BUILDING MY OWN EMPIRE - My Journey from Nothing to Overwhelming Power-Chapter 81 – The Catastrophe Horse

"Lord Jo’s condition is critical," a hoarse voice came out, trembling with fear.

Ten fighters stood around Jo.

His injuries were extremely severe, and the amount of blood he was losing every moment was enormous.

"Can’t you use your ability to stop the damage?" one of the ten fighters asked.

"I already used it... but..." he whispered, swallowing before adding, "Lord Jo’s injuries are too serious. We must move him to the hospital immediately."

"Have you lost your mind?" another fighter shouted. "There are at least several enemy lords on the way."

"Do you have another solution?"

"Are we supposed to abandon Lord Lemon because you’re afraid?"

"Shut up. Don’t put me in a position where I’m accused."

"Silence!" Logan shouted.

His eyes suddenly lifted toward the sky.

"What the hell is that?" one of them yelled.

Above them...

From within the black rift...

Four legs emerged, followed by wide wings.

A white horse, five meters tall, with wings of white feathers twice that length.

Above the horse, a loud laugh rang out.

"Did you kill the priest? Hahaha!"

The speaker wore a white robe decorated with golden threads. His white hair flowed long and neatly, matching the majesty of his legendary steed.

The eyes of the ten fighters turned toward him.

None of them moved.

Every single one of them sensed a terrifying power...

Far greater than that of the lord they had faced before.

"Just subordinates..." the third-rank lord murmured. "All of you possess specialized weapons?"

Another loud laugh burst from his lips. He raised his hands and pushed his robe back.

"This place... seems to be a treasure indeed, just as they said," the lord whispered. "But first..."

His eyes narrowed toward Jo.

"He’s strong. How did the priest manage to bring him down?"

"He must die."

Suddenly—

The wings of the white horse began to flap.

Dozens of long white feathers scattered outward.

They hovered in the sky...

Then shot forward.

"Get ready!" one of the fighters shouted.

Everyone raised their weapons.

The enemy was stronger...

Far stronger.

They knew it the moment he appeared.

But surrender was not an option for them.

And with one of their leaders gravely wounded before them...

Their sense of responsibility reached its highest point.

The fighters jumped and spread themselves around Jo.

The wave of feathers descended rapidly.

One fighter raised both hands.

Before them, a massive mass of fire formed.

Another fighter created a similar mass of water.

A third fighter pulled out a long white bow made of ivory and drew three long ivory arrows from it.

Logan raised his sword.

He didn’t attack.

Instead, black threads flowed from his body, connecting to the other nine fighters.

Immediately he knew the battle would become one of endurance.

Accumulation would determine the strength of each clash.

His new ability allowed him to store accumulated power and redistribute it to others.

Even so—

Logan raised his sword and prepared for battle.

The large feathers approached within dozens of meters.

Then—

"Now!" one fighter shouted.

Everyone attacked at once.

Ten massive attacks surged toward the feathers.

BOOOOOOM!

The two forces collided.

The thunderous sound of multiple attacks echoed together at the moment of impact.

"Well done," said the third-rank lord.

His attack had been stopped.

"We stopped it!" one fighter shouted with a joyful smile. "A third-rank lord’s attack—we stopped it, everyone!"

"Shut up and look!" another shouted.

Dozens of feathers formed again...

Twice the previous number.

The lord sat comfortably upon his horse as he released another wave.

The fighters unleashed their attacks again.

This time, the one who shouted the signal was a different fighter.

The lord narrowed his eyes.

The attacks collided again.

Once more, the attack was stopped.

The fighters barely had time to breathe before another wave—twice the size—rushed toward them.

The lord watched again.

The fighters quickly formed their strikes.

Again, a different fighter shouted the command.

Then the wave was stopped.

A fourth wave.

A fifth.

A sixth.

Each time the number increased...

And each time the fighters struck harder and stopped the attack.

"Each time... a different fighter calls the defensive strike," the third-rank lord whispered.

"This makes identifying their leader troublesome. All of them attack together without instructions."

He pulled back the hood attached to his robe and revealed his head.

His green eyes gleamed, and the shine of his snowy hair intensified.

"This kind of planning... belongs to someone truly intelligent."

Once again, a new batch of feathers formed.

Then—

They split into ten clusters.

