Chapter 665: The Broken Boy
Night Terror's eyes narrowed as blackish ichor slicked down his skin, almost adorning it in a manner of sinister beauty.
Even though his senses were now instantly heightened and wary of the kids before him, he couldn't attack. His Master's orders were paramount.
Night Terror's eyes for a moment gleamed with a feral bloodthirst, but in a jiffy, the vicious monster suppressed and killed the wickedness in his eyes.
The boys, however, did not care. Lenn threw his sword in the air, a horizontal slash flashing upwards. Night Terror again threw one hand to block the attack.
As sparks flew upon the collision of the thin silver blade with black polished skin, Lenn muttered again.
"Reversal."
The same thing happened again. The strike that Night Terror successfully blocked came back again.
A long tear ran across his hand, causing blood to crudely spray outward.
Lenn did not waste any time; he dove in with a blurring barrage of attacks, his two swords tearing through the air in complex but ferocious patterns.
Each biting point of the sword was met with a terrifying block from Night Terror. And each blocked attack induced an even more vehement damage upon the devil.
The intense exchange prolonged for a while, filling the corners with the cold and wicked screech of thin metal, sparks mixed with black ichor flowing in the air as if gravity mattered little amidst them.
With a final cross outward slash, Lenn managed to wrench the monster's hands free from each other, exposing its chest.
In a fluid motion, he twisted his body mid-air, slamming a spinning kick into the hinge of the devil's neck along with a terrifying shout of power.
"Recoil!"
His second leg, as the first connected, also snapped upward with brutal precision.
As the second one connected, a terrifying carnage was unleashed; blood splurged out of both points of connection, as if the strikes had gained the impact force of a mountain and ripped out of the monster's skin instead of into the monster's skin.
Night Terror lost his balance, staggering to the side as a fountain of blood spilled from his neck and jaw.
Schneider watched from behind, his eyes glittering with intense reverie and mind singing praises of this priceless sight.
'Amazing! Lenn is really amazing!'
Lennister was a prodigy of the Stahem clan. They were a clan that merged with the Verulania kingdom and became a dukedom.
Their strength was so frightening that when they became a part of Verulania kingdom, they were immediately granted status as one of the highest noble houses.
The Stahem clan's uniqueness of talent branched into the ability to manipulate force and redirect it, which made them a headache to deal with amongst renowned drifters of the world.
Even though their patriarch was a Sage, several Patriarchs who were Paragons always stayed cautious of him-Lennister's father.
Schneider's thoughts were interrupted as the devil before them released a low growl.
A corner of Lenn's mouth curled into a sly smirk. The boy tilted his head with a wicked light fiercely burning in his eyes.
"What? Finally ready to go on the offensive?"
Compared to before, dark circles had formed beneath the boy's eyes. An ability like that was undoubtedly eating off his reserve of soul essence at an unfair speed.
But something else seemed to also be happening with him... something that hid a gaze of haste in the depth of his eyes.
Night Terror stared for a couple of seconds at the wounds on its hands; the stare prolonged until Lenn's voice attracted his attention.
"If you are waiting for those to heal, that would be impossible. Reversal operates on a simple principle: what you should have successfully blocked hits you with the ratio of your block intensity. Recoil is for successful attacks, simply multiplying the impact and placing its starting point in finishing point, and finishing point in starting point. In other words, those wounds are a part of you returned to you, not inflicted by an external force... your body sees no need to heal them..."
"Not that I expect you to understand any of that." Despite saying that, Lenn could not shake off that feeling of conversing with a being that could very well understand him.
Night Terror, despite his feral look, reflected a deep and strange intelligence in his eyes.
This was very confusing for Lenn; he had never come across such a feeling. It felt... wrong and unsettling.
Discarding all he was feeling, lines formed over his facial features as a morose frown settled upon his face like dark clouds before a heavy rain.
He slowly raised both swords, extending one fully forward and folding his hand to make the other fall short in length.
His eyes became more gloomy by the passing second. His former calm and brilliant demeanor was slowly dissipating, replaced by a depressed and melancholic face.
"You know, you have a lot of power... So far so good, I have only been returning one-third of your block intensity, and yet it's terrifying. I wonder what happens if I unleash all your accumulated block power on you."
Even his voice had changed, dragging as if talking was one hell of a hassle.
'Oh crap,' Schneider exclaimed from behind as he heard the voice. He put his hands over his head and took a cautious step backward before calling.
"Lenn?"
"You bastard, who is Lenn... this is Nel, you idiot!"
Even his words were coated with depravity and a stark contrast to how polite and calm the usual Lenn was.
"Ah shit..." Schneider staggered backward, cursing beneath his breath. "Even though he hasn't used his abilities past five minutes, his alter ego is already breaking out. This means having to deal with such a monster is taking more toll on him than usual. Shit! I have to get the leader before this fight finishes!"
Staggering further back, Schneider turned and ran out of the corner.
Meanwhile, a chilling atmosphere settled between Night Terror and Lennister.
The devil now had a cold and dangerous crimson light blazing softly in his eyes.
Lenn... Nel did not look like he cared; a sadistic grin slowly crept up his face as he licked his
lips.
"At least the bastard left me with a good meal this time."
Nel's eyes snapped open, wide with alarm. He tilted his head sharply and whipped his sword across his shoulder in a desperate defense, but he was too slow.
A sudden, biting force slashed through the edge of his shoulder, and crimson spattered like paint flung from a careless hand.
Pain exploded through him. His fingers trembled against the hilt of his sword as his knees nearly buckled under the force of the blow.
He hadn't even seen the strike. A stunned gasp caught in his throat, his mind racing to piece together what had just happened. The gash throbbed, hot and wet, as blood trickled down his
arm in a steady stream.
Nel's eyes gleamed with a twisted joy as he whispered.
"Return."
In an instant, the impossible happened. A massive chunk of Night Terror's right side, along with both arms, exploded outward in a grotesque spray of gore.