Chapter 57: Wrathful Hunter

A result of Kilian transmuting his bone armor into a light power armor, the obsidian energy armor gave Kilian's physical abilities a massive boost, while also strengthening his energy blasts and weapons.

The gargantuan blast embroiled the Desolate Knives' leader, sending him hurtling through the night sky and tumble in disarray. But before the leader's form could touch the ground, Kilian turned toward the two surviving High Emissaries and 28 templars. Sky-blue dra burst from Kilian's propulsors, propelling him at thrice his maximum speed to land before the first High Emissary.

*CRACK*

Swinging his right fist in a hook, Kilian smashed the armored punch into the High Emissary's jaw, breaking through his helmet to make him spiral across the air, and blast all his teeth in one go. He crashed on a distant tree—unconscious, but very much alive.

Faster than his opponents could follow, Kilian vanished to reappear above the remaining High Emissary, slammed his elbow into the helmet, shattering it, and fracturing the emissary's skull.

Stomping his foot, Kilian whirled to lunge at the 28 remaining templars, and with a single kick, sent them all spiraling across the air to crash in various locations. Only now did the Desolate Knives' leader tumble onto the ground, without catching his breath, Kilian charged him with a dra-coated, double punch!

But as his punches neared the cloaked leader, in an uncanny display of arcane skills, he sank into his shadow and vanished from Kilian's sight!

In utter silence, the man emerged from Kilian's shadow and thrust his fist into his back. Pitch black, shadow spikes emerged from his knuckles, threatening to sink past Kilian's armor.

Without looking back, Kilian threw a back kick at his assailant's fist, smashing into the left side of the blow with his dra-coated, armored foot.

*BANG*

In the instant fist and kick met, the propulsors in Kilian's foot denoted, triggering an energy blast that propelled him forward while pushing his foe back! Landing on his foot, instead of spinning to assess the assailant's position, Kilian sprinted toward the opposite tree, then backflipped three meters.

The man's dual knifehand thrusts nailed his afterimage.

The two now turned to assess one another.

"Incomprehensible. With just this level of strength, how can you possess such keen senses, and even warp space? No, there has to be something else. A mutation perhaps? Oh, I see. The legendary Eye of Fehl and its first two forms," the leader hypothesized. Through their exchange, he could see that while Kilian's strength far outpaced that of High Emissaries, it had yet to reach Archon territory.

That being the case, to say nothing of warping space, he shouldn't possess such astonishing reflexes. The only explanation was that underneath his helmet, a third eye hid, with its hue alternating between crimson and dark grey—the Eye of Fehl!

Thinking of that possibility, the leader teemed with glee. From the start, unaware of the depth of Kilian's abilities, he hid in the shadows and used his men as decoys to draw out the full measure of Kilian's skills. At the same time, he prepared a Sacrifice Ritual to turn the blood of the fallen into a power source ready to detonate at the opportune moment.

Little did he expect that from the very beginning, Kilian saw through his schemes, and played the lamb to eat the wolf—so to speak. If not for his cloak being a magical artifact, he couldn't even imagine his current fate. And even then, he'd sustained serious injuries.

But now, none of that mattered!

That Kilian wasn't an Archon, and therefore, couldn't challenge him!

"Boy, I admire your aptitudes and skills. The Technocracy's dominion is inevitable. Arcadia will soon bow to our order. Know that the right choice will open splendid doors to you, and you still have the opportunity to make it," the Archon leader reiterated the previous offer. As far as he was concerned, obliterating Kilian was no difficult task. Capturing him unharmed, however, was a wholly different matter.

The highest of all fehl mutations—the Eye of Fehl. If he could bring back such a living specimen, his position in the Technocracy would rise to a brand-new level! Alas, in Kilian's ears, such an offer deserved only one answer.

*BANG*

A spiked knee strike into the face!

But shockingly, though the spikes pierced the Archon's flesh, no blood poured forth. Following the initial impact, his face dissolved in a veil of darkness, making Kilian fly across his frame.

"To think those technocrats would immediately dispatch an Archon. What terrible luck. Breaching the hierarchy of magical ranks is no mean feat. Without Archon level dra control, Kilian might get the short end of the stick," Jezebel remarked with her back resting against a distant tree. Although Kilian's strength scaled on his dra reserves, an unavoidable condition was that he took his dra control to the next level. Otherwise, his dra reserves couldn't provide maximum use.

And while Kilian only stood a step away from the Archon level in dra control, that last step made all the difference. But hearing Jezebel's assessment, Lena vigorously disagreed.

"Impossible! If that's really the case, why didn't his excellency take us away in a dimensional rift? He must have a plan," Lena countered, standing beside Jezebel with her eyes gleaming confidence. However, Jezebel shook her head.

"It's not that he doesn't want to. The question is, can he?

Those born mighty often look down on the magical abilities of weaker races—a tragic mistake. The requirements to reach the Archon level ensure that without shortcuts, only those with high aptitude and perseverance can reach that step.

