Chapter 229: The Strongest Shield and the Strongest Spear (5)

The eighth rule of surviving in Liqueur: never save trump moves.

The first strike of White Cloud, imbued with Tusk and the Demon Arrow, was Keter’s ultimate move. It was the only technique capable of completely piercing the Divine Ironblood Physique’s ninety-two-layered shield. Keter made sure that Hyperion was conscious of White Cloud and the Demon Arrow. Because of that, Hyperion remained wary of it the whole time. And by discovering Ironblood’s weak “tail,” Keter planted a second seed of caution in him.

Keter deliberately dragged the fight out, as that was the only way to get the moment he wanted. He endured and endured until Hyperion’s vigilance peaked and, conversely, his mental reserves hit their limit.

If not for Decameron and the Oath of Death, I couldn’t have used this strategy.

Decameron wasn’t fighting, but his mere presence pressured Hyperion. Without the artifact, the Oath of Death, which split damage between its wearers, he couldn’t have lasted until now—until the moment Hyperion would finally be willing to accept sacrifice.

That moment was when Hyperion deliberately disassembled the Divine Ironblood Physique. It was a temptation—by lowering the shield, he was baiting Keter to attack more aggressively. It was a completely different style from when Hyperion was going for a perfect victory.

That makes sense. Bearing the title of the Fist Emperor’s heir, taking a serious wound from an opponent far weaker than you would crack his pride.

A warrior’s pride was more important than life itself, but when life was truly at stake, a warrior would briefly tuck that pride away.

So, Keter moved exactly like Hyperion wanted. He dashed into Hyperion’s chest, aiming for his heart, which Hyperion did as well. At a glance, it looked like a reckless mutual suicide, but it wasn’t. Just before impact, Hyperion twisted unexpectedly. Keter followed but failed to hit his heart. Instead, Keter pierced his lung, and Hyperion’s fist cleanly drove through his heart.

“Di-did I finish him?”

You fool. Of course not.

The ninth rule of surviving in Liqueur: the more trump moves, the better.

The Marksman of the Demon Arrow: Amaranth descended into the moral realm.

* * *

Just before Keter and Hyperion drove their fists in each other’s hearts, the Marksman of Demon Arrow stepped forward in Keter’s stead. Hyperion didn’t notice, partly because Keter’s stealth for that moment had been good enough to fool even a Transcendental, and partly because Hyperion’s mental fortitude had been gnawed away. As a result, Hyperion pierced what he took to be Keter’s heart.

—He fell for it.

Amaranth, with its heart skewered, laughed terrifyingly. Hyperion felt that something was wrong, but it was too late.

Amaranth grabbed Hyperion’s arm; the curse of corruption crawled along his limb.

“You still pull these petty tricks?!” Hyperion roared.

Ein burst from his body. Blue sparks flew as he reactivated the Divine Ironblood Physique that he had momentarily dismantled. But the formation of the protective layers was painfully slow. Hyperion was exhausted, and Amaranth’s corruptive power was eating away at the shield as it tried to rebuild.

Keter, who had used the Marksman of Demon Arrow like a decoy to take position behind Hyperion, took a deep breath.

There will be no more chances.

Keter had already reached his limit. The Oath of Death was nearly spent, and his aura and mana were almost gone—this had to be his final strike. In nearly every respect, Hyperion was superior: Ein and a martial art fit to crown him an emperor in the area. Even Keter, with memories of a past life, couldn’t hope to overcome that without a miracle.

But I don’t have to be stronger than Hyperion all the time.

Just for one moment—if he could be strong for just one moment, the rest could be sacrificed to create it.

My advantage is willpower.

No matter how mighty the spear or the shield, in the end, a human was wielding them.

There is no point confronting the spear head-on or smashing the shield for its own sake.

All Keter had to do was destroy the person who wielded them. But unfortunately, Hyperion was seven times stronger than Keter had estimated.

I can’t kill him, even if I fire White Cloud imbued with Tusk.

Amaranth held Hyperion in place, and it was using its corruption to suppress the Divine Ironblood Physique. Still, Keter was certain that even if he buried a White Cloud-Tusk in him now, it would at best inflict a grievous wound, not a lethal blow. Of course, inflicting such a wound would still be a tremendous achievement and earn him the world’s praise.

But praise won’t satisfy me.

He would beat Hyperion so that everyone would admit Keter Sefira had toppled the Fist Emperor Hyperion.

I need a new technique.

Tusk was devastating; its double-hit mechanic could pierce the hardest things. But at point-blank range, Tusk’s power dropped off, since a human arm couldn’t match the elastic force of a bow.

Keter’s life flashed before him like a reel, and the answer didn’t come from his bloodstained Transcendental past but from the short new history he had forged in Sefira over the last six months: the blacksmith Volkanus, the dunce Taragon, and the crossbow.

Hum...

An aura took form at Keter’s right wrist, and it became a crossbow. He nocked the Tusk-imbued White Cloud. What was pulling the bowstring was not his finger but his shoulder. He drew the string to its limit.