Each moved to a different position in the sky.

Then once more—

They rushed toward the fighters.

Each of the ten fighters turned toward the wave coming for him.

They formed their counterattacks again.

The strikes surged forward.

The lord’s eyes observed everything.

Every movement.

Every glance.

Every word.

He was waiting for someone to reveal the leader.

"This is a good opportunity to learn more," he murmured. "I’ll play with them and discover their leader."

"Perhaps afterward I’ll kill him... and see what the rest will do. Will another leader rise? Or something else happen?"

The attack was stopped again.

More feathers formed.

Another multi-directional assault.

They defended once more.

This continued for some time.

One of the fighters turned.

"Are we going to keep doing this?"

"Calm down," whispered another nearby. "Look at him... he’s watching. He must also be losing accumulation trying to break our defense."

Several minutes passed.

Suddenly a fighter shouted,

"Lord Jo!"

"What?" Logan shouted.

"There’s no more time. We have to carry him to the lord now!"

They all looked at each other.

"Listen!" one of them shouted.

"Two of you carry him toward the cave!"

They didn’t hesitate.

Two fighters rushed forward and began lifting Jo.

Suddenly—

A thousand feathers formed in the sky.

They rushed downward.

Surrounding everyone.

Blocking the path.

"Are you trying to escape with him?" the voice rang out from above.

"That will cost you... perhaps the lives of some of you."

Everyone stopped moving.

Then five fighters turned toward the lord.

The other five moved toward the side, trying to break through the encirclement.

"So... you’ve decided to sacrifice," the lord said.

"No!" Logan’s voice rang out loudly.

Then another warrior added,

"We’ve decided... to defeat you."

"And how will you do that? I haven’t even attacked you yet."

"All that exhausted most of your accumulation was a mid-level catastrophe beast."

The lord raised his hand.

The third-rank lord stood upon the back of the catastrophe beast.

His body was upright, his cloak moving slowly in the wind high above the sky.

Beneath him—

Stood the mid-level catastrophe beast.

The Furious Feather Horse.

A massive creature whose body resembled a colossal warhorse, but whose wings stretched with terrifying breadth, covered in dense layers of white feathers sharp as blades.

The lord glanced over the battlefield for a moment.

Then—

He jumped.

His body shot upward with astonishing lightness.

And settled in the sky.

Standing there...

As if the air itself carried his weight.

Below—

The Furious Feather Horse began to move.

Its body lowered slightly.

Then—

It spread its wings once more.

FSSSHHH!

The enormous wings stretched through the air, and the feathers upon them trembled violently.

Suddenly—

Dozens of feathers detached from the wings.

They were no ordinary feathers.

They were long, solid, gleaming with blade-sharp edges.

Then—

They launched.

The feathers shot through the air like white arrows.

Heading directly toward the ten soldiers standing across the field.

But this time—

Something was different.

The feathers...

Did not stop forming.

Every moment—

More detached.

Dozens...

Then dozens more.

The white swarm began filling the sky.

The ten soldiers raised their heads suddenly.

"Prepare!"

One of them shouted.

But—

It was already too late.

Suddenly—

The pressure descended.

As if a mountain had fallen upon them.

The dense rain of feathers poured from every direction.

SHHHHHHH!

The ground around them exploded under the barrage.

The pressure was terrifying.

The soldiers barely managed to raise their weapons to defend.

Some immediately fell to their knees beneath the weight of the assault.

Some screamed.

And others...

Couldn’t even speak.

The white storm lasted several heavy seconds.

Then...

After a while—

It stopped.

The feathers no longer fell.

The sky quieted.

And the dust slowly began to settle.

Among the soldiers...

They were still standing.

Exhausted.

Panting.

Some of their armor had been torn apart.

And the battlefield around them was filled with feathers embedded in the earth like knives.

A brief silence fell.

Then—

One soldier suddenly shouted.

His voice full of terror.

"Lord Jo!"

Everyone turned toward him.

The soldier ran toward one of his fallen comrades lying on the ground.

He knelt beside him.

Then slowly lifted his head.

His face was pale.

And he said with a broken voice,

"Lord Jo..."

He paused.

Then the words came out with difficulty.

"...has died."

Everyone... fell into darkness.

For only a moment...

Then—

A dark fury began to seep into all of their eyes.