CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 0052: LIMITLESS MANA-ASHEN SEVER

"Ashen Sever!"

Modret muttered in his heart as he slashed out with his sword once more, causing the overwhelming world of white surrounding them to flicker and darken for a subconscious moment.

The attack moved at blinding speed, a swift arc of fire heading directly toward the spot where Iron Hand had previously collapsed.

The snow rustled slightly, as if a figure were struggling to rise, just as the sword art struck the location.

A mist of blood sprayed outward, yet Modret’s heart was far from calm.

’Still nothing from the system? What kind of opponent is this?’ Modret was filled with shock.

However, with his infinite mana, he didn’t delay for an instant, swiftly slashing out with his sword again.

His hand cracked violently but was instantly regenerated by his numerous abilities.

One attack.

Two attacks.

Ten attacks.

More than a minute passed with Modret continuously unleashing the Ashen Sever, but he still didn’t receive any notification from the system.

’What the hell? Is he an undying entity?’

Modret’s hand already felt sore. Despite the constant regeneration of his cracked hand after each attack, the searing pain and weariness it brought were difficult to endure.

Modret’s hand trembled as he raised the lightning-fire sword to release the Ashen Sever once more.

Subconsciously, he glanced at the surrounding blue-masked assassins; they still hadn’t made a move to stop him despite all that had happened.

’It’s as if they know the extent of his strength and the fact that these attacks can’t kill him... How do I break the circle? Do I kill them off first? Will that give him the time to regain himself?’

Many thoughts raced through Modret’s mind, and he was unable to come to a conclusion on what to do.

Nonetheless, it was an undeniable fact that his strength was rapidly dwindling.

He had barely nine minutes left with infinite mana; after that, he would be like meat on a chopping block, left only to be slaughtered.

Stabilizing his trembling hand, he let out another series of sword attacks.

A few more minutes passed in this manner.

’Still nothing?’ Modret was exasperated, his facial expression turning unsightly with frustration.

Was this where he would face his death?

He turned his gaze in the direction of the blue-masked assassins.

Suddenly, as though thinking of something critical, he squinted his eyes at a particular figure among them.

’This...’ Modret recognized the snake ring on her finger; it was similar to the one she had given him when he was still a baby. ’Jarvis, that bitch!’

Modret growled internally, activating all his speed and rushing in her direction.

Finally, all six blue-masked assassins made their move.

A surging barrier erupted, surrounding Jarvis, and then Modret heard a melodious, siren-like ringing in his ear.

’The Enchantress...’ Modret could feel himself falling under a powerful illusion.

Without hesitation, he conjured a cloud of black flames, protecting his body and momentarily covering him from the lady’s attack before he retreated.

After that, the assassins didn’t make any further move; it seemed their mission was just to protect her.

Just then, a sharp, resonating voice cut through the air...

"MODRET!"

Recognizing the voice of the youth he’d been fighting, Modret snapped his gaze in his direction.

Iron Hand roared wildly, and Modret could sense the savage happiness in his tone.

"Thank you so much, Modret! Thank you for giving me such a healthy battle... for this, I will spare your life."

His voice was filled with confidence, and Modret noticed that from the deep crater he had been striking, a swirling mass had begun forming.

From a thin blue light, blue, pulsating veins began wriggling outwards.

’What the hell?’ Modret exclaimed in shock.

The blue veins seemed no different from those within the celestials, and he could easily recognize their disgusting, alien properties.

’Is he a celestial?’

Modret had the thought, but he couldn’t be certain of anything yet.

He raised his gaze to stare at the transformation, meanwhile Iron Hand’s voice continued echoing into the surrounding space.

"I didn’t expect you to have another ability to grant you so much mana. MODRET! Are you even human? How many abilities do you possess?"

"Using that sword art should have drained you, or even worse, killed you, but here you are, still perfectly fine..."

"I truly want you to join the Illuminati, Modret... after sparing your life, you should think about the decision deeply and come to me with your answer."

At this point, the wriggling veins had formed a human-like figure, and Modret noticed that where its heart was supposed to be was a pulsating, luminous green object.

’What? Isn’t that... a Celestial Core?’ His eyes widened in astonishment.

Before long, the wriggling veins regenerated fully, completely covering up the beating green core and also making him look entirely human.

A purplish aura surrounded him, cladding him in green robes.

"Modret, do you know? You aren’t the only person who has mastered a sword art. Moreover, I have almost completely mastered a set. And the best of all, I have enough energy to back them all up!"

As Iron Hand spoke, he picked up his dual swords lying beside him, then his figure flickered like a faint, illusory shadow.

A series of glistening arcs danced through the air, and for a moment it seemed as though a crescent moon had appeared in the blinding white world.

The arcs formed all sorts of ethereal night creatures, and different, haunting sounds echoed into Modret’s mind.

Before he could even move, the different crescent sabers landed on him, splitting his torso and limbs and sending him crashing through the distance.

"Lunar Eclipse Sword Art: Dreamy Moon," Iron Hand muttered with a faint voice as he lowered his sword.

His gaze shifted to Modret, and he smiled underneath the mask which had appeared on his face at some point, "Time for me to return the favor. I counted how many attacks you gave me, you know right?"

After he finished speaking, Iron Hand slashed out with his dual swords once more.

This time the attacks were doubled, forming crescents that spiraled into the air.

They contrasted sharply with the white world, looking like a stark flaw in the flawless scenery as they struck repeatedly at Modret.

With his infinite mana, Modret could withstand the attack, however, he couldn’t do so for long.

’These attacks are draining my mana at an alarming rate. Fortunately, it is infinite, but I have just four minutes left...’

Modret struggled to come up with a counterattack, however, nothing surfaced in his mind.

He was despairing as time passed, as the attacks were getting too much to handle.

The onslaught of attacks from Iron Hand continued for more than four minutes, and only when he felt that Modret’s aura had receded and he was truly on the verge of death did he finally stop, leaving Modret half-dead.

"So soon? I thought he would last for a few more minutes... unfortunately," Iron Hand sighed in regret, shaking his head.

He walked up to Modret and glanced down at his broken form.

"Modret, my name is Troy... and I look forward to fighting you in the future..." He bent down and ruffled Modret’s hair slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

Slinging his sword onto his back, he casually glanced at the remaining members of the organization.

"Let’s go. I have something to discuss with Master."

It was obvious that the blue-masked assassins showed confusion, not understanding what Troy was doing, but they couldn’t disobey his words, swiftly departing and leaving Modret on the verge of losing his consciousness.

The last thing Modret saw was the departing figure of the purple-masked assassin, with the six followers trailing behind him.