Crreeak...

“Big Bang,” Keter whispered.

This was the name of the newly made technique: Sefira Style Limitless Archery, First Form: Big Bang.

Thud!!!!

Keter’s punch detonated into the very middle of Hyperion’s back. It wasn’t an ordinary punch; the essence of archery—elasticity—was applied to his fist.

The punch became an arrow that struck the Divine Ironblood Physique, which shattered thirty of Hyperion’s protective layers.

Kaboom!!!

Secondly, the White Cloud imbued with Tusk that was mounted on his forearm shattered the Divine Ironblood Physique. Then, Tusk drove into the path Keter had opened with his fist two times. Even before the effects of the first strike had faded, the Tusk that followed in drove through and utterly shattered the Divine Ironblood Physique. It was not a double-attack, but a triple-attack.

Crack!!!

Hyperion felt his Divine Ironblood Physique snap apart, but that wasn’t it; the force of Keter’s attack was not over. The thought of death flickered in his mind. However, he could respect Keter.

Impressive, Keter. I thought you would focus only on Divine Ironblood Physique’s tail, so I was unconsciously guarding it. I never expected you to try to break it head-on.

Sharp pain spread through Hyperion. His skin was harder than steel, tendons tougher than ogres’, bones as solid as orichalcum, yet he couldn’t stop Keter’s Big Bang.

A crooked smile crossed Hyperion’s face.

You deserve to beat me, Keter.

Splatter!

White Cloud finally tore through Hyperion, creating a hole the size of a grown man’s fist. It hadn’t struck his heart directly but passed just below it; any fool could see it was a mortal wound.

But if I accept death now... Master will scold me even from the grave.

Squelch!

—What?!

Amaranth gasped in shock as Hyperion severed his own arm to slip free. Then, he turned around and struck Keter. Keter revered Hyperion’s refusal to give up and braced to block or dodge, but...

Crack!

Even Keter could neither block nor evade this unforeseen move: an unexpected spinning back kick against Keter’s neck.

“

Cough...

It has to be at least... a draw... so the Fist Emperor’s honor remains.”

Blood gushed from Hyperion’s mouth, and he slouched. Hyperion’s spinning kick had snapped Keter’s neck. His head was only still attached to his neck because the Oath of Death had redistributed the damage. Without it, his head would be on the floor by now.

“I still... have a way to go.”

Crunch.

As the Oath of Death shattered, Keter’s neck finally broke, and he fell together with Hyperion.

* * *

A cold wind blew. Across the desolate, scarred land, things began to slowly emerge: monstrous lifeforms that looked like a fusion of dog and bird, fish with legs, spiders with human faces... They were monsters that had crossed over from the Demon Capital. Each one was as powerful as a three-star knight at the least, and they had been silently waiting for the fight between Hyperion and Keter to end.

These dark-dwelling creatures normally had no sense of comradeship and rarely traveled in packs. However, after seeing Keter and Hyperion—two unprecedentedly powerful beings—they began to cooperate and crept closer as a group. The monsters used an eerie language to communicate with each other.

“Kie...?”

“

Tick tack!”

Then, their expressions shifted. Hyperion and Keter were no longer fearsome foes to them; they had become coveted prey.

Whoosh!

The human-faced spider leaped first, bouncing toward Keter. The moment its jaw on its stomach gaped wide, ready to swallow Keter’s head...

“Hostile life form. Neutralizing.”

The human-faced spider that was as big and solid as a boulder was sliced down like paper.

Decameron raised the Aura Sword formed at the edge of his hand.

“Krieeeek!”

The spider that had been split into two did not die. The severed portions regenerated rapidly, and two human-faced spiders rose in its place—a truly Demon Capital level of regeneration.

Scuttle!

Unlike when they had been intimidated by Hyperion and Keter, the human-faced spiders judged Decameron worth testing and lunged at him. The other monsters followed suit, surging forward in a mass.

Decameron wasn’t a martial warrior; he had no reason to cling to a sword.

With both hands outstretched, he called out casually, “Flame Cannon.”

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!

Blue fireballs blasted from his palms, incinerating the human-faced spiders whole. The other Demon Capital beasts turned their attention to a different target. They had noticed Decameron was guarding Keter, which meant Hyperion was theirs for the taking.

“Krrk!”

A dog-bird—an odd beast seeming part dog, part bird—rose and swooped to snatch Hyperion, when...

—That’s mine.

Thunk!

A Demon Arrow struck the dog-bird’s torso. Amaranth, instantly engulfed in pitch-black flame, stood in front of Hyperion.

—Hey, tin can. Guard that one well—he’s mine, too.

“Mr. Keter is not an object for you to take.”

—Heh heh. If corpses aren’t objects, what are they? Well, once I deal with these things, I’ll deal with you too. Until then...

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

Amaranth threw dozens of Demon Arrows, pinning the encroaching monsters in place.

—Temporary alliance.