Chapter 196 Devastating Blow
The Martial Alliance elites, who had initially underestimated Eric, were now taut with apprehension.
A fully recovered Eric was a game-changer, a fact not lost on the seasoned members of the Alliance.
Death, with its penalty of a level lost, was a setback, but this… this was far more dire. Their relentless monster grinding had already taken a toll on their equipment's durability. Now, facing Eric's relentless assault, their precious gear was being chipped away, inch by inch, threatening complete destruction. The prospect was far more terrifying than any temporary loss of level.
Lost levels could be regained through dedicated grinding, but their equipment… these were the fruits of countless hours, painstakingly acquired. Replacing a full set would be a monumental task, far more arduous than regaining a level, if it was even possible at all.
"Kai Blackthorn," ZephyrStrider began, his words strained, betraying his reluctance, "Let's not do anything we'll regret. This benefits no one. You're free to leave, and we can go our separate ways." Eric's sheer power had forced him to offer an olive branch, a bitter pill to swallow.
His ambitions within the Martial Alliance, his dreams of ascension, would be dashed if he exhausted his resources here.
"Regret?" Eric chuckled, "Is that supposed to be your final word?"
ZephyrStrider's logic eluded him. Did he think he could assault someone, realize his mistake, and simply apologize his way out?
The dismissive amusement in Eric's voice was a fresh wave of humiliation washing over ZephyrStrider. He had yielded, hadn't he? Yet, Eric continued to press his advantage. He could only watch in silent fury as his subordinates were cut down one by one, a rage building within him.
Never in his wildest nightmares had he envisioned such a scenario.
He had been utterly confident in their ability to crush Eric. But that magical explosion, that mid-level healing potion… it had shattered his certainty. Now, even if they managed to kill Eric, the cost would be staggering. The Martial Alliance elites would be decimated.
"Kai Blackthorn, you've left me no choice. Let's see who makes it out of here alive!" With a roar, he rallied his remaining forces, "Everyone, attack! He's a walking treasure chest now, a super red name! His death means we claim it all, more than enough to offset any losses. Don't hesitate! His potion's cooldown must be astronomical. We can wear him down!"
Fueled by desperation and ZephyrStrider's words, the Martial Alliance members launched into a frenzy of attacks. Skills were unleashed, tactics deployed, all aimed at restraining Eric, at chipping away at his seemingly invincible facade.
ZephyrStrider himself, with a grimace, nocked a fiery red arrow, aiming it squarely at Eric.
This was his trump card, a treasure reserved for the most formidable foes, intended for a boss battle. Now, he was forced to waste it on a single player, albeit a frustratingly resilient one.
The arrow tore through the air, a sonic boom accompanying its flight as it homed in on Eric's heart.
Intricate runes etched onto the arrow blazed to life, drawing in fire elemental energy, growing larger, more menacing, like some volatile, consumable power.
Eric, amidst the maelstrom of magical attacks, disregarded them all, focusing solely on the fiery red projectile hurtling towards him. Parry!
A deafening explosion rocked the battlefield as the arrow found its mark, detonating on impact. Eric was sent flying, a ragdoll tossed by an unseen force. But he landed, miraculously unharmed, the brunt of the impact absorbed by Parry.
ZephyrStrider watched, eyes wide with disbelief, as Eric dusted himself off and charged into the ranks of his magic users, cutting them down like wheat before a scythe.
Eric's speed was already formidable, but now, fueled by a cold fury, it seemed impossible to track. The magic users, hampered by level suppression and Eric's magic resistance, were lambs to the slaughter.
As the melee fighters felt the last vestiges of the freeze effect dissipate, hope flickered in the eyes of the beleaguered magic users. Salvation was at hand!
But their relief was short-lived. Eric, with a flick of his wrist, hurled a mid-level Frostbite Grenade. It landed with a soft thud, right where it had fallen before. The effect was instantaneous. The melee fighters, caught in the blast radius, were once again encased in ice, their health bars plummeting, the Assassins and Swordsmen, fragile as they were, teetering on the brink of death. Eric was upon them in a heartbeat, his Abyssal Blade a searing blur, reaping a bloody harvest, leaving a trail of shattered equipment in his wake.
The low levels of everyone present meant many, especially the more advanced, restriction-breaking skills, were yet to be learned. It was this deficiency that allowed Eric to transform the Frostbite Grenade into an instrument of utter domination, rendering them helpless.
The cycle repeated. Frozen. Slaughtered. Hope dwindling with each fallen comrade. The magic users, witnessing the carnage, their last vestiges of defiance crumbling, ignored ZephyrStrider's increasingly frantic commands and bolted.
No one had anticipated such a weapon, such raw, destructive power. Had they known, they would have fled long ago, chosen flight over this suicidal stand.
"Running away, are we?" Eric muttered, a headache building. If he gave chase individually, more would escape. The Frostbite Grenade, and the fact that he possessed more than one, meant no one in their right mind would linger. It was an effective tactic, but it made his objective – their complete annihilation – more time-consuming.
Resigned, Eric began lobbing basic Frostbite Grenades. A one-second cooldown, a three-second freeze – it was enough. The white sandy expanse transformed into a chilling tableau of frozen figures, the Martial Alliance members nothing more than macabre ice sculptures, easy targets for his fiery Abyssal Blade.
The sight of their comrades cut down, their equipment scattered like fallen leaves, was more than some could bear. The desire to log off, to escape this nightmare, was overwhelming, but the system, cold and unforgiving, refused to allow it while in combat. All they could do was watch as Eric drew closer, their deaths a foregone conclusion.
Soon, the once teeming battlefield was eerily silent. Over a hundred Martial Alliance elites lay dead, their equipment nothing more than shattered remnants. Only ZephyrStrider remained, a statue of shock, his will to fight extinguished.
His entire fortune, his team, his ambitions – gone. All because of his arrogance. He knew, with chilling certainty, that he could never hope to rise within the ranks of the Martial Alliance now. He was finished.
Two swift strikes from Eric, and ZephyrStrider joined his comrades.
"Finally," Eric sighed, scanning the battlefield one last time. Satisfied, he used the demon's mask to clear his name, retrieved a return scroll, and activated it, leaving the desolate Ruins of the White Sands behind.
ZephyrStrider, even if he harbored thoughts of revenge, would have to wait a long, long time for his forces to recover.
News of the massacre spread through the small guild alliance like wildfire. ZephyrStrider, his silence speaking volumes, withdrew from the alliance, leaving the remaining members bewildered and apprehensive.
He had looked into the abyss, and it terrified him. He couldn't, wouldn't risk another encounter. Divine Realms: Legends was his livelihood, and he intended to keep it that way.
His public apology on the official forums, stating his intention to avoid any and all future interactions with Eric, only served to solidify the image of Kai Blackthorn as a force to be reckoned with.
The Silvercrest Dominion buzzed with the tale of the fallen elites, a stark warning echoing through the ranks: Do not underestimate Kai Blackthorn.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
