I Hate Systems

Chapter 557: Pseudo-Saint

Dolare was trapped in an impasse, unable to deactivate the twister that he had unleashed. If he did so, the grass created by the opponent would target him next. But if he continued with the same, he would be expending too much mana.

As he was only able to use wind magic, he couldn’t do anything else. He tried a couple of spells but failed to do anything as his opponent countered them all.

Just as he planned to unleash a terrifying attack to level the place, a regal voice resounded, “That’s enough, Dolare. You cannot defeat it.”

“Are you accepting your loss?” Yablukwon smirked, snapping its finger as a pungent stench began to vaporise from the grass, causing Dolare to flinch in response, hurriedly covering his nose as he increased the distance between the two, creating a draft to ensure the pungent stench didn’t reach him, fearing that it was a poison.

A Warlock was definitely capable of that.

‘Defeat to a Rock Ogre means death.’ Dolare thought, ‘No, I’m one of our strongest. If I back down now, then it means my Lord would have to face them next. Even if I were to die, I cannot allow my Lord to risk his life, even if he’s stronger.’

“If you lost, then you must die!” Yablukwon shouted, taking out another doll when suddenly, intense winds billowed from Dolare, causing dozens of wind blades to rush at it, severing all the grass strands, freeing the twister that rapidly slammed into it, riddling it with countless injuries.

“Hmph!” Dolare bellowed, riling up his mana as the twister increased in intensity before a dozen wind blades began to rotate in it, shredding Yablukwon apart.

Bang!

Suddenly, like a kite whose string was severed, Dolare lost all strength and began to fall. But just before he crashed into the ground, a gust of wind cushioned his fall.

“Koff!” He clutched his chest, feeling something squirming there, coughing out blood as he hurriedly lifted his cloak, staring at a massive worm squirming underneath his skin, gradually approaching his heart from his lungs.

Aware that this was Yablukwon’s sneak attack during their entire exchange, Dolare didn’t hesitate, creating a tiny wind blade that he used to pry open his chest and yanked out the worm from inside, dicing it up into countless pieces first.

He then took out a potion and poured it over his wounds, watching the injuries heal at a noticeable pace, gradually stopping all the bleeding.

‘That was close!’ He panted in response upon dissipating the twister, confirming that Yablukwon was indeed dead.

Immediately after, a loud voice resounded from a cave nearby, “You can pass now. You have one minute to clear out from this area. Otherwise, we’ll attack you.”

“Thank you.” He cupped his fists in response before flying towards his carriage in a hurry, almost crashing into it, barely managing to slip in through the window.

The caravan began to move immediately after, quickly leaving the place.

Seated within the cave, the owner of the loud voice was a Rock Ogre covered with tattoos thrice the number of Yablukwon, staring at the passing caravan through an insect hidden in the grass.

It gradually observed a well-decorated carriage, frowning when a tiny spark slammed into it, charring the insect, cutting off the communication.

The Rock Ogre frowned, ‘There’s a troublesome bastard in that caravan.’

It then looked at the other Rock Ogres that were raring to go, motioning for them to stop, “We’ll lose too many if we engage in a battle. There’s a Pseudo-Saint among them.”

The person they were talking about was at the moment staring down Dolare, stating with a calm tone, “I believe I told you to stand down?”

“My Lord…” Dolare sweated a little as his face paled, “If I had retreated, the Rock Ogres would have warred against us.”

“Are you doubting my orders?” The regal voice resounded, now containing a mild trace of anger.

“This servant doesn’t dare!” Dolare kneeled on the ground, prostrating himself.

“This will be the last, you understand? The next time you disobey an order, your head would roll.” The regal voice announced before stating, “They wouldn’t have dared attack us.”

As he was pardoned, Dolare slowly lifted his head, for a moment in a trance upon staring at his lord.

A majestic golden hair that practically glowed like fire, with a pair of eyes that were even brighter, containing heat that seemed like it could burn through everything in his sight.

A jet-black skin that seemed capable of swallowing the very night itself as a silver-blue gem was embedded on his forehead, pulsating with a dense magic fluctuation.

The man seemed to be around twenty years in age, having attained a terrifying strength so young. From top to bottom, he was adorned in expensive trinkets that each pulsed with a magic fluctuation.

Horan Fawnker!

He was a Pseudo-Saint of two professions, a Mage and a Warrior, wielding the lightning element of both paths, a terrifying combo whose potential was unleashed to the peak.

In this world, all paths had a similar breakdown of power levels, with those that had just embarked upon a path and learned to use mana addressed as a Novice.

Above that was an Expert, affluent in their respective path, following which one became a Master, having mastered their path.

Masters were severely valued by every powerful force. It could be said that the number of Masters in one’s force indicated the extent of their dominance.

Above even that were existences called Grandmasters, those that had surpassed the peak and had ventured out to greater heights.

Doran and Yablukwon were both Grandmasters, possessing enough power to wipe out thousands of people on their own.

And above even this was a special group, known as Pseudo-Saints, those that almost attained enlightenment into the truth of their respective paths. There were two more stages above that, but they were almost unheard of, as those active in the world were only Pseudo-Saints.

And hence, as a Pseudo-Saint, Horan Fawnker was a terrifying existence. But strangely, this terrifying existence was now travelling through a dangerous territory.