Especially first generation Archons like this one. Let's ignore the fact that Archons all possess Arcane Bloodlines. Their dra control enables them to use a unique ability—the first shackle: the Dra Shackle. Before that ability, regardless of how strong their body is, every non-Archon becomes powerless.

When all the dra across 100 meters, his included, turns against him, how can Kilian win?" Jezebel rhetorically asked, making Lena gawk in a stupor. Indeed, when faced with such an ability, the odds seemed stacked against them.

"Fortunately, this one is but a low-level Archon. For someone at his level, using the Dra Shackle will come at a hefty cost. Unless absolutely necessary, he won't. The hesitation can open opportunities. Opportunities Kilian will never miss.

But even if he does use it, my Lothario is not entirely helpless," Jezebel pursued, and her lips curled into a mild smile. With the strength of a Fehl Noble or above hidden within his soul, anomalies such as Klaus aside, there weren't many Archons Kilian couldn't deal with.

Of course, tapping in such powers came at a hefty price. Just like his foe, Kilian would rather not use it.

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But even without his Dra Shackle, the Archon didn't think much of Kilian's strength. Sinking in his shadow, he vanished in the ground.

"My Arcane Bloodline was forged on my mastery of Shadow Magic, even without the moonlight, I can use artificial light to cast shadows, enabling me to come and go as I please. My body can also break into shadows at my convenience.

As a non-Archon, how can you challenge me?"

The Archon's voice echoed from all corners of space—or more accurately, from all shadows. Dozens of shadow tendrils rose from the ground to lash at Kilian's armored form. Dancing across dozens of meters, Kilian slithered his way past the tendrils. With the Eye of Revelation and his own fehl constitution, Kilian's senses indeed stood leagues above other non-Archons. For him, the tendrils proved no challenge. But as she stared at his moves, Lena wondered why he covered such a vast expanse of land.

"Third Circle Spell: Dark Hand!"

"Third Circle Spell: Dark Hand!"

One voice echoed from two opposed corners, dark-purple circles dazzled the night, and two massive, clawed hands of the same purple hue sprang forth to sandwich Kilian!

Not bothering to evade them, Kilian folded his arms, and from his shoulder pads, energy cannons sprouted to aim at the Dark Hands!

*BOOM*

Dazzling, sky-blue beams erupted from Kilian's cannons to blast the Dark Hands into light particles. But as they dispersed, four, dark-purple circles appeared above Kilian!

"Fourth Circle Spell: Hand of Dark Glory!" A massive 10 meters wide clawed hand emerged alongside a matching arm to tumble on Kilian's form!

Despite its size, its speed outpaced all Kilian had faced up until now, and beneath his helmet, a frown took form. A move none expected followed. Raising his hands, Kilian summoned the strongest energy shield at his disposal, and withstood the impact of the claw!

"Imbecile," The Archon sneered, assured of his victory.

*BANG*

In an explosion of occultic forces, the hand tore through Kilian's shield and slammed into him!

*CRACK*

The obsidian energy armor collapsed, blasted into thousands of debris.

Ghastly wounds tore Kilian's arms, face, chest, and legs. His blood gushed forth, ceaselessly trickling down the ground.

"Master!" Alarmed, Lena screamed and attempted to rush toward Kilian's side. But before she could take a step forward, Jezebel gripped her wrist—preventing her from making her move.

Kilian's knees gave out, and he collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

Emerging from the shadows, the Archon sauntered toward Kilian, stopping only five centimeters away from him.

"And here I thought you clever. When it really matters though, you turn into a moron. Pathe—" Before the Archon could finish his words, a dark-purple sword tore through his heart, making his blood gush from front and back!

"W-what? H-how?" Twisting his trembling head as far as he could, the Archon turned to face the source of this stab, and was startled to see a dark-purple construct of pure darkness with 99% similarities to himself!

The grievously wounded Kilian stood up and gently patted the Archon's forehead.

"Morons will be morons. You really think I danced and circled left and right because I wanted to put on a show for your ugly ass? Harebrained fool. You spent so much time cuddling with shadows that your eyes can't see beyond your nose," Kilian scoffed, and gripping the Archon's skull, forced him to stare at the ground.

His eyes widened in disbelief!

"I-impossible…" The blood Kilian shed from the Hand of Dark Glory now formed a massive blood glyph on the ground. Assured of his victory, and blinded by his own shadows, the Archon failed to spot it.

"From the beginning of our confrontation, my every step drew the glyph across the ground, readying it for my favorite hex: Wrathful Hunter.

Whoever's blood you shed will turn into a Wrathful Hunter to pursue you throughout eternity. The more grievous the wounds you inflicted, the more power the hunter possesses—with 120% of your strength if the victim died at your hand. Beautiful, right?

Of course, I don't need to go that far." As Kilian's words hammered at the Archon's failing eardrums, the Wrathful Hunter twisted its blade in the prey's heart, and gouged it out!

Although Kilian undoubtedly wished to absorb the Archon's full experience, he dared not gamble with his life.

Give him one opportunity, and the Archon could unleash his Dra Shackle—the consequences spoke for themselves.

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