Chapter 989: Fist of the Moon (3)

Chapter 989: Chapter 989: Fist of the Moon (3)

Time slowed to a crawl as the sudden interloper practically teleported from a bunch of random foliage to right behind Baron Glorfile, her deadly sickles raised and already coated in aura and internal energy.

"[Kamaitachi decapitation]" The attacker bellowed the command words of her skill and in response a small ferret like creature bloomed above her head, roaring cutely as it covered its owner’s body in flashes of wind and lightning, making the assassin even faster than she already was.

Her timing and accuracy was perfect, Baron Glorfile had already reeled back his fist and started his forward thrust, his attack was already in motion making it all but impossible for him to protect himself.

You’d expect his expression to warp and panic as the stench of death rolled over him, grasping tightly around his heart, promising to drag him to the other side but there was no such reaction.

Baron Glorfile noticed the woman behind as well as her razor sharp sickles but gave her nothing more than a very brief glance out of the corner of his eye before pushing forward with even greater purpose, his mind set on killing Rathborne no matter the cost.

The woman’s brow frowned in response, a sense of panic or perhaps despair flashing in her heart. She moved with deadly intention with great risk to herself all to save Rathborne, her colleague, childhood friend, on an off lover and the father of her son, Raito.

Considering her position as one of Prince Randolph’s hidden blades upon seeing the decimation of their subordinates and the dire circumstances of Rathborne she should have left, ran for the hills so as to ensure their master was informed of their failure but her emotions won out. She couldn’t bear to see Rathborne die in front of her not when she could do something about it. As long as she killed or at least greatly wounded Baron Glorfile there would be a chance for them to flee. She could carry Rathborne, she’d done it before.

But her target didn’t even flinch, wantonly ignoring her efforts hell she even sensed contempt in his gaze, looking down on her as if she was a fool.

Angered by this her arms bulged, revealing dynamite chiselled muscles hidden beneath her clothes, she’d make him pay for his disregard by cleaving that head of his from his shoulders.

Rathborne attacked Cavalish, Cavalish attacked Rathborne, Baron Glorfile attacked Rathborne from the flank and Sierra attacked Baron Glorfile from the rear, a deadly conflict that was sure to end in at least one death...at least if things continued as they were.

"Haaaaaaa I was wondering when you’d make your move." A voice was carried on the wind from an unknown direction and an instant later Sierra felt terror wash over her, her heart freezing, her spine tingling as danger overwhelmed her senses.

Her attack on the Baron stuttered as she redirected her sickles to her left side, desperate to block whatever blow was heading her way.

Don!

A large sabre, rough and heavy, an unpolished weapon but no less deadly was shot through the air like a bolt from a crossbow, striking hard against her hastily raised sickles. Her pride and joys groaned from the weight, her bulging arms straining as she attempted and failed to endure the force behind it.

"Cough!" She violently coughed blood as her body was flung from the air and catapulted back from whence it came, bouncing across the ground like a spinning stone over a lake.

Yellow, Ovaria and the other A-ranks stood ramrod straight, practically frozen while Sierra launched her attack now locked their gazes into the distance where a tall, heavily cloaked individual revealed themselves, their aura manifested into physical form as they recalled their flung sabre.

"Damn rat, I was so close to getting away with a lazy evening." This cloaked individual was General Anya, codename Diamond.

She remained hidden during the assault precisely for Sierra, waiting in the darkness for her to strike and reveal herself. A boring job but a necessary one, they couldn’t allow a single survivor after all.

Anya briefly glanced at the three way contest occurring in the sky, smiling slightly as she saw Baron Glorfile unleash a skill in which he had earned his military nickname, Fist of the Moon. It’d been a while since anyone had last seen that bright purple glow of his.

Unfortunately she had a job to do and thus couldn’t enjoy the sight like Frost and the others, Sierra needed to be taken out, a lapse in attention and she’d flee, for real this time.

The moment she took a step forward dashing towards where Sierra landed after her devious strike the three men officially clashed.

BOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!

