Level Up Legacy

The battle between the warlord and the demonic creature raged on, their attention momentarily diverted by the reverberating cry of furious rage. The forest crackled with black lightning as the man responsible seized its power with his bare hand.

Seraphine watched in awe, her gaze fixed on the eternal black flames that engulfed him. “Is there no limit to his capabilities?” she wondered aloud, perplexed by the tower’s inability to contain his unleashed fury. “If he remains unrestrained, what heights of power could he attain?”

Vesper, too, was taken aback. With his colossal arms retracted, he questioned, “Is that truly Bartholomew? Did he always harbor such a monstrous force within him, or is this yet another bestowed blessing?”

“When men lose the ability to discern between gods and monsters,” Seraphine mused, her eyes locked on the unfolding battle, “they forfeit their capacity for independent thought. Human, you chose the wrong day to imprison me. The true threat was never a demon like myself.”

The ground quaked beneath their feet as the giant warrior, now transformed into a monstrous entity, charged towards the pool of lightning. In the center of it all stood Arthur, his face concealed by symmetrical tattoos that extended towards his rage-filled eyes. A hoarse, unfamiliar voice emerged from his mouth as he uttered, “I offered you a chance, Bartholomew. No more will be given.”

“SILENCE!” bellowed the giant warrior, using his hands to propel himself towards Arthur, akin to a rabid beast. “YOUR CORPSE SHALL BE A SACRIFICE TO THE GODS.”

“They are,” Arthur retorted, pausing briefly and gathering the lightning, molding it into a long, spear-like form. “Not deserving.”

The colorless lightning crackled and fizzed within his grasp as he retracted his arm and arched his back. The looming shadow of the giant warrior eclipsed the sun, while divine energy saturated the surrounding forest. His fists morphed into radiant spheres of light as he hurtled them towards Arthur.

“Be obliterated,” commanded Arthur, his voice resonating with authority. In one swift motion, he unleashed the lightning spear just as the giant’s fists were about to strike him. The spear of lightning exploded forth with a resounding boom, tearing through the air and shaking the very foundation of the forest as it raced towards the colossal adversary.

Divine energy surrounding them dissipated, dissolving into nothingness in the face of this wrathful lightning. The giant spear hurtled towards Bartholomew, piercing him in the chest before erupting into a blinding cascade of lightning that consumed him entirely. His anguished howls blended with defiant cries as the storm of destruction ravaged his being.

The entire army watched in terror and disbelief as the fallen giant struggled against the relentless assault of the lightning. It was a battle waged not only against the external forces but also against the very essence of his heroic being. Gradually, his immense figure began to shrink, collapsing to the ground, his once reverent voice reduced to a mere whisper.

Boom!

Dust billowed around the fallen giant, enveloping the battlefield in an eerie silence. The army, gripped by a mixture of fear and awe, swallowed hard. Their commander, even after transforming into something inhuman, had been defeated. In stark contrast, the culprit stood tall and mighty, not a drop of sweat marring his resolute face.

The black lightning, having accomplished its purpose, started to fade, receding back into Arthur’s body. He walked toward the fallen worshiper and gazed down upon him. The tense crowd anticipated a gruesome spectacle, but to their surprise, Arthur did not proceed with an execution. Instead, he crouched down and sat beside Bartholomew on the ground.

“I am finished, Seraphine. You should make haste as well. Our guest will arrive shortly,” Arthur said, settling himself on the ground before retrieving a white scroll from his bag. “I will return shortly.”

With those words, the man vanished. Since he was no longer engaged in combat and was even seated on the ground, the tower recognized his non-combat status and allowed him to return to his chamber. A sense of desolation permeated the battlefield, as if the very purpose of the fight had been drained away.

“Commander Bartholomew is gone,” a soldier muttered, taking a step back. “There are only two of them, and they defeated half of our forces without breaking a sweat. This is futile… This is…”

Before the soldier could finish his sentence, descending into despair, a colossal fist descended from the sky, crushing him mercilessly. His screams were abruptly silenced, replaced by the sickening sound of bones being pulverized.

