Chapter 126: Chapter 125 – Devon versus Goliath 

To deny Solomon’s invitation is to defy the will of one of the thirteen great demon clan lords. Such a transgression will not be allowed by one so puny, foolish mortal. I have no choice but to take you by force, now. 

“Yeah? Why don’t you try!” Devon shouted, brandishing his moonlight steel sword. The fearless main character charged with his full body and swung the sword at the behemoth’s leg with a wild and reckless swing. 

The blade of the sword dug into the behemoth’s mammoth-wide leg, cutting through the thinner scales near the ankle. Normal swords would find it hard to damage a beast like the behemoth, but Devon’s sword was not just any normal sword. The weapon he brandished was worth several thousand points in the points shop back in purgatory, a legendary named blade that possessed the coveted anti-ALL property, making it extremely effective against all species and elements, including leviathan-class sized demons. 

His moonlight steel sword possessed several other characteristics which Devon had still not uncovered, one of which being the weight behind every swing and its penetrative ability amplified based on Devon’s mana, and now that Devon had [Blessing of the Witch], his mana pool was an untapped ocean, with more room to grow as he cultivated his power. 

He was a second chance program participant with some of the most powerful tools in all the realms at his disposal. All he needed was the will and the knowledge to utilize them. 

The behemoth sneered initially as Devon attacked him. No matter how powerful of a mortal warrior he was, the sheer size difference between this puny human warrior and himself was too much to overcome. A sword stab from him would amount to nothing but a mosquito bite. Insignificant. 

Of course, his master was also of a similar size as this human. There was a difference, though. King Solomon’s strength was boundless, and his magic peerless. Very few could challenge a demon clan lord in combat regardless of size. 

The behemoth’s sneer turned into a frown as he reeled back in surprise, noticing that the ever so slightly glowing silvery sword that the mortal held in his small hands dug into his flesh painfully, like a sharp mosquito sting. But that wasn’t all. The small cut that it left continued to throb in pain, a numbness spreading around the area where the cut landed. And the pain and numbness continued to spread, like a festering wound, until it encapsulated a volume the size of his little toe. 

The pain was still insignificant in the bigger picture, but how could a mere mortal’s blade damage him to this extent? All the other humans that the behemoth faced thus far were easily squashed like the mosquitoes they were. 

The behemoth narrowed his eyes, fixating on the blade. That silvery sheen, the craftsmanship, and that unmistakable golden pommel that glowed with divine mana… He gasped, a sharp intake of air through his curved teeth and massive jaw. To make a being as large and as regal as him gasp was no trivial matter. 

In that boy’s hands was a blade made with the pommel of the sacred artifact known to the demons as the Mjolnir, a weapon of peerless divine energy that could transform into the form of a celestial hammer. A prized possession of one of the dwarven gods, it was incomplete in its current form, missing the original blade, and yet the material of the replacement blade had undeniable quality. 

The behemoth shuddered. The Mjolnir was last used during the Battle of the Celestial Realm during the demon uprising several thousand of years ago. He personally fought in that battle, and the sight of that accursed divine blade which could conjure a colossal apparition of pure divine energy coalesced into the shape of a hammer was forever etched into his memory. Many of his kind fell in battle during that uprising, and behemoths were far stronger then than they were now, before the demon clan leaders subjugated them. At least four of his kind fell to the Mjolnir alone on that day. The memories of that battle made his old scars itch and his body tremble. Oh, what a terror it was to face the Mjolnir, each blow of the hammer crushing through the body of one of his tribe like it was paper, each slice of the blade cutting so easily through his cousin’s torso. 

Ah, the Mjolnir… to see such a weapon resurface now, in an incomplete state… Who was backing this mortal? How did he manage to get his hands on a piece of such a powerful divine weapon? 

The ancient demon could only praise high heaven that on this day, he was not facing the completed Mjolnir. 

The blade sank into his foot once more, cutting right through the scales. A searing pain flared up across the behemoth’s body, but not where the blade just struck. The harrowing pain arose from his old wounds, wounds from the Battle of the Celestial Realm. A slash in the back of his hide that nearly reached his organs, a crushing wound that broke his ribs into several pieces… every place that the Mjolnir wounded him on that day of battle now opened up in searing pain. 

He let out a tormented howl into the air. 

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