Blacksmith of the Apocalypse-Chapter 1341: Easier for Both

Standing at the massive door, he presumed to be the entrance to the boss room, Seth halted for a while. The blacksmith had to process what had just happened. Although he was in his 120s, more than 20 levels higher than the dragonnewt guards, the ease with which he was able to take their lives was a shock.

He had just killed six lv.90+ monsters and harvested six pristine big, rare souls, retaining almost 90% of their skills, with three even retaining an ego. In addition, he got six lv.90+ dragonnewt bodies, in peak condition without a single injury.

Seth had gotten used to being somewhat strong thanks to his items, but this was technically a death touch ability, even though it didn't necessarily work for anything stronger or equal to his strength; he was technically a tyrant. The bane of the weak! That's why he took a moment to fight down the excitement he was feeling. With this kind of power, he needed to be very careful not to become overconfident.

Checking for life sign on the other side of the door using

of his Terra Topaz Earrings, he slowly opened the door giant down, finding a big hall beyond it, but this was not the boss room.

The

called this section of the dungeon the “Palace”. It was not the boss room, but Seth was sure he was on the right track. The Chief had to be in the Palace, right? Seeing the guards and champions walking the halls of the palace, the sic guys at the entrance suddenly didn't seem that big anymore.

“Ah, fuck it,” the moment he caught one of these big guys walk down a hallway alone, Seth grabbed the massive humanoids neck. In an instant, his soul left his body, and his body joined the other six in the blacksmith's inventory.

He did tell Bryce that he would take a few more souls in exchange for sparing the orc, didn't he? Although he had just tried to calm down and control himself, he couldn't help but smile. This wasn't going overboard; he did worse, on a bigger scale. Yeah, this was fiiine.

The goal to find the throne room as soon as possible fluttered away like a butterfly on a summer breeze. Instead, the blacksmith played Pac-Man, just that he was an invisible ghost and the dragonnewts patrolling the palace halls were his little yellow beads he swallowed on his way.

When so many guards were missing that someone should have noticed, there was no longer anyone left to notice. Seth had packed away almost 3 stacks of dragonnewt bodies, of the palace guard in his inventory, and he also knew where the boss room was, as he had avoided that big door until now.

“Looks like I was right,” he muttered, finding a big cavern with a crude throne at the other end. The

labeled it the Throne room, the boss room of the dungeon.

~You were right this time,~ Tatzel commented from the pet space.

“It's not like I could have expected the first door just leading into an inner section of the dungeon, okay?” the blacksmith justified himself, having thought the gate with the six guards was the boss room. This place, on the other hand, was not especially guarded at all.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Probably something like 'Our boss is so strong, he doesn't need guards, ' the blacksmith mused, trying to come up with an explanation.

~ That makes 1 out of 3.~ Tatzel joked when Seth found the throne room filled with high-level 90+ Throne Guardians. They had already noticed the door being opened by nobody. They were already vigilant, so Seth saw no reason not to use

at this point.

“Not like it matters,” Seth said with a shrug before he started harvesting another set of souls. Using his speed and the Scorpio escape, Seth weaved between the vigilant guardians, capturing the souls of each with a simple touch.

As they sank to the ground, Seth's head felt a little heavy. The Soul Robbing took a toll on his Mental Power, much more than his . It was closer to using

and summoning a demon.

Still, it paid off. The blacksmith easily got his hands on another 13 guardian souls. All that was left now was the boss.

...

As if a gust of death had swept through the boss room, the elite guard simply fell, and then their bodies vanished into thin air. Pithra jumped up from their crude throne at the back of the chamber, eyes wide open in shock.

She couldn’t believe what was happening. Despite being vigilant against an invisible enemy, her elite guard was simply wiped from existence! Her eyes shifting from left to right, as she tried to concentrate on her senses and took a battle-ready stance.

Her claws were covered in orange aura, ready to tear apart anything and the slightest sign of a presence. Pithra had fought hard for the position of the local chief. She had even killed various male leaders several levels above her to get where she was. She trusted her power, and she wouldn’t be caught off-guard by such petty parlor tricks-

She suddenly felt a cold touch on her nape. A freezing aura invaded her body. It happened within the blink of an eye, but it felt like a lifetime to her, as the glacial hand enveloped her very soul and tried to yank it out of her body.

Pithra knew what pain was. She had been cut, burned, poisoned, dissolved, even partially skinned alive, but never, in her whole life, had she felt such an excruciating full-body shock. Her face, her arms, her innards, it felt as if someone was ripping the skin off her flesh, from the inside, across her whole being.

The scream that left her throat could hardly fathom the torture she was enduring, fighting for her very being to stay within her mortal shell. Pithra had no idea how long this agony continued, but it ended at some point.

Hardly able to grasp a coherent thought, she fell forward on her knees, crawling over the ground. Away, just away. Had she been human, she would be drenched in sweat. The cold energy had not managed to kidnap her into the shadows, but the pain and fatigue of the battle had taken root in her mind.

“Tsk, looks like our levels are not far enough apart. You should have just let go.”

A man suddenly appeared before her, a helmet in one hand and a blackened sword in the other. She might have found his stature and armor imposing if she were not half out of her mind at this point.

“It would have been easier for both of us,” he simply continued, uncaring of her response. Then he swung the sword, its blackened blade covered in mana and deep red flames. Her mind had signed off, but her body's reflexes reacted.

She couldn’t dodge the blade completely, suffering a deep cut across her chest, but she was not dead, yet. She looked back; her body stiffened. The man had vanished from where he had stood before. A soft, melancholic whistle sounded from behind her, accompanied by a quick, merciless slash.

The pain of being severed in two was nothing compared to what she experienced beforehand. If anything, she welcomed the cold embrace of death. In this state, she didn’t even mind if this was her true end, and she didn’t respawn… was what she thought.

When the cold power touched her again, she lacked the energy to resist, and despair filled her mind when she realized that she would truly not be able to return.

The spirit blacksmith had come to harvest her soul, and so he did.

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