition is a deadly advantage.
Still, to think he’d bring his entire force.
“Don’t worry. I won’t just send your children. There’s no better grave for rats than the sewers of a big city. Today marks the end of a Dark Moon faction.”
[…Fools! Are you going to let him run his mouth? Don’t be afraid. This is the underground of a city with hundreds of thousands of people. He can’t use his domain here!]
Perhaps finally provoked by the endless taunts, Pikake’s voice echoed through the sewer tunnels, filled with rage.
‘Bingo.’
And Dalen grinned fiercely.
No matter how powerful an artifact weapon is, a high-ranking officer of the Dark Moon Clan wouldn’t be taken down by a single explosion.
The disappearance of his presence after the explosion wasn’t because he was dead.
He had merely used the shock and aftermath to hide, maintaining a stealth that even Dalen’s senses and unique skills couldn’t easily detect.
But once he spoke, he couldn’t escape the pursuit of the Grey Map.
“There you are.”
In his mind, Pikake’s location appeared on a black-and-white map.
[Kill him—!]
Realizing instinctively that his position had been discovered, Pikake howled in desperation.
As Dalen moved, dozens of blades sliced through the smoke towards him.
Swish—!
Poison darts, serrated daggers, needle-like knives, and silent lead bullets.
The assassins’ combined assault, masked by smoke, was threatening even to a superhuman with a domain.
Not because each attack was powerful, but because every trajectory and angle was meticulously calculated to predict his movements.
However, this meant it wasn’t a carefully orchestrated strategy but an attack relying on precognition to exploit spontaneous openings.
For Dalen, who had honed his instincts to near-precognitive levels through battles with transcendents, this was an assault he had no reason to fall for.
Inhale—
In a moment of inhalation, his accelerated consciousness analyzed the enemy’s offensive with just a few exchanges.
He prioritized responses based on the power, direction, speed, and target of each attack.
Swish!
As he mapped out every trajectory in his mind, whirlwinds wrapped around his arms and legs.
「Technique Armor: White Wind Armor」
「Gale」
Crash—!
It was like a graceful dance.
Dozens of whirlwinds weaved between attacks, not just blocking but intercepting and using them as his own.
Thud!
A spear thrust deeply pierced a comrade’s chest.
Thud! Screech!
Daggers and knives flew past their targets, embedding themselves in the ratmen’s hides.
He deflected a dagger with the back of his hand, lightly kicked a gaping maw.
He tilted his head to dodge a bullet aimed at his temple, flicking his fingers to redirect it into another ratman’s face.
With a simple gesture, gusts of wind moved in multiple directions, intercepting and returning every attack.
To others, it might seem miraculous.
But for Dalen, who had faced a transcendent attacking with eight clones on the Grey Earth, it was a yawn-inducing assault.
“Screech!”
“Chirp! Gah!”
“Retreat! Retreat!”
In an instant, a third of the dozens of assassins fell, and the rest, finally coming to their senses, fled in panic.
The dust cloud dissipated, replaced by the metallic scent of blood from the fallen ratmen in the sewer.
Dalen rolled his shoulders and spoke.
“Is it my turn now?”
And in the next moment.
「Thunderbolt」
Crackle!
A streak of blue lightning filled the sewer tunnel.
The sound of rats echoed through the old sewer.
It wasn’t unusual for the sewers of a big city to be a haven for rats.
The only difference was that the rats’ cries sounded somewhat human.
And amidst them, the sound of walls and ceilings collapsing mixed in.
Crash! Boom—
The sewer ceiling crumbled, a streak of blue lightning shooting through.
The flash, accompanied by thunder, tore through three ratmen and severed the fourth’s waist.
Splash! Splash!
Corpses sank into the rushing sewage.
In the depths of the sewer, where much sewage gathered, the water was deep.
Tap-tap-tap—
Dalen ran across the water as if it were solid ground.
After decimating the Dark Moon members with his Thunderbolt, he pursued the fleeing Pikake.
The escape route clearly mapped in his mind suggested he could catch Pikake after a few more turns.
[Stop him! Stop him!]
