The Third Lord glanced at me with a sneer, his lips torn at the corners.
Even with one arm cleanly severed, there was no waver in his posture.
It was as though he had meticulously prepared for the situation at hand; his eyes gleamed with a deep joy.
“Madness has taken you,” he muttered.
The Third Lord let out a hollow laugh, as though stupefied.
He picked up his severed right arm and aligned the cross-sections.
In an instant, a thick black energy enveloped the wound, and the flesh knitted together like threads, seamlessly reconnecting.
As though nothing had happened, he lightly moved his regenerated right hand.
Siron, who had been attempting to mediate, swallowed hard, alternating his gaze between us.
The Third Lord stared at me, his eyes brimming with uncontrollable excitement, then finally spoke.
“Are you really going to fight now, Sixth Lord?”
“Have you just noticed?”
Tsstsstsstssts—!
The moment he finished speaking, a colossal pressure bore down on the atmosphere.
Though just a wave of mana, it was fearsome enough to crack the ground beneath us, yet all the energy dissipated harmlessly against my shield.
To be honest, weighing the pros and cons, engaging with another Lord like this is purely a loss.
It’s annoying handling the aftermath, whether it’s a quick clash or an all-out fight. After all, this is a battle between Lords, and neither of us could emerge unscathed.
Of course, that’s if it was a typical standoff.
‘It’s too late to turn back now.’
I made my decision, and I have no regrets.
True, the justification is on his side, but I resolved not to care.
After all, this is a world where power equals righteousness — a world that strictly adheres to the logic of strength.
The fact that a necrophilic villain like him is a Lord, or that he massacred villagers without any clear justification, it’s all because he has power.
So shouldn’t his downfall at my hands also be justified?
He narrowed his eyes and glared at me.
An oppressive silence enveloped the space.
He stared at my face for a moment before slowly shaking his head in irritation.
“The first time could be chalked up to ignorance. It’s a flimsy excuse, but it amused me, so I intended to let it slide. I thought I’d humor your brashness as a freshly appointed Lord and handle it lightly. But you’ve now pushed past my limits.”
Each word dripped with derision.
I watched silently, then countered with a faint smirk.
“Have you forgotten what I said just now?”
“What?”
“You talk too much. Soon to die.”
“…”
The moment a crack appeared in his previously playful demeanor.
Goaaaah!
From the Third Lord’s pale fingertips, dozens of threads of black mana arose and undulated like waves.
Before I could react, enormous bones erupted from behind me.
With a sharp, tearing roar, they spread out in all directions like an umbrella, each blade charged with deep, black mana that hummed with sinister power.
Kwaaaaang!
An ear-splitting sound of rupture accompanied an immense explosion.
“Ugh!”
Though his attacks could never reach me, the shockwave was so intense that Siron, his defense system not robust enough, was forced to stagger backward.
The impact was tremendous — had I not prepared my defenses in advance, it would’ve easily torn a frail human body to shreds.
“Tch.”
The Third Lord clicked his tongue and raised his hand.
The air rippled, and hundreds of crimson eyes erupted from the sky turned pitch black.
Reality itself was being torn apart.
The overwhelming power contained in the rifts between these eyes compressed to the point of almost detonating.
Simultaneously, a sinister mist rose behind the Third Lord.
As if possessing wills of their own, they intertwined and began sketching something, gradually taking form.
I glared fixedly at the grotesque entity forming behind him.
Keehehheheehee!
The being exuded a condensed aura of malevolence. It was clad in a massive suit of armor, its crimson gaze burning with fury. It was too monstrous to behold.
The bulky armor emitted a constant, vibrating flow of dark purple energy, as though it devoured souls. Black vapor seeping through the armor gave the illusion of rotting flesh.
Its surface was covered in thousands of faces, screaming with agony as if countless souls were engraved upon them.
Spiky bone structures protruding through the armor squirmed as if alive, with dark crimson essence dripping from their tips like viscous liquid.
The fires burning in its empty eye sockets resembled flames of hell, and the ground beneath it had turned pitch black, the air itself warping and tearing.
Summon: Calamir, the Murderer.
The familiar of the Third Lord, a symbolic representation of his power.
“…”
During my battles with enemies in the past, they’d been dispatched so swiftly I had no time to process their strength. Facing a true Lord, however, his dominance was beyond imagination.
It was no wonder he had reigned as the Third Lord for hundreds of years.
Even though he was fated to be a villainous influence on the world and eventually be hunted down by the protagonists due to his vile nature, his sheer power was undeniable.
“Let me offer you one last chance. Formally apologize, surrender the sword you carry, Sixth Lord, and I will graciously extract your vile tongue and limbs instead.”
Before he could finish, a blade emerged from Calamir’s grip.
It appeared less like a sword and more like a massive black spear dredged up from the underworld, slicing through the air.
Black energies spiraled and flowed along the blade’s edge, and ancient runes carved into the sword flickered a purplish hue.
With a sound that pierced the ears, the blade began to ripple slightly.
It twisted like a living creature and its surface became covered in thousands of tiny sharp teeth. These teeth snatched at the air hungrily as the blade’s edge constantly changed color, bubbling with heated energy.
Krrack! Chh!
Each time Calamir adjusted his grip, horrifying grinding sounds echoed in our ears.
Every time he swung the sword, everything around him sank into the ground as if pulled in, and the surrounding space distorted and collapsed.
“Hmphh…grr…”
Even Siron staggered and fell to his knees as the oppressive energy swirled.
Rudine watched the situation with glittering eyes, while Adina signaled me to hurry.
Siron’s eyes wavered.
Confronted with a sight beyond comprehension, his judgment clouded and a hint of distrust towards me started to surface.
It was then.
“!!!”
Pftt—!
Before his retort could end, the Third Lord was unable to hide his shock.
He realized belatedly that something sharp had just grazed the center of his face.
Ignoring him, I approached the fallen Siron.
I extended my hand to help him up, and as he was supported, he looked at me with a bewildered face.
“…What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you up.”
“No, this is not the time. We should be trying to reason with the Third Lord!”
I cut him off plainly.
“There’s no need. He’s already dead.”
“…What?”
Siron turned around quickly to look at the Third Lord.
“…He is still alive.”
At this, I smirked and approached the Third Lord.
Though Calamir’s frantic eye movements expressed refusal, he made no other attempts to move.
I didn’t hesitate and lightly nudged his forehead.
Then.
Zing.
A single thin line appeared, vertically cutting through the Third Lord from his head to his toes.
Pooosh!
Bubbles of fresh blood began to seep out, hissing and boiling through the incision.
And then.
“!!!”
Tsstsstsstssts—!
A sound akin to the tearing of a long strip of paper echoed.
In that frozen moment of stillness, his body began to split along the line.
The split grew wider and wider, until finally his body was torn in two, collapsing in pieces left and right.
Kuooouuuung—!
The force was akin to the splitting of heaven and earth.
Behind the Third Lord, the ground screamed as it ripped apart. Shreds of clouds in the torn sky unraveled like cotton candy.
The pitch-black sky split open, and sunlight filtered through the cracks in the clouds, extending to the edges of our sight.
I watched it all and muttered quietly.
“He’s dead now.”
“…”
Witnessing this, Siron’s eyes became vacant.
