Chapter 870 - 869: Parting Words

Cough!

Cough!

Cough!

Simon coughed blood onto the broken stone.

Something heavier struck the ground with it. Small pieces of damaged tissue lay among the red, and his next attempt to breathe brought another mouthful.

The collision had undone too much. Flesh that UnholyRegeneration had barely joined had torn open again, while the foreign Aether continued resisting the repairs. His body folded around the pain, knees drawing closer as he turned his back toward the God of War.

One hand pressed against his torso. His shoulders shook.

Behind him, footsteps approached at an unhurried pace.

"A cloud of dust," the god said. "And then you crawled."

He stepped around a piece of the buttress his own attack had broken. Simon’s blood marked its edge.

"What did you hope to accomplish? Did you believe I needed clear air to find something bleeding this much?"

Simon answered with a cough.

Mara watched from where she knelt. A flicker passed through her expression when she saw what Simon spat onto the road, but she lowered her eyes before the god could notice her attention.

Tomas’s hands remained clenched against his thighs. The body walking toward the wounded demon belonged to his disciple, and he was just hoping that he would have his disciple back in one piece.

He was also woried about one thing.

His disciple’s missing right arm.

None of the five spoke.

"I thought you were smart when you chose to kill my chosen before he could call upon my strength," the God of War continued. "Yet you waste what little strength remains trying to escape on your hands and knees."

He stopped a few feet behind Simon.

"Tell me everything you know about the sword and the wrappings. Where they came from. What those flames are. Answer properly, and I may make your end less painful."

Simon curled tighter. His breathing scraped through the brief silence.

"There are worse things than death, demon. You should understand that."

The god’s voice remained calm.

"And you should understand how easily I could make you experience them."

Blood slipped between Simon’s fingers.

"I know."

The reply was so weak that Mara barely heard it.

Simon coughed again without turning.

"You’re... not lying."

"Then stop wasting my time."

The god glanced toward the discarded Chaos Blade. It lay several paces beyond the blood trail, untouched since he had thrown it aside.

"What do you know?"

Simon released a long breath that shuddered near its end. His hand moved away from his torso, leaving the wound concealed between his body and the ground.

"First... I can do this."

He stretched out his right hand, and a second later, the Chaos Blade rose from the road.

It crossed the space between them hilt-first, passing the God of War before settling into Simon’s bloodied grasp. His fingers closed around it.

The god looked unimpressed.

"A bond and a recall. Many worthwhile weapons possess those. I have no interest in watching you demonstrate what a child could explain."

His gaze returned to the black wrappings.

"What else?"

Simon held the sword close. A faint groan escaped him, and his left hand shifted against the rubble.

Mara waited for another cough. Instead, the demon spoke.

"There’s... one more thing."

"Then say it."

Simon turned his head just enough to look back.

"The sword and the wrappings asked me to give you a message."

The God of War’s eyes narrowed.

Simon’s left hand rose. His fingers curled inward, leaving the middle one standing.

"They said... fuck you."

For a moment, nobody moved.

Mara’s head lifted before she could stop it. Dorian stared openly, while one of Pavel’s lenses tilted toward Simon as though its owner needed to confirm what he had heard.

Even Tomas forgot to lower his eyes.

The God of War looked from the raised finger to Simon’s face.

"What did you just-"

Simon vanished.

The sword disappeared with him. There was no leap to follow, no body thrown into the air, and no trail of wind marking an escape.

Only blood remained among the broken stones.

The god’s pupils contracted.

His head snapped toward the lower slopes.

"How?"

Mara rose halfway from her kneeling position. Ilona looked between the empty patch of ground and the direction the god now faced.

"Teleportation?" Pavel muttered. His six lenses began turning. "He has a spatial affinity?"

The God of War ignored him.

Of course it was spatial movement. That was not the question.

He had nearly divided the demon’s torso, cut into his heart, and filled the wound with Aether shaped beneath his own Will. Then he had hurled that ruined body into a stone buttress with enough force to undo its struggling repairs.

The demon should have been spending everything it possessed on remaining alive.

Instead, it had just crossed a considerable distance.

And the presence he sensed there was no longer failing.

’He is healed?’

His expression darkened.

The ragged circulation was gone. Power moved through the demon’s body without the interruptions caused by damaged pathways. His vitality no longer flickered beneath the weight of approaching death.

Even his strength had increased.

The heart remained an Infernal Heart. There had been no advancement to explain the change.

’How did he recover that quickly?’

The god looked at the blood where Simon had lain. Pieces of ruined flesh remained beside it. The wounds had been real. He had caused them himself.

Yet the demon had been ready to move while everyone watched it groan.

His remaining hand slowly closed.

Then his gaze shifted toward the place where his severed right forearm should have been burning.

The place was empty.

He frowned.

Black scorch marks remained, but there was no arm resting upon them. No curling black flame. No pile of ash that explained where the flesh had gone.

His eyes moved across the surrounding rubble.

Nothing.

’Where is it?’

The earlier gust returned to his thoughts. Dust had covered this entire stretch of road- the demon, the sword, and the burning limb.

’Did that wind carry it away? Somewhere beyond my perception?’

His frown deepened.

Impossible.

That little gust had barely inconvenienced the kneeling humans. Even if it had dragged the severed flesh across the ground, it should not have carried it so far that he could no longer sense it.

He looked toward Simon’s abandoned blood trail again.

The demon was still moving, and he was moving toward the rift.

There was no time to search every piece of broken stone for a mere missing arm while allowing Simon to escape.

If he entered the demon realm, things would become somewhat troublesome for me.

"Make yourselves useful."

All five humans straightened at the sound of his voice.

"Find my chosen’s severed right forearm. The one burning with black flames."

Mara’s gaze flicked toward the empty scorch marks.

"Your Eminence-"

The God of War disappeared before she could finish.

Wind rushed into the place where he had stood, stirring the dust around their knees.

For several breaths, none of the leaders moved. Pavel looked at the empty road, then at the blood beside the shattered buttress. Tomas stared at the scorched patch where the arm had been.

Mara slowly turned toward the lower battlefield.

Simon was not returning to Frostveil.

He was making for the rift.

And the God of War had gone after him.