novelzi Chapter 471 As A Sign Of Respect...
Chapter 471 As A Sign Of Respect...
"Horhir, I suppose?" the warqueen held her cleaver horizontally, her left hand running along its sharp edge, the veins on her arms subtly growing larger, bulging out as her gaze upon the knight narrowed.
The right hand fully pulled out his longsword, Horhir's dull eyes shined with pale flame, stomping one foot down, both hands firmly holding onto the handle, tip of the blade pointed straight ahead.
Without gracing the living with the slightest bit of an answer, the undead went directly for the kill, exploding with holy death, thrusting and moving forth in the blink of an eye, hardly perceptible, he switched his strike from an estoc to a diagonal slash, aiming to cleave through Maulerd's left shoulder first.
Iron roared.
'She reacted quickly...' Horhir had expected it, but it was still surprising to see a living blocking an attack from him when he was using the aspect of war to its fastest extent.
Pushing one palm against his blade, using half-swording to leverage against the warlord, forcing her to step away, setting the sword ablaze with Loimosfire by grinding it against his vambrace.
The flames twisting and twirling like snakes stuck in a pit, clinging at the walls in an attempt to scale them and regain freedom, fiercer than those wielded by lower-ranked knights and soldiers.
Whilst Ourlst wields pestilence and famine, Horhir wields war and conquest, however, the downside of those great powers was that every other abilities Horhir could use would be cancelled when trying to utilise either, but the living did not know this, neither did she know something else...
Stepping forward, he repeatedly swung his blade, Derdlim using her cleaver like a shield, demonstrating strength enough to effortlessly deflect each blow and no fear of the flames trying to stick to her weapon, the dreadful fire failing to spread upon the life force covering the blade.
Swinging downward, splitting the ground and shaking the surroundings with tremendous force, stepping on the cleaver, Horhir targeted her exposed neck, none of the feasters wore any armour after all.
'This strength!' and not just that, to have the guts to grab his blade mid-swing, as it was blazed, with just one's own barehand, one had to be either mad, or insanely confident.
The queen of all feasters was both, letting go of her weapon as she twisted the undead's blade, and by the same occasion, his wrist and arm, the veins over her arm and hand grew to concerning proportions, muscles expanding, constricting bones so tightly that a ghastly groaning came from them.
Striking directly at the knight's chest, bending the iron inward, rotten flesh forcefully parting, ribcages breaking down the middle, letting go of the sword, only mild cuts and burns left on her skin, Horhir was sent back, his feet never leaving ground however.
Regaining his balance, stopping the backward momentum by digging one heel into the soil, swinging his flaming sword with one hand, casting curtain of Loimosfire forward, Derdlim Maulerd grinned happily, the wounds on her hand healing at a visible rate, pulling the cleaver out of the earth, she breathed in, an incandescent glow growing within her chest.
Sensing the heat growing, the right hand assumed a simple posture, sword raised high, allowing for to fall instantly as a torrent of incendiary flames pierced through his curtain, and without hesitation, focusing on his stance and the battle art he was channelling thanks to it, cut the draconic breath into two, his opponent emerging from one side, swinging her cleaver in a way allowing for her to fan part of the fire toward Horhir.
As he let go, the one arrow turned into fourteen, each of them seemingly following a nonsensical path, only that each soon homed right on their target, exploding on impact.
Horhir's bow disappeared back to where it came from, having to land as his wings began falling apart, indeed, although he substituted the usual power of the aspects with holy death to allow himself more usages out of them, he had just combined multiple variations of conquest into one there, three to be exact.
Pulling that up when one wasn't a specialist was draining even for undeads, as it pulled on their death force, forcefully cancelling any active abilities, thankfully, as something physically created, the wings had not instantly disappeared but it had been a risky move nonetheless...
...And Horhir could still sense his opponent's life force.
"What a beast you are, Derdlim Maulerd! You would greatly gain from forsaking life, do you not think being capable of preparing feasts with ingredients born and infused with death would be better? An undead body would be capable of taking an infinite amount of upgrades and evolutions as well!" quickly bringing death force equally across his body, Horhir unsheathed his sword again.
As the dust and dirt risen from the explosions settled down, a bloodied living, missing an arm emerged, looking terribly joyful at the situation.
"You would accept cowards who surrender? I would never! If you want me dead, then come kill me!" licking blood off her face, she casually turned exposed ribs from th limbless side, demonstrating rapid regeneration of all that was lost, back to exactly what it was moments prior.
"Come! I can even replenish my blood!"
"Not your life force though..." as he said this, the warqueen began to change again, growing into what could only be described as a massive tumour, a lump of flesh that readily bursted like a rotten orange, revealing a chimaera-like creature, a whole troll with a collection of sharp claws, tails, fur and feathers intermingled with one another, atop of which stood the upper body of the living, still carrying her cleaver.
'She did regain her life force...' honestly impressed, Horhir was facing what his general would refer to as an exalted living.
"As a sign of respect... I will snuff out your life with my maximum power, and some of our glorious champion"
Saying this, he stretched his right arm forward, blade pointing at the ground.
To those that were trusted by Sir Loimos, a gift was given, a special ability, upon which one was free to call upon as they saw fit, and to do so, one only needed to speak its name-
"Ierpalam..."
"...Behold, as a future regional lord and perhaps even greater- You might just be granted a bit of our general's unending kindness, his sympathy... His compassion, that perfectly mirrors that of death!"