157. Tyrant's Blade (3)
From time immemorial, humans had worshiped and revered the gods of the divine realm, yet at the same time, they yearned to draw near to the gods' omnipotence.
Divine Omnipotence. The fragments of that omnipotence, passed down in the form of divine powers, were precisely what the Another Ones possessed. Strangers from other worlds. And the divine powers they wielded. People went wild for the gods' existence itself, harboring admiration and awe for these Another Ones who descended into the world bearing divine powers, just like the apostles recorded in myths.
And they began to ponder how they might claim those shards of omnipotence for themselves.
"Fuck an Another One and pass down the divine power to your bloodline. Don't know if it was your mom or dad who was the Another One, but damn, you popped out a kid with divine power thanks to some wild banging!"
Druin Ri shouted as he eyed Sermes Rocksfield, whose arms bore the tattoos symbolizing divine power.
In response, a sharp glint flashed in Sermes's eyes.
"You're an evil that should never have existed in this world. To pledge loyalty to a Demon King despite bearing divine power in your body... Have you no shred of shame?"
"Hahaha. Shove it up your ass. Don't know why they gave me this power, but it's mine now. What's the problem with me using my own power however I want?"
The tip of Druin's dangling sword blurred. At the same moment, a long gash appeared across Sermes's chest.
Splurt!
Blood sprayed out. But by some miracle, it wasn't fatal. The bleeding was severe, but unlike what it looked like to the naked eye, the cut wasn't deep. If he hadn't instinctively pulled back, it surely would have been lethal.
"Kuh!"
Sermes clamped a hand over the wound and retreated, eyes locked warily on Druin.
The bastard hadn't unleashed any sword aura. So how had the slash reached him from this distance? It was impossible. They were more than twenty meters apart. No elongated sword aura, no projected strike—yet the attack had connected. And Druin's slash hadn't even been visible.
That's his power...
The tattoos etched into Druin's eyes glowed vividly. In other words, he was actively manifesting his divine power right now.
"Brother!"
Berban drew his sword and squared off against Druin. Gubelas, who had rushed back upon hearing the news, likewise gripped his sword hilt and went on guard.
Three against one. Yet Druin didn't lose his composure.
"What, are you three brothers or something? Looks like Mom and Dad were pounding away nonstop to crank out you kids... Guess today'll be the day the brothers bleed together."
How touching, their brotherly bond. Druin chuckled darkly as he tightened his grip on his sword hilt.
"Unleash all your power against him. He's a monster among monsters, known for cutting down countless heroes from the Holy Empire."
Tyrant's Blade, Druin Ri. He was one of Agares's most trusted subordinates. Famous for slaughtering droves of Holy Empire soldiers in the war—and even the heroes they dispatched.
"Sorry, brother. I had no idea he was such a vicious bastard...!"
Berban swallowed hard, regretting his decision to lead Druin inside himself. He'd invited disaster right to their doorstep. If he'd known the man was such a monster, he'd never have brought him here.
The elf-saver was an evil so notorious it defied counting. Why he'd saved the elves was a mystery, but what mattered was that the monster before them had to be taken down.
"No, you did well. Pull out all the stops and take him here."
The Rocksfield knights surrounded Druin, swords drawn sharp as they guarded the elf mother and daughter while watching him warily. No escape routes. The Tyrant's Blade would fall here.
What Sermes wanted was to slay this enemy who had sullied an Another One's reputation and restore the honor he'd trampled.
"No mercy needed, then."
"It's been ages since I cut loose..."
Gubelas and Berban, like their eldest brother Sermes, activated the tattoos symbolizing divine power. Invisible to the eye, Gubelas's appeared on his back, Berban's on his abdomen. Each bared their hostility as they unleashed their powers against Druin.
"You brothers might've been born on different days, but I'll make sure you die on the same one."
There was virtually no way to guard against invisible blades. You couldn't tell where they came from. Not the trajectory, speed, or range—nothing could be gauged.
The Rocksfield brothers struggled against Druin's relentless sword speed. Yet they fought on, landing counterattacks, cornering him momentarily, even delivering strikes that made him break a sweat.
Rocksfield... Rings a bell. Pretty skilled, huh? Shame to kill 'em. Well, I'll kill 'em anyway.
Druin parried Berban's and Gubelas's strikes simultaneously, then clashed blades with Sermes's thrust, baring his teeth.