As he rounded a corner, Pikake’s voice echoed through the tunnel.
The ratmen who had been fleeing turned and charged at his command.
Screech!
Chirp! Screech!
The fear that had gripped them vanished, their black eyes gleaming with madness and bloodlust as they charged.
It was the result of the brainwashing-like training and education in the Dark Moon’s training process.
“Tsk.”
Though they posed no real threat, it was a minor annoyance for the hunter.
He needed to retrieve the last body and prepare for the demons’ invasion. Wasting time on an assassin wasn’t ideal.
The only silver lining was that Pikake’s escape route led to the place where Dalen was headed to retrieve the last body.
Deep in the sewer, the Dark Moon’s base and hideout in Eclahim.
It seemed Pikake intended to make his last stand there.
Screech!
A ratman hanging from the ceiling lunged at him. Its massive size was comparable to a high orc.
Dallon flicked his wrist lightly, and a hand axe flew from the corridor behind him, embedding itself squarely between the rat-man’s eyes.
Splash!
A shriek pierced the air as the creature, even with an axe lodged in its skull, thrashed its muscular limbs, trying to claw its way toward Dallon’s back.
With another flick of his wrist, a golden explosion erupted from the creature’s forehead, shattering its massive body into pieces.
Boom!
Calculating the distance with each throw and using the artifact’s power at just the right moment wasn’t particularly difficult for Dallon. As his abilities evolved with each battle, the focus shifted to strategy and tactical maneuvers.
Transcendents were not just powerful; they could impose their own reality onto the world. They couldn’t be defeated by sheer force alone. Even brute strength had to be wielded as part of a psychological game to secure victory.
Screech!
Crunch!
Dallon methodically dispatched the frenzied rat-men, pursuing Pikake deeper into the sewer’s labyrinthine depths. The chase led them past sections overflowing with sewage, into abandoned tunnels long forgotten, where even the waste had dried up.
At the end of this forsaken path, a massive iron door blocked Dallon’s way.
Crash!
With a single swing of his axe, the door shattered, revealing a vast hall beyond. Softly glowing magic stones illuminated the space, their light casting shadows on the intricate carvings adorning the ceiling. Thick stone pillars supported the structure, each flanked by tarnished yet undiminished metal statues. At the far end, a wide hexagonal table stood atop a set of stairs.
“Heh… You’ve come far, warrior. This is the hidden sanctuary of the Shadowmoon Order… a fitting tomb for someone like you.”
Pikake Skymass stood atop the hexagonal table, panting as if exhausted, yet a triumphant smile played across his face. With a sinister chuckle, he pressed a paw onto the gem at the table’s center.
In an instant, the magic stones’ light vanished, plunging the hall into darkness.
Thud!
From the ceiling, a mechanism whirred to life, and something massive dropped to the floor. Even in the pitch-black, its presence was palpable—a deep, rumbling breath, the stench of ancient fur, and the warmth of a beast’s breath brushing against the skin.
“One of the guardians of the Shadowmoon Order, a pet of the first finger, a monster that devoured a transcendent of its time. Heh… You should be enough to sate its centuries-long hunger.”
From the other side of the hall, Pikake’s mocking laughter echoed. At the same time, a dozen pairs of eyes, glowing like embers, fixed hungrily on their prey.
Dallon didn’t meet the creature’s gaze. Instead, he focused on the words that appeared in the darkness above.
[You have discovered the corpse of the Betrayed Dark God’s Herald.]
A flood of memories surged from beyond the monitor—scenes of the world burning under the banner of the dark god Enaxagus. But now wasn’t the time for reflection. Pushing aside his thoughts, Dallon sheathed his axe and drew his sword.
He paused, then spoke with a wry smile. “Ah, I almost forgot to thank you.”
”…What?” Pikake’s voice came from the shadows, puzzled.
Dallon chuckled. “I’ve been wondering how to retrieve that for days. I couldn’t break the seal myself, and I thought I’d have to bring down the entire ceiling. Thanks for solving that problem for me.”
Even when sending someone off, it’s only polite to say goodbye.