CHAPTER 67: THE SUN IS UP

They hunted.

Just like Vacuse promised.

Harkon and Vacuse sped through the red fog, their eyes easily piercing through the fog. They ran, leaping through like streaks of blurring figures, far away from the hall.

The red fog let them know where fighting was taking place and they headed towards there.

"Don’t get killed, Captain," Vacuse ordered as they reached the first fighting spot.

It was a slaughter, and Vacuse was there for it.

The red fog blocked the senses of all the Soulbearers that weren’t Vorrakyn, even when their Advancement Stage was high. They turned in place, throwing out wide punches to their surroundings,

Or using their powers to send techniques and skills roaring into the waves.

But no matter what they did, the fog clung to them tightly and curled around their limbs without letting go.

The Vorrakyn ran among them and they were killing them as easily as reaping weeds from harvest plants.

Vacuse looked on in mild disappointment. "They already took care of all the ones here. Let’s look for more in another place."

They took off again.

Different Vorrakyn ran in the fog as if they were fishes in water, their eyes gleaming with killing intent that seemed to stir the fog even more.

"Here, my lord!" Harkon called.

Two Harmonic level Soulbearers were fighting, a Vorrakyn and one of the intruders. Their powers burst booms of shockwaves around them, cracking the ground.

But Vacuse wasn’t looking at them.

Far from where they were fighting, some Soulbearers were standing there, looking around with fear and anxiousness. They must have been the soldiers of the one fighting.

They were also the same Adam stage as Vacuse and Harkon. They wore soft armor and their faces, as well as their aura, carried the feel of experienced fighters.

From what Vacuse could see, their growth must have ended at the first Advancement Stage already, but they made up for it with experience.

Vacuse grinned and the gleam in his eyes seemed to leap out.

But Harkon frowned in disappointment. "My lord, it seems they already surrendered. Look at their weapons on the ground. I thought we would have a great fight after all the..."

He didn’t finish as something shot forward around him, a black blur that he soon recognized as Vacuse. "Wai...!!"

Several dark, long, needle-like condensed energy formed around him and then shot forward like wrong rains.

Bam! Bam!

Void energy hit the heads of the Soulbearers as if they were target practice, and the next instant, they exploded, taking the heads of the others around them with them.

Vacuse frowned.

The fight was too short and he thought from their aura, they would last longer and entertain him. "A shame."

Rith had already given up on teaching Vacuse the right way of using Flicker Lance. He had already accepted that Vacuse intentionally made his Lance unstable just so he could let them explode.

Vacuse enjoyed them that way. To him, the beauty of the Flicker Lance technique was in the explosion.

"Hmm. Why are you looking like that? I only added the surrender part so that it would be much easier to like them. Come, Captain. Let’s shed more blood."

Harkon sighed and dutifully followed.

☆▪︎▪︎☆

Drenvar Vorrakyn, the Dragon Lord, was bleeding from a lot of places.

He lay inside a melting crater, breathing hard, his face covered in blood, with most of it not his own. The sound of fighting around him had long stopped, but a lot of painful groans echoed throughout the hall.

Drenvar forced himself to his feet, and then to move out of his crater, his legs shaking.

He looked around the room with dazed eyes and raised his right hand to wipe his face, his ring blazing wildly. He frowned down at it. "Why are you consuming energy from me?"

His voice was tired and weary.

He moved forward and saw the state the hall was in. It was in a complete mess. Drenvar sighed. "Something like this has never happened to the Vorrakyn before."

He turned around to look at the throne on the raised platform. The throne was the only untouched thing in the whole hall, and it radiated an oppressive aura of its own.

The dragon wings on the throne’s back trembled and shuddered as if it would come alive again, as it did the first time when he had to use the artifact to join the fight with Duke Frexon to defeat the S-rank and then the others.

Bodies lay on the ground in heaps like discarded toys.

"Merchandise. Top farmers. The heads of our artisans. Dead," Drenvar said, his eyes flashing with heat. The Vorrakyn might be bloodthirsty bastards, but they tried their best to protect those in their territory and make it a place where people could gather and live.

Drenvar’s eyes turned cold. "Then why are you not dead, my precious Vassals?"

The remaining Dragon Guards that remained standing gathered around him. They were sweating, breathing hard, but they still had the look of those ready to spill blood.

Drenvar looked at the guards and something else flashed in his eyes. He could remember when some of them turned against him. The guests that were not dead pressed around different corners with their heads on the ground.

Drenvar saw it all and his eyes came to rest on the Vassals again.

The Vassals stood together, their clothes spotless and free of blood, the same as their flesh. Shock and surprise flashed on their faces before they buried them.

Idris Dawringer took a step forward with a frown. "Your Honorable Grace! We should be asking you the same thing! Are you saving us for the last?"

Drenvar blinked. "What?"

Idris Dawringer’s lips curled into a mirthless smile. "You’ve already killed all the people that are always putting pressure on you, asking for more resources. The merchants, for example, are asking for more trade rights with other regions.

"They are asking for you to stop all the restrictions going on inside the West. But now, you’ve silenced everywhere."

Drenvar looked at them in surprise, then he threw back his head and laughed. "I think the sun is up."