Though not all Divine Secrets unlocked extra skills, when mastered, the first five each enabled Sages to use a special ability. The Divine State and Quantum Tunneling for the first two, and the Three Steps of the Preserver for the third secret.
Drawing its name from one of the Lord's monikers, the Three Steps of the Preserver was a rather strange skill that couldn't be activated unless the caster managed to let go of their bloodlust, negative emotions and really all their defenses. After letting go, the Sage prayed the Lord for protection, leaving their fate in foreign hands.
If the opponent also resolved to let go of their dark impulses, the battle ended. But if they approached the defenseless Sage with the slightest hint of nefarious intent, the Three Steps of the Preserver would kick in, destroying them instantly unless they possessed some form of divine protection.
But as some can imagine, asking a man to let go and surrender his life to the unknown is not very realistic. The most resourceful scoundrels also knew how to game the system, finding loopholes that helped them capture their opponent without a fight.
So, while in theory, all who mastered the Third Secret could use the Three Steps of the Preserver, in truth, only the Lord's devotees had enough faith in them to pull it off.
"HIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" An orchestra of high-pitched squeals hissed left and right. And as the undead Ricimer's corpse burst into blood particles, the sky took a sanguine shade, a drizzle of blood falling as the monarch's remains scattered into the void.
The moment next, a scarlet star took shape in the heavens, spreading its glow over the entirety of the Purple Dawn Continent. But as Vel'Asha's eyes narrowed at these atmospheric changes, a hoarse and mournful voice boomed throughout the land.
"Emphyria...za'hak...muk'bal!" Whether this was Ricimer's voice or someone else's no one could tell. Yet the voice echoed like a God-given command, imprinting on myriad lives in such a way that, while few still spoke this language, all managed to understand the words.
"The empire...forever victorious." Vel'Asha translated the words—unable to shake the familiar sensation that voice prompted in her chest.
Meanwhile, Mithras faced the First Zealot—considering his options.
The situation wasn't ideal. Mithras had about 30 to 45 seconds before he lost control of his Flawed Thesis and got reduced to ashes—not even a minute. But he now had to dispatch the Knight of Ahriman. One whose powers far exceeded that of his predecessor.
Truth be told, though far more powerful than his father ever was, Belphegor wasn't on Akamana's level. But as an undead male, he didn't have to fear half of Mithras' tricks. Akamana also wasn't fighting Mithras with genuine murderous desires, never aiming for his heart or other lethal moves of her deep arsenal, and fooled around long enough to get her brain messed up by his tyrant-class cum.
So tell me, oh knight of Ahriman. How much is a demigod worth...before a true deity?" Mithras asked in a rhetorical tone, and vanished, flanking Belphegor, with a ruthless and unforgiving swing. The Undead Knight's shield met the blow, attempting to deflect the force to send Mithras off balance.
Instead, Belphegor flew back, smacked off his feet by the dragon youth's herculean strength!
But a veteran of a thousand battlefields, Belphegor stayed composed—activating the Third Secret. The weight of his body reached mountainous heights, canceling the impact of Mithras' blow.
But the instant Belphegor landed, a crater formed underneath him, a natural result of the mountainous weight the Third Secret compacted in his undead body.
"Humph!" The ebony hammer swung forth. Mithras moved faster, the two meeting in a series of earthshaking collisions. With grating metallic clangs and deafening blasts rumbling Flameheart City.
Meanwhile, the 250 Lion-Headed Serpents flew into the sky, coiling on one another as if breaking into a mating dance. As the dance prolonged, Mithras' attributes improved as well, building up so fast that Belphegor now soared into the sky, sent flying by the force behind Mithras' hammer!
"A Mi...Mithraeum?" Belphegor whispered as he watched the mesmerizing dance of these 250 snakes.
Mithras appeared at the center of the dancing snakes, all beasts firing their essence at his hammer. A pyretic blaze of violet flames erupted from the dragon youth, and with a feral cry, Mithras hurtled at Belphegor, hammering down with the might of beast and god!
[Worldbreaker]
The Knight of Ahriman took the straightforward approach, activating his divine talent. A succession of sonic booms rocked the sky, and as the shadow of a dark mountain appeared above Belphegor, Mithras flew like a meteor, struggling to regain his balance.
But as the remaining Zealots celebrated their leader's might, Belphegor's saint-class hammer shattered—breaking into powdered debris. His right arm went numb, dropping from his shoulder as it turned into dust!
And so, for the first time in a millennium, the undead demigod's confidence...suffered massive and critical damage!