Divine Beast Ascension-Chapter 618 - A Predator and a Confession

618 A Predator and a Confession

“Kill the dragon!!”

“Die dragon!”

All sorts of battle cries rose up from the Prodson troops in the middle. In a way, those centermost troops thought they were the lucky ones, able to wait until the beasts were weakened before joining the fray.

That feeling drastically changed as soon as purple, drake fire began to engulf them.

Oli was focused on large-scale attacks with a huge area of effect. He would keep an eye on wind and lightning users, as well as anyone fast enough to threaten him. But, for the most part, Oli was just flying in circles with occasional dives to rip apart one of the faster soldiers before they were an actual threat.

Also, as more and more long-range attacks were launched toward him, Oli was soon more focused on evasion and spewing drake fire. Because the frantic Prodson soldiers would often hit their own allies in the crossfire, making up for Oli’s fewer attacks.

However, once the hillside was definitively collapsing, a grin stretched across Oli’s fiendish face. Oli lightly commented, “Time to move on.”

One powerful flap of Oli’s wings shot him straight up. And another flap redirected him, pointing Oli straight toward the not-too-distant back tunnel. But Oli still unleashed flames from above while beelining for the tunnel, spreading the chaos further.

“That damn drake.”

.....

CH-CHRRING!

Eyeing his foe like the prey Darett was, Sarpo began to push harder with each attack. “Either flee to kill that mortal or face me properly! I don’t like my prey being indecisive. It never tastes as good.”

Chrring!

Darett was panting lightly while trying to step back and create some space to breathe.

But the Thunder Jaguar lorded over Darett with impunity. Along with his electrified claws, an unexpected slew of lightning bolts was spat out of Sarpo’s mouth.

Forced to defend himself by some means, Darett surrounded himself in a tornado. Some lightning bolts were diverted and visibility was reduced as well while Darett turned toward the faraway drake to flee.

Then again, Sarpo didn’t need unblurred eyesight to sense his prey. His predatory hearing and sense of smell were more than enough for that.

ROOOAAR!! Ch-chrring! Crack! FRRRIP!

Blood splattered as Sarpo dove into the bladed tempest. Rather than defend himself or evade injury, Sarpo let his thick hide get pelted with wind blades in order to lunge straight into the back of his prey.

In a sudden storm of lightning, Sarpo’s claws knocked Darett’s claymore aside, causing a glancing, bleeding blow in the jaguar’s hide but nothing more. And Sarpo’s electrified jaws latched onto Darett’s neck. With electricity pumping directly into his spine, Darett was completely paralyzed for a few seconds. Which was more than enough time for Sarpo to rip apart the man’s throat.

Not far away, Ephar was forcing his breathing under control. The commander refused to let himself get mentally overwhelmed, regardless of how hopeless the situation was becoming.

“Don’t worry…”

Chting! Chting! Crun-CHTING!

“I don’t have jaws and claws like Sarpo,” Mertin spoke in the middle of his ceaseless charge. “Odds dictate that your death will be more painless than your assistant’s.”

One sword after the other, Ephar had to keep up with both blades and their unusual tempo.

Though Mertin only had water essence, unlike most of his family, Mertin still crafted a similar sword style to his father’s. One shortsword used the family’s saw-like battle art to offer intense damage with minimal contact. The other sword was teeming with glacial frost. It created a self-repairing, razor-thin layer of ice atop the blade. Both blades were deadly while offering Mertin even more ways to damage and finish off his foe.

Ephar’s battleaxe was still a threat to Mertin, as well. But for every strike that Ephar tried to make, Mertin would sidestep to minimize the damage while offering a trading thrust with his razor-sharp sword.

Now, it was Ephar on the back pedal, struggling to defend himself.

Gashes appeared on Ephar’s arms whenever Mertin’s saw-like blade passed by. Holes in Ephar’s shoulders and thighs appeared with each thrust or swipe of Mertin’s razor-sharp sword. And Ephar’s grip and footing were both beginning to wear out.

Mertin only had a few bleeding injuries, and they were all light. While Ephar’s axe could break through Mertin’s icy essence armor, Mertin’s fast, skating footing made it nearly impossible for the commander to get a clean blow without suffering from a devastating trade.

In the opposite direction of the hill, the duel between Lambier and Rakan continued with Lizbeth on the sideline.

Both men were injured but neither was down for the count.

Lambier suffered from zero cuts, but his body was banged up and bruised from his opponent’s hammer.

In juxtaposition, Rakan was fighting through his bloody cuts and gashes. Nothing was life-threatening, yet. But eventual blood loss would be a problem in their dragged-out duel. And, in Rakan’s mind, he still had to fight Lizbeth after finishing off Lambier.

“If you’re a man of pride, why keep her here?” Rakan spouted. “I’ve heard a great deal about the Flaming Gale and their proud, capable founders. What happened to them? Are you just a boy now?”

Letting Rakan have a step or two of space, Lambier paused his assault, catching his breath.

Since his opponent was allowing it, Rakan continued, “If you’re no cowardly boy, then send her away. Do me in with pride or you’ll never be able to call it vengeance.”

Sighing, Lambier showed a slight grin, “Oh… So you admit that killing you would count as vengeance? Why is that? … Do you dare admit it, or will you also be cowardly and hide?”

Rakan’s furrowed brow flinched. “... Admit what?”

“Admit it!” Lambier shouted this time, letting his emotions explode out of his voice and raging eyes. “Admit that you and your family, the proud Prodson Family, are the reason my dad died! … Admit that much, and I’ll send her away. Because then I’ll know that this is true vengeance.”

Glancing at Lizbeth, Rakan asked, “... Will you honor his order?”

Lizbeth nodded. “If Lambier tells me to, then I’ll head back to the battlefield.”

“Say it,” Lambier spat out. His death-seeking glare tried to reach Rakan’s soul. “Then say it, already!”

Rakan finally relaxed, slightly. “Very well. We did it. It was we, the Prodson Family, that hired Blood Moon to kill you off in order to claim your fast-growing business for ourselves. In the end, your business structure still lives on, thanks to the powerful name of Prodson.”