Chapter 145: A True Immortal Arts Practitioner

Chapter 145: A True Immortal Arts Practitioner

The hundred and ten holy servants stepped their way into the depths. As they made their way past one desolate cavern after another, they gradually gathered speed.

A golden-haired woman with purple eyes led the charge, marching in the front as she kept her eyes peeled for any enemy activity. Her name had been Pitria. But now, that name meant nothing to her. All she was was servitude itself, no more important than a single sword-swing by the Great God’s Holy Proginy.

She couldn’t stop her heart from leaping in joy at the fact that her death would be so glorious. Oh, the jealousy she saw in that wretched Brivia’s eyes was something that she would savor until her very end. What potential the impeccable demigod saw in that woman was not for her question. But she couldn’t stop herself from committing that one tiny act of blasphemy in the depths of her soul.

Even if the demigod had forgiven her, even if the heavens themselves had excused her sins, it didn’t change the fact that she had born a child that turned its nasty fangs against the Heavenly Alliance.

Alas, those thoughts would be purged with her death. Her beauty as the most valiant servant would excuse her minor transgression.

Although with their number advantage, it would be wisest to split up, they knew that that would make them extremely vulnerable. The child had already proven itself capable of taking down someone at the second stage of subdivinity—splitting up would be a recipe for getting picked apart one by one.

Thus, they marched together, prepared to lay their lives down at any moment if it meant making any progress toward catching the child. Their path took them deeper and deeper. For many hours, they found nothing but greater depths and scattered monsters.

Until they stepped into a vast, open cavern of pure darkness. It was too dark. Unnaturally so. There was a trick involved, and the air itself was filled with an alchemical substance that could almost entirely block even their superior vision.

A sound echoed through the empty space. It was akin to metallic grating, with an electric, deep hum undertoning it.

“Wait!” she commanded. “There is something in here.” She could sense it.

Suddenly, right in the middle of the empty cavern, two purple dots lit up in the darkness. In an instant, the air grew transparent, and they could see their opponent.

But it wasn’t who they expected to see.

A two-meter tall figure clad in full, black armor stood in the middle of the room. A purple glow accented the joints.

Something about that figure was deeply unnatural. She couldn’t sense any cultivation coming from it, but the inside of the armor was brimming with intense energy.

The black figure suddenly spoke, “WELCOME,” it said in a monotone, metallic voice that sounded like it was almost being filtered through something. “TARGETS DETECTED: ONE HUNDRED AND TEN. INTIATING PROTOCOL ONE: FIRST STRIKE.”

The being lifted its left arm, and its palm opened to show a circular opening blaring with purple energy. In a mere moment, the energy density spiked way beyond anything reasonable as it compressed and sent a pure beam of thin, purple energy flying toward their group.

“Evade!” she screamed, but it was too late.

A woman’s torso was speared straight through, the armor melting away like ice in the path of the intense beam of energy. She coughed a small plume of smoke and spat a bucket of blood as she dropped dead to the ground.

“OH SHIT,” the armored form spoke again, this time in a slightly more human-sounding cadence. “I DID NOT EXPECT THAT TO ACTUALLY KILL SOMEONE.”

Pitria screamed in primal fury as she charged at the figure at a speed it clearly wasn’t prepared to face. Her greatsword rose to strike the armored form down. But the armored individual was already raising its right arm. From right above the wrist, a black blade rushed out, catching her by surprise.

She moved from an attack to a block. That turned out to be a mistake. The black blade vibrated so intensely that it felt like it was shaking the space itself apart. Upon making contact with her greatsword, even though it felt like it was of inferior material, it still left deep cracks running along the length of her weapon.

Her enemy tried to use her moment of bewilderment to kick her in the stomach, but that failed as she used her superior speed to get out of the way. She was ashamed to admit that without her overwhelming speed advantage, she would stand no chance against this opponent.

The moment she used to dodge, however, wasn’t wasted by her opponent as it conjured another beam of purple energy that speared another one of her comrades, killing them instantly.

She screamed as she kicked the armored form right in the torso. The material that armor was made of didn’t even budge under the force of her strike, but she was able to send her opponent flying back.

