Chapter 243
Chapter 243
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: Flames of Asura
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"...!!"
Olga's expression hardened instantly.
The heat pouring from the young man's body was anything but ordinary.
It was so intense that even the twigs rolling at his feet burst into spontaneous flames.
And yet, he looked like a mere kid who hadn't even hit thirty.
'This kind of firepower?!'
Olga's body moved on pure instinct.
The reason a thick-headed brute like him had climbed to vice-captain of the Cybele Pirates.
It was his overwhelming might at the lower Master tier and his animalistic battle sense that could steer any fight.
That razor-sharp instinct now drove him straight at Set.
It screamed at him: if that flame fully formed, disaster would follow. A blaze that might even threaten his own life.
"Too late."
Behind Set, shrouded in flames, a single form slowly took shape.
A nightmarish monster with three faces and six arms.
The Osiris Kingdom in the East had forged its own unique culture, distinct from other lands.
In Osiris, they called the creature looming behind Set by one name.
Asura.
Set flung his arms wide, and the Asura mirrored him, spreading all six of its limbs.
At the same instant, its three faces locked onto the charging Olga with predatory glares.
Rrrrip!
The clashing arms boomed like thunder.
Ooooooh!
The Asura's three faces roared in unison, thrusting all six arms toward Olga.
"Tch... damn thing!"
Boom!
Aura flared around Olga's left fist, exploding the Asura's first right hand.
Crack!
He whipped his right leg around next, stripping power from the second left hand.
But in that split second, the remaining four hands sealed off every escape.
Fwoooosh!
The Asura's encircling flames trapped the heat, driving the temperature even higher.
High enough to ignite the aura cloaking Olga's body.
Sizzle!
As his aura clashed and canceled against the Asura's grip, Olga's arms and legs began charring in an instant.
He was a high-caliber warrior who'd reached the lower Master tier, living the brutal life of a pirate.
A rugged, tough-as-nails seafarer through and through.
And yet...
"Gaaahhh!"
Before the primal agony of flames devouring his flesh—fueled by the aura's sacrifice—he couldn't stifle the scream.
"Vanish."
Blood vessels burst in Set's eyes, weeping crimson tears as he watched Olga resist from within the blaze. He clenched the clashed hands tight.
Whoooosh!
The Asura's flames spun like a chariot wheel, bathing the surroundings in daylight brilliance.
How much time passed?
The Asura behind Set faded to mist, and the whirling inferno slowly died away.
Where the flames had raged, only a single lump of charred remains lay—the husk of a man who'd been a lower Master warrior moments ago.
Thud.
Set's legs gave out, his knees hitting the dirt.
"This should... cover my keep."
Ever since tagging along with Jerome to Olivia, Set had been frustrated, putting on no impressive shows.
But toppling a lower Master warrior? That paid his dues in full.
His eyelids drooped heavy. Asura was a summon for those who'd fully mastered the third stage of Extreme Yang.
He stood only at its threshold—far too green to wield it properly. The cost had been steep.
His own insides were scorched too.
'Not even a finger to twitch.'
He wouldn't have used it normally. Plenty of other ways to drop that bald bastard earlier.
With enemies still lurking, manifesting Asura wasn't smart.
Yeah.
'If not for you.'
Jerome, who'd come here with him, was a monster among monsters.
No mid-tier Master pirate stood a chance.
That's why he'd pushed himself. Why? No clue. Just... wanted to prove himself. Show his hard-earned training wasn't for nothing.
Was it admiration? Envy? He couldn't pin it down.
'...Someday, I'll figure it out.'
For now, he just wanted sleep.
The air around us lit up like high noon. The scorching heat rolling in even made my head spin.
A monster with three faces and six arms hovered behind Set.
'Asura?!'
It was a sight that beggared belief.
Asura.
Set's signature ultimate move from my past life as the Sun Incarnate.
Smaller scale, weaker blaze—but unmistakably Asura.
Never dreamed he'd honed Extreme Yang enough to summon it already.
Thought he was just biding his time quietly.
"Where you looking?!"
Whip! Whip! Whip!
Twin cutlasses rained down from wildly different angles, relentless.
Fast enough to mimic dozens—no, hundreds—of blades swarming at once.
But they couldn't lay a scratch on me as I danced through with Moonlight Steps.
"Still haven't figured it out? Give up. You can't touch a hair on my head."
"Fuck! You little shit!"
My taunt bulging veins across Artis's forehead—he lashed out in a frenzy.
Artis had reined himself in with a single breath before, but holding composure now? Tall order.
His crew in ruins, vice-captain reduced to ash, and even he struggling—naturally.
'Or so one might think.'
It was all an act.
Beneath that mask of rage and impatience, a sliver of true emotion gleamed in his eyes: flight.