“There is no turning back now!” Vesper roared, his ethereal fist rising from the ground, the crushed corpse beneath it a chilling testament to his power. The surrounding soldiers couldn’t contain their disgust, emptying their stomachs as they bore witness to the gruesome scene.

“This is the cruelest irony,” Seraphine’s voice rang out, her eyes filled with a mix of amusement and disdain as she surveyed the soldiers before her. “Your enemy spared the defeated man, while your leader seeks to kill you to force you into his battles. It is not my nature, but those who choose to flee… shall not be harmed.”

Her words, though spoken softly, carried a weight that reverberated across the battlefield. Like a spell, they ignited a spark of hope in the hearts of the soldiers. Cheers erupted from their weary throats as they turned and began their hasty retreat. Vesper, witnessing his army crumble before his eyes, wore a mask of disbelief. His previous display of power had backfired, unraveling the very fabric of his control.

“You wretches! Those who run shall face death!” Vesper’s voice thundered in futile rage, but his threats fell on deaf ears. The soldiers had made their choice, recognizing that survival under their leader’s tyranny was worse than facing the wrath of the demon. “I will slaughter all of you! Every last one… AHH!”

As Vesper’s words were cut short, a figure materialized behind him. A long arm, covered in white fur, wielded a gleaming sword plunged into his back. Vesper’s eyes blazed with fury as he turned to face his assailant, venomous words spewing forth.

“What is the meaning of this, Sarohan?” Vesper seethed, his rage emanating like a tempest. “You are not only a coward but also a backstabber? Is this the extent of your loyalty, you damn primate?”

“We were never your men, Vesper,” Sarohan retorted, his voice steady and resolute as he withdrew the sword, crimson liquid gushing from the wound. Vesper collapsed to the ground, his strength waning. “You never regarded us as your own, either. You treated us as disposable pawns, sacrificing our lives without a second thought.”

“And how does stabbing me… rectify that? This demon will annihilate us all!” Vesper bellowed, blood spilling from his mouth. Though a formidable half-giant, the swift strike of the sword had found its mark, targeting vital organs. “You align yourself with the demon that ravaged your homeland!”

“In my eyes, there is only one demon here, and it is you,” Sarohan declared, resheathing his sword. “You have shown us that demons are not always the ones we fight on the outside but those who reside among us. It may very well be that you… were the destroyer of our homeland.”

“Don’t think this ends here, you damned ape!” Vesper’s fist collided with the ground, summoning an ethereal armor that enveloped him. Sarohan leaped back, observing in awe as the wounded half-giant rose from the earth, defying his injuries. “Your feeble strength… cannot vanquish me!”

“As expected of the Marshlands Warlord,” Sarohan mused, leaning forward, gripping his sword with determination. “You are not an adversary to be underestimated.”

“Even if it costs me my life, I will drag you down with me!” Vesper’s voice echoed, his ethereal fist lashing out in an attempt to seize Sarohan. But the tall creature gracefully leaped into the air, soaring several meters before landing beside the unconscious Bartholomew.

“This battle is mine to face, big guy,” Seraphine declared, the scarlet mist swirling around her. Vesper gritted his teeth, his rage fueling his charge towards her.

Just then, Arthur materialized once more, appearing alongside the fleeing Sarohan

. In a swift motion, the creature turned, striking at Arthur, but the dark-armored warrior intercepted the blade with two fingers. His aura of fury overwhelmed Sarohan, who promptly prostrated himself on the ground.

“Forgive me! I mistook it for an ambush!” Sarohan pleaded, his head lowered. “In truth, I owe you my life, sir! Your intervention spared me and my clan from Vesper’s clutches.”

ƥαṇdα- ηθνε|·ƈθm

“He is no lord of mine. He tried to kill me,” Sarohan affirmed, his elongated hand pressed against his chest. “I beseech you to become our leader, sir. Guide us through this tower to the very end.”

“I will not lead anyone, anywhere,” Arthur replied, turning his attention to the pale-skinned creature. “Furthermore, I have made powerful enemies who seek to claim my life.”

“Then we shall fight alongside you, proving our worth!” Sarohan’s words, filled with determination, hung in the air.