572 In The Fray [PART 1]
The battlefield seethed with chaos, wafting with the pungent and distasteful smell of rotten flesh and blood.
The monsters, their grotesque figures distorted by a soft crimson haze, advanced in twisted waves, limbs dragging against the ground, eyes hollow and hungry.
Northern's gaze sharpened, cold and focused, the faintest grin playing at his lips as he lowered himself into a stance.
In one hand, a black and red dagger gleamed with an eerie passion to draw blood; in the other, a pitch-black, lusterless sleek stiletto with a curved blade screamed with a faint and almost unheard cry, seeming to absorb the light around it.
Around Northern, the others fought desperately, their expressions a blend of determination and terror.
Alystren's eyes were wide, panic laced with a dark resolve as he hacked at a beast lunging for him, his blade carving through putrid flesh with a sickening wetness.
He gasped, stumbling back as more monsters pressed in, his breaths ragged, every swing of his weapon tinged with the desperation of a man clinging to the edge of survival.
Jeci moved with graceful ferocity, her attacks precise, her expression a mask of focus despite the chaos around her.
She spun, her spear flashing as it cut through the mist, slicing into the abominations that dared approach her side.
But every victory was fleeting—more creatures replaced those that fell, their stench filling the air, suffocating, relentless.
In the thick of it, Dante slashed forward, his sword cutting arcs of crimson light as he carved a path through the flood.
His face was tense, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple, but his movements were sharp, calculated.
His gaze flicked to Northern every now and then, a mixture of frustration and reluctant respect hardening his features.
Northern moved, his daggers a blur of black and pale red, each strike leaving a shimmer of darkness in its wake.
His attacks were not wild, not rushed—they were calculated, each movement an efficient, lethal sweep.
His Void Tendrils writhed around him, snapping at any creature that drew too close, twisting and tightening like serpents hungry for flesh.
As the tendrils pierced through the monsters, he felt their essence drain, a dark, invigorating energy flooding his veins, rejuvenating him even as his body pushed itself to the edge.
Revant darted through the fray, his gloved hands glowing with a faint, ghostly light.
His fists hammered into the monsters, movements brutal yet precise, his face a mask of stoic fury.
With each impact, a shockwave rippled through the air, shattering bones and tearing through flesh—Revant, despite his fury, fought with discipline, his rage controlled, channeled into each blow.
Alystren stumbled beside Shin, his grip faltering as another creature lunged at him, its mouth wide and fangs dripping with thick, black ooze.
He gritted his teeth, summoning the last of his resolve as he swung his blade, severing the beast's head in one desperate, shuddering arc.
Beside him, Shin's face was taut with concentration, his expression unreadable, his gaze flickering with a dark light.
He pressed forward relentlessly, his sword held with both hands, carving through the monstrosities with no resistance at all.
It was like a blade cutting through water. Shin's movements were minimal; from the way he moved, anyone could gauge the level of his experience.
Even though he had been stuck as a Master for years, he exhibited technicality and dexterity that was almost equal to that of the Paragons on this battlefield.
With swift, short leg movements, his sword would curve through the air like a vicious serpent, tearing into rotten flesh.
Blood splattered on his face and dark-purple armor as he brutally carved his way through the abominations.
Fighting by his side, Alystren brimmed with motivation as he witnessed the mastery of the sword that Shin was displaying.
The funny thing was, Shin wasn't even using any sword techniques.
Alystren knew what it was like receiving a sword technique from a family heritage; he knew how devastating it could be—it was the best thing about Heritages.
If Shin had used it, he would have seen it, but he didn't, which meant the seasoned warrior had been fighting with mere calculation of his environment and strategic swinging of his sword.
Of course, all this was possible because Shin had a luxurious knowledge of martial arts and its foundation.
Alystren's eyes widened as he spotted movement from behind. He suddenly burst forward, spinning in the air and landed with a spine-shattering kick on the back of a monster.
The monster's maw had been inches away from grazing Shin from behind.
As the creature slammed into the ground, sending webbed cracks running through it, Shin turned back. He looked at Alystren and nodded appreciatively.
In a battle like this, time was precious. Without delay, he plunged his sword forward, piercing into the creature that leaped at him.
He pushed a leg to the side, joining his sword hand to hold the hilt as he brutally tore through—and out of—the monster's belly.
The sword yanked out furiously, in the same motion slashing across the neck of another monstrosity.
Within that same breath, Shin changed the trajectory of the sword and swung down with a swift pivot of his body, striking the monster that almost gnawed at his legs.
Everything happened in a quick, unbroken succession of speed, his eyes flickering with dark resolve. When some monsters met his gaze with their hollow eyes, they trembled back.
Alystren, seeing Shin's skill, couldn't help but be amazed—couldn't help but feel like he had found a lifeline.
Many people knew of the Kageyama clan. They were a crude existence, responsible for atrocities such as the assassination of important figures, and renowned for their fine swordsmanship.
For the right price, they could kill anyone. They didn't disclose the identity of their clients, and anyone was welcome to challenge them—of course, nothing but a gruesome death awaited such a person.
And most times, the right price had never included money. In fact, money was the least of what a client had to worry about.
So much information about Shin's family flooded Alystren's head as he watched him with awe and simultaneously matched his pace, filling in for places where Shin was blinded.
Witnessing Shin's abilities like this, and thinking about Ryan and Northern, he couldn't help but feel like he had been the weakest in the group all along.
He gritted his teeth in pain and cursed internally.
'Damn, I was stupid.'