Chapter 61: Fools and Their End
He raised his longsword, the wind Originat at its tip now swirling into a condensed, razor-sharp vortex. The grass around him flattened from the pressure, and leaves were torn from nearby branches.
"Now, let me show you the difference between an Origin Realm weakling and a true Spirit Realm cultivator," he said, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Wind Slice."
He swung his blade downward, releasing a crescent arc of compressed wind that screamed through the air toward Lucien, wanting to shred him into pieces.
The wind engulfed Lucien, swallowing his entire form as the young man smirked in disdain.
This is what you get for going against Young Master Kaelen. The seven of them gathered back together.
"Hope he won’t be killed by such an attack," one of them asked in a worried tone.
If Lucien died, they would be disqualified from the assessment, something none of them wanted.
"He won’t. Maybe just at death’s door," the young man snickered, his voice dripping with arrogance.
They waited for the wind to dissipate, the young man’s smirk widening with each passing second.
But then, the smirk on his face faltered. The wind dissipated, revealing the figure standing where Lucien had been bound.
Lucien stood unharmed, the thorns that had held him now reduced to splinters scattered across the scorched ground. His clothes were slightly torn, but his skin remained unmarked, untouched by the wind blade.
"Not bad," Lucien said, brushing a stray piece of thorn from his shoulder. "But you’ll need more than that."
Their eyes widened as they stared at the scene before them, expressions of disbelief frozen on their faces. There wasn’t even a hint of a scratch on Lucien’s body.
They found this unbelievable as they looked at him from head to toe, frozen in place.
"Impossible," the young man roared, his voice cracking with disbelief.
"What’s impossible?" Lucien said calmly, his tone almost bored. "Were you expecting me to be squashed? Or did you simply not consider the possibility that I might be stronger than you?"
The young man’s face twisted in fury. He charged again, his blade swinging wildly, fueled by rage and wounded pride.
Lucien sighed. There was no more time to waste. He had already gauged their strength, it was time to end this.
Lightning began to crackle from Lucien’s body, arcs of electricity dancing across his form like serpents of pure energy.
Lightning Rush.
The young man didn’t see Lucien move. He didn’t even register the shift in the air. Then, an intense, searing pain jolted him from his thoughts.
He looked down. His right arm was gone, severed cleanly, and he hadn’t even noticed when it happened.
A sharp, painful grunt escaped his lips as the realization crashed over him. His eyes widened in horror, and a chill ran down his spine.
The others immediately became vigilant, their weapons raised as they charged again.
Before Lucien, a green circular rune appeared on the ground. From it, massive branches of trees burst forth, rushing toward Lucien with insane speed, their jagged edges aiming to impale him.
Lucien unsheathed his armament, the longsword dancing in his grip like an extension of his will. He swung it once, a single, fluid arc.
Before their very eyes, they watched as Lucien sliced through the branches, severing them with effortless precision. The green circular rune shattered into nothing, scattering like dust in the wind.
He had destroyed their attacks directly.
The others continued their assault. One swung his whip, the leather cracking through the air like a thunderclap, aiming to coil around Lucien’s neck.
Lucien raised his sword, meeting the whip with a precise deflection. The leather wrapped around the blade for a brief moment, but Lucien twisted his wrist, and the whip snapped back, severed cleanly in two.
Another man lunged with a dagger, aiming for Lucien’s side. Lucien sidestepped, his movements fluid and unhurried, and brought the pommel of his sword down on the man’s wrist. The dagger clattered to the ground, and the man stumbled back, clutching his broken hand.
Two archers released their arrows simultaneously, the projectiles streaking toward Lucien from opposite directions. He didn’t even glance at them. With two swift, almost lazy swings, he deflected both arrows, sending them spinning harmlessly into the trees.
The remaining three men hesitated, their confidence crumbling. They exchanged uneasy glances, their weapons trembling in their hands.
Lucien’s gaze swept across them, calm and unwavering. "Is that all?"
Silence. The only sound was the wind rustling through the crimson leaves and the heavy breathing of his opponents.
With his Awakened talent, even though they were S Rank, he had resistance towards their elemental-based attacks. And with his defense, the rest were negligible.
"Then it’s my turn."
Lucien raised his hand, and the air around him shifted. Silver-blue runes began to form in the air above him, spinning and expanding into a massive, circular array. The runes blazed with violent energy, their light cutting through the crimson shadows of the forest. The characters within them pulsed with ancient power, crackling with electricity that made the air hum with raw, untamed force.
The men’s eyes widened as they felt the pressure building. The ground beneath their feet trembled under the strain of the energy.
The young man, clutching the stump of his severed arm, looked up at the descending runes with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "What... what is that?"
The circular rune descended, hovering just above the ground, its light intensifying with each passing moment. The energy within it was overwhelming, suffocating. But before it could fully manifest, a thought crossed Lucien’s mind.
This is too flashy. It will draw attention.
He quickly altered the technique, suppressing its intensity. The blinding light dimmed, the roaring energy quieted to a low hum, and the rune shrank, its power condensed into a more contained form. Instead of a massive pillar of lightning, a precise, controlled surge of electricity rippled outward, striking the six men with surgical precision.
Thunderfall Descent.
They didn’t have time to scream. The electricity consumed them in an instant, their bodies seizing as they were thrown backward, unconscious before they even hit the ground.
When the light faded, the six men lay sprawled across the scorched earth, smoke rising from their clothes. They were alive, but barely.
Only the young man remained standing, though his body trembled uncontrollably. His severed arm still bled, and his face was pale, drenched in cold sweat. He stared at Lucien with wide, terrified eyes.
"You..." he stammered. "What... what are you?"
Lucien sheathed his sword, his expression calm. "Someone who doesn’t appreciate being followed."
He looked at the young man who had just asked the question. It seemed people tended to get smarter when they were in danger.
Lucien walked towards the unconscious men and knelt down. One by one, he held their tokens and crushed them into pieces. The sound of shattering echoed softly through the clearing, each break a sentence of disqualification from the assessment.
The young man watched in horror, his face growing paler with each broken token. When Lucien finished, he turned to face him.
"No!" the young man screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "You can’t—"
Lucien’s hand moved swiftly. He reached for the young man’s token, still intact at his waist, and crushed it without hesitation.
The young man’s eyes widened. A mouthful of blood spurted from his lips as the weight of his failure crashed down on him. His body swayed, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Lucien felt no pity for him. This was the reward for his actions, and he had been warned.
He looked around, his senses scanning the area. The battle would have alerted others. It was time to leave.
They were just jackals of a fool.
Lucien turned and disappeared into the crimson shadows of the forest, leaving behind the unconscious bodies and the lingering scent of blood.