Chapter 1125: Prolonged Struggle

Chapter 1125: Chapter 905: Prolonged Struggle

After their probing ended, Rodrick and Jonathan moved at the same time, and in that instant it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the stone corridor.

A layer of extremely thin yet dazzling silver-blue light bloomed at the tip of Jonathan’s sword. That light spread along the blade, climbed to the hand gripping the hilt, then flowed up his arm to his shoulder armor, finally shrouding his entire body in a solid, heavy Knight’s Will.

His aura was no longer restrained and contained like before, but like a waterfall crashing down from a great height.

Jonathan pressed his sword forward, and with him as the center, the slabs within dozens of steps all cracked open at once. Countless tiny shards were crushed straight down into the ground by the pressure; the area under his feet seemed struck by some massive weight and sank half an inch as a whole.

Rodrick let out a low, guttural roar. Dark-red blood-and-flesh Energy surged from every wound across his body, like a living suit of armor, rolling and covering along his skin.

He was like a mass of burning dark-red flame, even his pupils looked soaked through with blood.

When Rodrick raised his head, his gaze was so ferocious it no longer seemed human, more like a beast that had finally torn apart its chains.

He charged straight at Jonathan, moving so fast that only a twisted trail of red afterimage was dragged out behind him.

The ground was plowed up under his impact, slabs flipping one after another, the flying chunks smashing into the stone walls and bursting out showers of grit.

Jonathan brought his sword down in a single slash. Sword light cut diagonally from midair like a bolt of silver-blue silk being torn apart, and the whole passage filled with the afterimages that sword light left behind.

The two currents of Power collided, unleashing a deafeningly heavy boom, as if something deep within the stone corridor had been forcibly snapped in half.

The shockwave exploded from between them, snapping several nearby stone pillars clean in the middle. The ancient markings on the stone walls flickered wildly as cracks crawled along the walls all the way up toward the vault.

The scattered contestants who had still been able to stand and watch were forced back more than ten steps. Some were cut on the face and arms by the flying rubble, yet didn’t even dare look back, merely fled as far as they could.

The clash between the two Demigod Level experts had become something entirely different. Rodrick was like a blood beast burning from head to toe, every strike carrying a suicidal brutality—fists, short blades, even his forehead could become Weapons.

Where his fists passed, the air was compressed into one explosive bang after another, and the ground was hammered like by a giant maul, collapsing in ring after ring.

Jonathan, by contrast, was like an iron tower reforged within a storm. Every sword swing was wrapped in Knight’s Will so heavy it was almost absolute; his sword no longer fell like fine rain, but each strike was heavier than the last, as though countless invisible mountains were grinding forward with his blade.

Their battle was almost tearing the entire stone corridor apart. Several stretches of markings on the stone walls had gone completely dim, and the gray-white stone floor was smashed into web-like depressions.

Dust, sparks, dark-red blood mist and silver-blue sword light mixed together, lighting up the whole space.

The spectators kept retreating, nearly pushed back to the bend leading to the next section of passage.

The guards, though still holding their ground, were forced to unfold their own defensive means.

Even Duke and Vera, hiding in the dark, felt the stone wall underfoot shaking violently, with rubble and dust constantly raining down from above.

Duke pressed down on Vera’s shoulder and pulled her further back into cover.

He saw clearly that these two had already fought themselves into a blaze; once Demigod Level fighters truly let loose, all the corridors nearby could collapse.

The two of them were busy proving who was stronger in the most primal, most savage way.

The stone platform at the center had long since been blasted beyond recognition by the aftershocks of the fight, yet that black rock Treasure Chest still stood firmly in place.

The dark-gold markings coiled around the chest’s surface flickered uncertainly under their combined pressure. The crowd watching from a distance looked at it greedily, but no one dared to move.

Duke shot Vera a look, and she immediately understood. Using the concealment of the World Tree’s aura, the two of them slowly shifted along the back of the stone wall.

No one around noticed them. The scattered contestants were still retreating farther away, and the only two with the ability to detect them—the Demigod Levels—were locked in a frenzy of battle.

Duke told Vera to stay where she was, while he himself hugged the stone wall and crept toward the Treasure Chest.

The World Tree’s aura was like a layer of flowing moss, firmly masking his life fluctuations and presence.

He was only a dozen steps from the Treasure Chest, yet every step felt like treading on the edge of a blade.

Demigod Level experts had an extremely wide perception range. He could feel those two violently entwining auras sweeping past him like a storm. Several times, shockwaves skimmed the stone wall by his side, rubble striking near his feet; he even pressed his breathing to the barest whisper.

Closer still, and the Treasure Chest was right in front of him.

Duke crouched down, planting one hand on the lid.

The chest was entirely icy to the touch, its surface markings faintly vibrating under his palm.

There was no lock, no trap, only a very simple Energy Lock.

He injected a wisp of Rule Power, and the lid slid open without a sound, a faint dark-gold gleam surging out from within.

Inside lay only two items: a gray-white stone key, and a stone about half the size of a palm.

The key’s shape was similar to that of the previous twelve-hour keys, but the information that flooded in once he held it was much longer: a forty-eight-hour Safe House Key, able to carry two additional guests—something neither of the previous two keys had offered.

As for the stone, it was entirely dark yellow and rough to the touch. The moment it entered his hand, Duke’s Spiritual Sea surged with an intensely strong resonance with the Earth Element Rules.