Even boxed in like this, Artis hadn't abandoned escape.
Not some iron will. Masters weren't gods.
Humans through and through—if cornered this bad, crumbling mentally was normal.
Yet Artis held on because hope lingered.
Hope that with Jeremiah alone, he could salvage this mess.
Whiz!
I slipped the cutlass like an eagle snatching prey.
Artis rolled his eyes watching me dodge, his getaway itch plain as day.
His spirit was already cracked. I could make him kneel whenever.
I didn't have the sick hobby of grinding foes into utter despair.
Normal me? Artis would've been subdued, situation wrapped up.
'Not this time.'
This wasn't just any foe. Trash who'd exploited my old comrade from the past.
No quarter given.
'He built the crew spotting Jeremiah's true worth.'
Her old personality? She'd never play nice with pirates willingly.
Yet the Cybele Pirates boomed. Clear implication.
He'd wrung her dry by force, over and over, trampling her will and pain.
That's why I dragged this out.
Waiting for Miron to arrive with Jeremiah.
Then smash Artis to pieces right in front of her.
Show her how pathetic "pirates" truly were—the ones who'd plunged her world into darkness.
How utterly insignificant.
"Haha, put some real effort in."
While mocking Artis's swings—just grazing my sleeves—his cutlass snapped at a right angle for my throat.
Whiiiish!
"!"
Lightning-quick.
Seeing my surprise, Artis barked a mad laugh.
"Gotcha! You arrogant punk—I'll hack off that smug head and mount it in the captain's quarters!"
Artis had tested blades against him firsthand and knew.
Jerome's rumors weren't hype.
But he'd bided his time coolly. Winners made the strong—not the other way around.
And sure enough.
The cocky kid slipped for a heartbeat, and Artis seized it without mercy.
Soon, that overproud brat's head would be his prize.
Claaaang!
The metallic screech echoed deep into the forest.
"...?"
A heavy recoil climbed from the cutlass hilt up his arm.
Unfamiliar pain throbbing in his limbs—Artis blanked, failing to process.
Why a dull thunk striking human flesh?
Thwack!
"Guhek!"
Before it clicked, a gut-wrenching thud buckled his waist.
"Right—not captain for nothing. That strike was decent."
Tap, tap.
Jerome approached, casually kneading his neck like it'd just gotten a stiff massage.
His neck, now black as ink, bore not a single mark.
"Playtime's over."
My eyes weren't on the staggering Artis, but fixed on the forest edge.
Toward Miron, mission accomplished, and the woman with light green hair.
As Jerome and Set tore through the Cybele Pirates' hideout, the remaining pirates on patrol devolved into chaos.
"What the—?!"
"Why's the main base suddenly up in flames... guk!"
Boom!
A cannon-like blast sent one pirate flying in a spray of blood.
"T-Tan!"
Spotting "Tan" airborne, the pirates whipped around hunting the source.
And there it was.
A hulking mass—man or bear?—with a monstrous hammer slung over its shoulder, glaring them down.
"Clear the way. I got no time to waste on small fry like you."
The blood-soaked giant menaced, but the Cybele Pirates were infamous in these isles.
Flinch at this? How'd they pirate all these years?
Shing! Shing! Scliiing!
Unfazed, they drew steel, blocking Miron's path.
"Who the hell's this guy?!"
Amid the stares, someone clocked the kids huddled behind him.
"Hold up—that behind him, ain't that Jemi?!"
"Fuck! Beat 'em!"
Chaos or no, no idiot missed the picture.
Stealing their key to revival? Salt the bitch alive.
The pirates charged with murder in their eyes, but Miron just readjusted his hammer and settled into stance.
Krunch!
The lead rush ended with a head pulped, no scream.
Crunch!
A sideways sweep flung three more ragdolling away.
Not quite Hatan's axe, but this man-slaying maul wrecked them savagely.
One swing.
Every swing dropped at least one pirate.
How many had fallen?
Drip. Drip.
Blood pattering from the hammer, Miron's crimson glare shattered their fight.
"Uwaaaah!"
"M-Monster!"
They bolted like their fierce charge was a lie.
Elite or not, pirates prized life over blind loyalty.
"This way. My lord's over there."
Miron spoke calmly, gore-drenched. Jemi shot back.
"You okay? Artis is terrifyingly strong. Your master's probably dead already. Aren't you scared?"
Why do they never waver?
"Scared...?"
Miron chuckled. She didn't get it yet. The true terror of powerlessness before one you trusted utterly.
'Nah, that's not even it.'
Jerome von Carviot tripping over this? Laughable.
"No chance. My lord's conquered far worse without breaking a sweat."
Roooar!
From nearby, eerie flames blazed, heat washing over.
"You'll see for yourself. Why they call my lord the young hero."