The noise was earth shattering, the sound loud enough to burst eardrums and the residual shockwaves enough to send B-ranks flying, limbs crushed and some even half severed.

Rathborne’s mace thundered down upon Cavalish’s left claw the one that was meant to target the body, the physical. The struggle generated waves of energy, popping the air and causing tendrils of multi-coloured energy to stretch from the centre of the conflict but eventually there was a victor. The mace smashed through the enhanced claw, losing less than 30% of its momentum as it honed in on the second claw the one set to attack the soul of its target.

The secondary clash was less loud but far more graphic, white and black switched back and forth, sounds of souls wailing ringed as purifying light purged them.

Cavalish winced in pain, the force behind Cavalish’s attack was greater than he anticipated, his remaining claw was trembling and struggling endure the impact while his first was ripped from his hand taking with it a couple layers of skin and part of a finger. It didn’t take a genius to understand what would happed if that mace struck his body, a limb would be mangled at best and at worst he could lose a major organ.

’Is there really such a gap between early stage and mid stage.’ He bemoaned in frustration hoping that the Baron’s punch landed before his strength faltered.

’Dammit!’ At the same time Rathborne silently cursed, he failed to break through Cavalish’s defence fast enough. Baron Glorfile’s fist was millimetres from his body, and he could already feel the weight behind it, as if it had its own gravitational force.

With his mace thundering down a large fist encased in a shining purple energy struck the right side of his ribs and he immediately felt as though he was struck by a mountain with a peak higher than his eyes could see. The weight was almost illogical.

His armour fractured into splinters, unable to endure for even a fraction of a second. Next his ribs moved out of place, turning to dust as the punch dug deeper, seeking out his heart and whatever lay behind it.

The pain struck him at this point, depriving his mace wielding arm of its strength and pushing him in the opposite direction. He managed to blow apart Cavalish’s second claw but was unable to capitalise on his advantage as he was shot through the air, his body twisting and folding as his insides burst apart. His heart mangled and shredded, a grotesque remnant with no functional quality. His right lung gone, eviscerated while less than half remained of his left. Intestines, stomach, rib bones, spleen pretty much every organ held above the waist suffered some degree of damage.....fatal damage. Even a high quality health potion alongside a skilled healer would be powerless in the face of such injuries.

Rathborne was a dead man walking or in this case a dead man hurtling through the air and slamming hard against the ground, uttering nothing more than guttural groans as blood spilled out of his every orifice.

The Fist of the Moon had struck, and he was powerless to endure him...the difference in their strength was staggering.

Cavalish/Red, Yellow, Green and Blue all stared in awe or rather shock as Rathborne’s body was visibly shattered by Baron Glorfile’s singular fist. Each of them imagining themselves in Rathborne’s position, wondering how they’d handle such a destructive attack and given their expressions it was clear the results were anything but positive.

Ovaria was different, she never saw the Baron as an enemy, his strength being greater than expected was nothing but good news for her so after a brief nod and a smile donning her lips she turned to where General Anya chased after Sierra hoping to lend aid to this unknown individual. She knew not of their identity only that the Baron held them in very high esteem.

Swoosh.

Baron Glorfile like a beacon of godly destruction arrived before the crumbled mess that was Rathborne, his clothes blown apart by his own might revealing an impressive physique despite his advanced age.

"Any last words?" He asked calmly while readying his fist, that purple energy already starting to slightly glow again, heralding death.

"Cough! Just get it over with." Rathborne spoke through the pain and blood in his throat. His soul drained and in despair. He saw Sierra revealing herself and then being shot from the sky a moment earlier. His saving grace, the hope that someone would survive this ambush and inform his master of their failure and that his son would still have at least one parent living in this world was viciously destroyed.

He was full of regret and pain, the sooner it ended the better.

"Fair enough, you were a worthy foe Rathborne.....Farewell." Without any ceremony or grace Baron Glorfile brought his enhanced fist down on Rathborne’s skull, blowing it apart like a watermelon, dousing him in the blood and viscera of a once mighty opponent.

"RATHBORNE IS DEAD! FINISH THE REST!!"