Chapter 494: The Fourth Hero Takes Control

The Fourth Hero Takes Control

After getting his shoulder bitten off, Victor already lost consciousness.

His body remained standing for only a brief moment through sheer momentum before his consciousness finally slipped away.

The blood loss, the accumulated injuries, and the relentless assault from Fean had pushed his body beyond its current limit. His breathing became faint, his muscles lost their tension, and the golden light that had once burned fiercely within his eyes disappeared.

To anyone watching, it looked as though the battle had finally reached its inevitable conclusion.

But inside Victor’s soul, something entirely different was happening.

The other incarnations had been watching the battle from the beginning.

Usually, they wouldn’t care if the current incarnation died in battle.

Death was not unfamiliar to them.

They had lived through countless lives, countless bodies, countless endings. The death of one incarnation’s current vessel was unfortunate, but it wasn’t enough to shake them. As long as the existence they represented remained, another incarnation could eventually continue the journey.

But this situation was different.

This enemy was connected to the Universal Emperor.

Even if what stood before them was merely one of its seeds, that distinction meant nothing.

They could never lose to the Universal Emperor.

Not here.

Not like this.

And certainly not after everything they had already endured.

The moment Victor’s consciousness faded, one of the incarnations stepped forward.

Eddy.

His presence emerged within Victor’s soul with none of the hesitation that might have accompanied another incarnation taking control.

There was no time to hesitate.

Victor’s body was already damaged beyond what an ordinary fighter could tolerate, and the enemy standing before him was still moving.

Among all the incarnations, Eddy possessed one particular advantage.

Some of the others had techniques that were simply too overwhelming for Victor’s current body. Their methods demanded enormous physical strength, extraordinary energy reserves, or a body capable of enduring the backlash generated by their techniques.

Victor’s present body couldn’t handle those methods.

Eddy was different.

His swordsmanship had been created with precisely that limitation in mind.

His style had been developed so that even the weak could use a sword to become powerful.

It wasn’t a style that demanded an indestructible body.

It wasn’t dependent on overwhelming physical strength.

It was a method of turning what little one possessed into something lethal.

And now, that method would be used through Victor’s battered body.

Eddy opened Victor’s golden eyes.

The gaze that returned was completely different.

The same golden eyes remained.

The same handsome face remained.

The same blood-covered body remained.

Yet the presence behind those eyes had changed.

There was a calmness there.

A cold, measured awareness.

Eddy didn’t immediately attack.

Instead, he stood silently and assessed the condition of the body he had inherited.

His first concern was obvious.

The body was in terrible condition.

Very terrible.

Eddy could feel every injury.

He could feel the damaged muscles, the strained joints, the broken bones, the blood loss, and the lingering shock traveling through Victor’s nervous system.

His right shoulder was still functioning, but the rotation was not to his liking.

The joint could move.

That was the important part.

But the range was restricted, and forcing it too far would only worsen the damage. The muscles around the shoulder had been abused repeatedly, and the bite had left the area in a state that would make certain sword movements dangerous.

Eddy’s attention shifted downward.

The left leg was worse.

Severe muscle trauma had accumulated there.

The leg could still support Victor’s weight, but the damage would gradually slow his movements.

That was unacceptable.

A swordsman depended on his feet as much as his hands.

A single delayed step could decide life or death.

Eddy continued his assessment.

A few ribs were broken.

Several fragments had shifted enough to interfere with Victor’s breathing.

The lungs were being squeezed by some of those broken ribs.

Every breath therefore carried pain with it.

The blood flowing from Victor’s head had also created another problem.

It ran down his forehead and toward his right eye.

His vision on that side was becoming blurry.

The wound wasn’t immediately fatal, but during a battle against an opponent like Fean, even a slight obstruction could become deadly.

His jaw was slightly dislocated.

His eardrums were booming from the countless impacts Victor had endured.

Even without seeing the injuries externally, Eddy could feel how violently Victor’s body had been battered.

He remained silent for a moment.

Then his eyes narrowed.

Overall assessment.

Victor’s body could only handle a few more minutes of battle.

A few minutes.

That was all.

Perhaps even less if Fean managed another direct hit.

Eddy didn’t need more information.

He already understood the situation.

"This body..."

His expression remained calm, but there was a faint trace of irritation in his eyes.

"It really has been pushed to its limit."

There was no fear in his voice.

Only calculation.

Victor had fought with everything he possessed.

Now Eddy had inherited the consequences.

He flexed Victor’s fingers around the sword hilt.

The movement was small.

But it was enough.

The sword remained steady.

That was all he needed.

Across from him, Fean remained silent.

The possessed man’s body stood amid the ruins of the cave, his severed right arm lying on the ground nearby.

Blood continued to drip from his shoulder.

Yet Fean showed no sign of pain.

His expression remained twisted by that unnatural presence.

Then something unexpected happened.

Fean lowered his gaze toward the arm lying on the ground.

He bent down.

His fingers wrapped around the severed limb.

Evelyne’s eyes widened.

"What is she doing...?"

She couldn’t take her eyes away.

Fean lifted the severed arm.

There was something deeply unnatural about the scene.

The limb should have been useless.

It had been completely separated from the body.

Yet Fean simply placed it back against the wound where his arm had been cut away.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

The flesh moved.

Muscles intertwined.

Blood vessels connected.

Skin sealed.

The severed arm reattached itself to Fean’s body as though it had never been separated.

Evelyne stared in disbelief.