Chapter 158 Chapter 156 Sacrifice
In the dark night, on the wide streets of the noble district, George galloped on horseback, the wind causing the paper with sacred proverbs on his armor to flutter loudly.
He was surrounded by a faint white light, rolling across the ground like the moon in the dark.
The downside was that enemies could see him from eight hundred miles away. They desperately tried to block him, staining the horse’s hooves with blood, as well as his sword.
The upside was that the slaves rioting along the road recognized his identity and willingly cleared a path.
George discerned that the fearsome war demon was not lying. But he still held out a glimmer of hope that there might be a small glitch in the ritual, delaying it by a minute or two, giving him a chance to win.
The warhorse of the heavenly realm turned a corner. A wooden barrier blocked the road, where a dozen corpses lay, behind which stood a group of soldiers wielding spears and crossbows. Not far behind them was a mansion engulfed in flames.
After a fierce battle, George was only a street away from the ritual site.
But the heavenly warhorse was intelligent, sensing the danger of the barriers and spears, and slowed down involuntarily.
George shouted:
“Old Bai! Hurry! Jump over!”
“Hiss!!”
From the terrified neighing of the horse, George inferred that the celestial steed feared the soldiers would raise their spears to pierce its soft belly. Normally, he would try to reason with it, but now time was of the essence.
“Quick!”
In a rush, George kicked the horse’s belly with his heel, and the heavenly warhorse galloped fiercely towards the wooden barrier. The soldiers, surprised, stared at him while an officer shouted loudly:
“Raise your spears! Raise your spears!”
The soldiers instinctively raised their spears, awkwardly positioned. The heavenly warhorse made a powerful leap, soaring over the barrier, its belly barely brushing against the spear tips, and landing heavily on all four hooves with the sound of iron shoes striking the ground.
The warhorse let out a painful whinny as the heavy burden nearly caused it to stumble, its hooves striking sparks off the hard stone road.
George’s head pounded from the jolting, his left arm instinctively gripping the reins, and he felt a surge of pain in his already straining arm. Despite having taken a sip of blood, there was no way his wounds could heal in such a short time.
Miraculously, the warhorse did not fall, staggering but quickly regaining its balance as it whinnied and raced toward the mansion filled with flames.
“Well done, old friend!”
George excitedly embraced the neck of the heavenly warhorse, “Good luck, fortune favors the bold!”
No sooner had he spoken than a strange phenomenon occurred at the mansion, only half a street away. A bright orange light surged, illuminating the mansion’s white walls, while the black iron railings appeared to glow red from the flames. George felt a shiver run down his spine.
A supernatural sense of fear, chilling as ice. In just a few seconds, the celestial warhorse leapt in front of the mansion, and George felt as if he had plunged into an icy sea.
The heavenly warhorse fearfully raised its front hooves and whinnied. George understood its meaning and said:
“No, I will not flee.”
Inside the mansion.
A heavy iron door stood some distance from the mansion, flanked by three rows of tall, muscular men wielding axe-spears. These soldiers, transformed by the blood and flesh of a great master, retained only martial skills in their minds, felt no pain, and were clad in heavy armor.
Behind them stood a four-story building, from which blinding orange light beamed through the stained glass windows. The entire stone structure appeared as if it were made of glowing red ceramics. An intuition told George that the ritual site was on the rooftop, and he jumped off the heavenly warhorse.
With a loud shout: “I am here!”
His right hand exerted force, hurling his spear, which struck the building, and the flag of the sanctuary flew from the spear.
He leaped over the railing, and as soon as he landed, the three rows of muscular men immediately surged towards George. He transformed into a streak of light, darting towards the last of the muscular warriors, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared at the rear of their formation.
The last of the muscular warriors was momentarily stunned by George’s sudden appearance and roared as he swung his axe-spear at George.
George reacted faster, slicing off the arm of the warrior as thick as a child’s waist with a single stroke. Crouching down, he prepared to leap to the rooftop, but to his surprise, the one-armed warrior, bleeding profusely, showed no hesitation, as if he felt no pain, and immediately lunged at George’s head.
Though wearing a bucket helmet, his already injured head felt a jolt of severe pain, staggering him back a half-step. The one-armed warrior discarded his weapon and lunged at George, now perilously close, barely a step away.
At this distance, wielding the great sword was unwieldy. Typically, one would take a step back first.
But George was racing against the clock, roaring as he gripped the sword hilt with both hands, using the great sword like a short spear, driving it forcefully into the throat of the one-armed muscular warrior. There was a sound of bones shattering as the cervical spine broke, and the muscular warrior’s body instantly went limp.
By this time, the surrounding muscular warriors had already closed in on George. He quickly bent his knees and threw his head back to jump, but he keenly noticed a layer of metal mesh above!
Without a moment’s hesitation, George exerted force with his legs, and the ground beneath him sank as he leaped upward. Several approaching muscular warriors aimed to grab his heels, their thick fingers barely brushing the soles of his shoes.
The metal mesh was rushing towards him, and in mid-air, George exerted force, slicing through the metal with his sword and barely managing to leap through the hole, the torn metal dragging along behind him. Unable to reach the rooftop, he slammed into the third-floor wall, quickly jabbing his great sword into the wall, his legs hanging in mid-air to keep from falling.
As he tried to withdraw the great sword, a sharp pain shot through his left arm, robbing him of strength, causing him to nearly lose consciousness.
George gasped a low cry: “Sacrifice!”
As soon as the words left his lips, he immediately felt his body ablaze, the sensation mirroring that of battling the demon king, Kima. Only this time, he was in a far worse state.
His body filled with power, George forcefully pulled the great sword free. Grasping the jagged opening in the marble wall with one hand, he climbed upward, his armored body gracefully vaulting onto the rooftop.