Rocksfield. He'd commit that name to memory. A house harboring inheritors of Another One powers. It piqued his interest.
"Ngh!"
Berban gritted his teeth and unleashed an explosive sword form. Rocksfield Sword Form: Black Storm. A whirlwind of rapidly spinning sword aura posed a massive threat to Druin. Getting caught meant being shredded.
Gauging the attack's power, Druin struck first—before the black storm reached him. An invisible blade severed Berban's arms. The moment they were cut, his sword path twisted, barely grazing Druin.
Mana output's impressive. Power amplification ability? Would've been even deadlier as a mage.
Having gauged Berban's power, Druin assumed the other brothers shared it. Didn't matter which parent was the Another One; if inherited genetically, they'd all have mana amplification.
But—
"Hup!"
The smirk vanished from Druin's face. Sermes's speed exploded like a triggered switch. His blade grazed Druin's throat by a hair's breadth. A tad deeper, and his head would've been off.
And then it'd be neatly packaged and shipped to the Holy Empire.
Clock Up... Sword form acceleration power. One of the most annoying ones. But why's this stiff-ass prick using sword form acceleration?!
Sword form acceleration drastically cut the time needed for sword forms, stances, auras, and everything else. He'd encountered it before. That's how Druin identified Sermes's power.
"Guh!"
Druin had to backpedal from Gubelas's follow-up swing. He blocked cleanly, but failed to fully deflect the force, straining his arms.
Definitely a physical enhancement or strength-boosting power. Druin shook out his stinging hands, enduring the pain.
Stiff guy's sword acceleration. Fading one's body enhancement. Chatty one's mana amp... What the hell? Aren't they brothers?
Brothers from the same parents should inherit the same power. But each had a different one. Impossible.
Druin knew inheritors inside out from countless fights. The Rocksfield trio baffled him.
"What the hell are you? Mongrel spawns of Another Ones—what'd you do to end up like this...?"
Rocksfield house. Had to be hiding something.
Parents seem the same.
Definitely full brothers. Did that mean one parent was a freak with multiple powers? No, impossible. Each Another One had one power. No exceptions.
Thus, the trio's unique powers remained an unsolvable riddle.
I'll figure it out while toying with 'em.
Druin lowered his sword. The patterns in his eyes darkened. His drooping blade began to blur.
Tyrant's Sword. Another One turned Demon King's kin. He swung the invisible blade wide left and right, smashing into the Rocksfield brothers.
Troid Rocksfield's three sons were rated as strong as the Kingdom's Seven Swords. And now they were unleashing their long-hidden Another One powers.
The Rocksfield house had no doubt of victory seeing the heirs draw their powers from the start. But the scene before them shook their unwavering faith and loyalty.
"Whoa, seriously... Tough sons of bitches."
Huff. Huff. Druin muttered through ragged breaths.
Gubelas and Berban down. One left. Sermes stood bloodied, sword raised, stance firm.
Druin had stabbed him dozens of times, slashed hundreds. Yet Sermes burned with will, refusing to yield. Druin genuinely looked fed up.
"Think enduring wins it?"
Sermes answered Druin's question.
"I won't show my back to a Demon King's lackey. Nor kneel. The only time I drop this hilt is when I'm dead."
"Stubborn bastards..."
Sermes evoked the Holy Empire knights for Druin. Righteous hardheads. Screaming victory over the Demon King Army, charging in—they'd stunned even him.
One way to stop unyielding mad dogs: Cut their throats. Corpses don't get up.
That's how he'd turned countless Holy Empire knights into demon fodder.
"Sick of it. You're like a stinky chicken coop—ruining my mood."
Druin briefly bared killing intent, then sheathed both swords, abandoning the kill. He met eyes with Norien, who stared in terror.
Knowing he was Demon King's kin now? She feigned bravery, but fear showed.
"Won't ask help from Demon King's kin again. So don't tangle with slave hunters—live well."
"D-Druin..."
The gray-haired elf hesitated, reaching out as if to grab him. Druin snorted.
"What, want me to pop your cherry? Sorry, I'm a pure-love guy. Not into rape. Save it for someone you like. A trash like me as your first would traumatize you for life. And kids would be a hassle."
He'd never planned to take Norien's virginity as a reward condition.
Virgins belong to lovers. Trash like me can't sully that purity.
Having grown fond over the journey, Druin gave Norien—clutching her mother's hand—one last warning: Don't get caught by slave hunters again.