The rest of her allies weren’t pushovers. They wouldn’t take it lying down. Numerous flying strikes of pure white, be they in the form of crescent moons or straight beams or physical arrows, rushed at the armored form while it was still in the air.

Their opponent either deflected the attacks or dodged them with insulting ease, treating the residual energy that brushed against its armor as less significant than the air itself.

Before the black figure could land, a man wielding a heavy axe rushed in to slice him apart at the waist, and it truly appeared like he would succeed, until the absolute last moment, when their enemy flicked its arm and severed both the axe in half and the man right down the middle.

It would be trivial to dodge it. Would, if ten of her comrades didn’t sacrifice their lives to seal the armored form in place again for a mere moment.

The horn tore the armored form apart, and the room went silent. Only fifty people were still alive.

Terror, unlike anything she had ever felt in her life, filled her body to the brim as she heard that same noise again.

One... two... three... ten more armored forms appeared around them as they stepped into the cavern.

Even though they had already sacrificed their lives, they couldn’t help but lose all hope as their morale plummeted. One head after another rolled under the tyrannical charge of the black forms. In mere seconds, they killed five people each and left the room empty of life.

All except her, who still stood, her body mangled and both her arms hanging uselessly to the side.

Her eyes were wide open as she witnessed the carnage. Suddenly, a glowing form of a slime rushed into the room and collected all the bodies before disappearing. As it vanished, the ten armored figures turned to face her, sending an intense shiver down her spine.

But then, out of nowhere, a man appeared. The tall form of Hosolar manifested from nothing and stood right before her with Brivia by his side.

“You have done a good job,” was all he said to her.

That was enough for her. With that, she could die happy as the last of her life force burned away and her body dropped dead to the ground.

***

‘Uh-oh, the big boss himself showed up,’ Neave thought.

“YO, WHAT’S UP, HOSOLAR!?” he greeted the man through one of the golorgs as if he were greeting an old friend. “I HEARD YOUR DAD’S PRETTY ANGRY WITH ME.”

“Silence, demonic entity,” his mother, whom he had been ignoring until then, said. “Do not speak to the demigod so casually.”

“Awww... I thought you’d let me play a bit, Mom,” he teased in his regular voice as he turned off the voice converter. “You better spoil me rotten if you want forgiveness for abandoning me.”

She showed no reaction to that. Pity.

Hosolar sighed. “I see you are unmoved by the appearance of your mother. Truly, you are beyond saving.”

Neave shrugged as he faced his mother again. “Mother... If you want, I can still forgive you. Marven still misses you.” He stretched his arm out.

Her face morphed into the picture of anger at those words. “How dare you mention that bastard’s name to me!?” she shouted. “All he ever did was ignore my warnings and advice as he allowed the sect to rot at the hands of those demons!” she yelled as he took an aggressive step forward. “I was forced to fake my death since I had no other escape from that hellish place! Every damn day they bullied and tormented me with their petty power games and politics.

“You should know what I’m talking about...” she said as her expression softened slightly. “Didn’t you destroy the sect for the same reason!? What right do you have to judge me for running away!?” Her screams turned into tears as something within her cracked. “And look what they did to you...” she said, unable to keep looking at the armored form Neave was speaking through.

“... Coward,” he shot back. “You fucking coward!” he screamed. “You can play the victim card all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you left me behind while you ran off to play with these tyrants!”

“Oh, please!” she spat. “You fit in just fine. You were turning out to be every bit the child your father wanted you to be. I couldn’t bear to stay behind and watch you rot as they corrupted you and took you away from me!”

That made Neave pause. Indeed, while his mother was still there, he had been on the trajectory to become the prodigy of the next generation. He learned fast and absorbed that lifestyle like a sponge did water. His life only changed once he thought she was dead. It was only then that he started feeling disgust at the violence she had lived by.

It was only then that he began fearing the instrument of her downfall.

A sense of sickness bubbled in the depths of his soul. Until that point, he had believed that he could maintain his indifference upon meeting her. He believed he had the absolute moral high ground. So why did...? Why did her story hold so much weight?

He felt deeply ill at her words. Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong. But if so, what should he—?

ҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾҾ

‘Take a seat back and watch, failure.’ words echoed in his mind as everything went dark. 'This is how a true immortal arts practitioner deals with a destroyer.’