Before he could steady himself, two muscular warriors lunged at him, arms outstretched. George plunged his sword into the rooftop; the two muscular warriors crashed into him, forcing his head back as he clung to the sword hilt, causing his bucket helmet to fall backward, tumbling down from the fourth-floor roof.
Two pairs of massive arms coiled tightly around his body like constrictors. The segments of armor on George began to rub against each other, creating a clattering sound. The muscular warriors’ big feet dug into the ground, leaving behind a white imprint as they tried to push George down.
Furious, George let out a low growl, his whole body igniting with white light. Filled with the power that “sacrifice” had granted him, he raised his foot and crushed the foot bones of the muscular warrior, who howled in pain beside his face, yet did not loosen his grip.
The raspy voice of the fearsome war demon echoed: “Hoh! You came later than I expected.”
With the muscular warriors’ feet incapacitated, they could no longer push George.
He stabilized himself, took a step forward, the two ox-like muscular warriors clinging to him. His face flushed, George reached out, grasped the hands clutching him, and with a forceful twist, the sound of splintering bones echoed as he broke the wrist of the muscular warrior.
The hand dangled weakly from the wrist. One muscular warrior, unwilling to let go despite his resolve, George, in a fit of rage, snapped his forearm as easily as breaking a dry twig, bending it at a ninety-degree angle.
Just as he cast aside the last muscular warrior to the ground, a wave of black smoke enveloped him, with millions of vengeful spirits screaming and wailing in his ears, uttering various blasphemies. George sensed in terror that the divine power granted to him was slipping away, and the paper on his armor was burning away.
The raspy voice of the fearsome war demon rang out: “Without your false god, what do you have left?”
Another powerful supernatural object. Under normal circumstances, he could have avoided it, but just now, he had been firmly trapped.
The black smoke dissipated in less than two seconds, and George could no longer feel the presence of his god, and his innate supernatural abilities had also been restrained.
The halo on his silver armor extinguished, and the armor that had once possessed magic due to divine blessing reverted to a mundane state.
George unsheathed his sword, ready to charge, when a wave of black flames swept over him. The armor on his body crumbled, the gauntlets broke apart and fell from his wrists, and before they hit the ground, they shattered into dozens of steel fragments. Even the fine golden sword was not spared.
In the blink of an eye, George found himself empty-handed, the only piece of iron left on him was a breastplate adorned with enameled suns.
Now, unarmed, George finally saw the fearsome war demon. He stood atop a bizarre magical array made of two skull thrones, the skulls atop the thrones wore expressions of extreme fear. One of the skull thrones was missing a skull.
The fearsome war demon raised a gigantic blade with one hand, the blood-red tip pointing at George’s nose, as the magic patterns beneath his feet emitted a dazzling red light. Despairing was the fact that his wounds no longer bled, and he noted George’s gaze wandering to his chest wound.
The fearsome war demon chuckled hoarsely: “I have healed.”
This was the truth.
“Come, accept death. Otherwise, in seventeen seconds, when I catch up, I will sever your head, and I have left a place on the throne for you.”
George was burning out.
Sacrifice was a supernatural ability used for an explosive boost; the time for that explosion was long gone. The aftereffects of the explosion were tearing his body apart. His lungs burned, and every inch of muscle in his left arm felt like it was being sawed with a knife. He was utterly exhausted, with only the hilt of a sword remaining in his hand, the blade barely longer than a finger and a half.
It was time to sacrifice…
He felt oddly calm as he strode towards the towering fearsome war demon.
George’s ears rang, rendering everything unclear; he could not even catch what the fearsome war demon was saying.
“George! George! Look over here!”
Was that the voice of Kima?
Doubting he was hallucinating, George instinctively turned his head, still hoping for something.
In the canopy of a tree in front of the building, Kima, who should not have been there, waved at him. Below, the muscular warriors, unable to climb trees, encircled the base, staring at her.
It couldn’t be Kima, but no one was as lovely and beautiful, with horns and a graceful tail.
The succubus girl in the tree pressed the tip of her bronze sword against her chest, tilting her head back to drink from a horned cup filled with blood, two streams of bright red trickling from the corners of her mouth. The succubus girl smiled at him, kissed the golden ring on her index finger, and leaped down from the treetop. Like a floating white butterfly, the silver ring George had given her still adorned her smooth arm.
Predictably, the succubus girl plummeted to the ground, the bronze sword piercing through her soft chest, protruding from her back.
With a crunching sound.
Something inside her chest snapped.
Was it the chain binding his powers, or the connection between him and Kima?
George clenched his fists, turned, and charged at the fearsome war demon.
Endless power surged into the fearsome war demon’s body, his ascension to power neared completion, as infinite strength churned within his chest, the fearsome war demon laughed out loud:
“Ha! Can you defeat me in an instant?!”
He felt his status reaching a point of overturning.
As soon as the words left his mouth, George spun around, his right fist shining with white light, striking at the fearsome war demon. The fearsome war demon swung his sword with all his might, cleaving towards George’s head.
A clash of titans!
“Crack!”
It was the sound of vertebrae fracturing; the fearsome war demon’s head tilted back unnaturally, nearly parallel to the ground.
“This cannot—”
His “thought” was left unfinished when George jumped up, grasped the dark horn atop his head, and with a powerful twist, completely broke his neck. The massive body of the fearsome war demon fell, and George snapped the fingers tightly gripping the sword hilt, seizing the massive blade to sever the demon’s head cleanly.
George held the severed head of the fearsome war demon, looking left and right, and with restrained excitement, he refrained from placing it on the throne, casually tossing it aside. The horned head rolled half a circle on the ground before stopping, with visible fist prints on its forehead.
