The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess-Chapter 165: The Legacy of Hatred

Hatred flared fiercely in Okas’s eyes, as if he had been dragged back to that day of utter despair.

"And what does that have to do with us?" Sylvia gritted her teeth. "We, the Pink Cat Beastfolk, have never invaded anyone else’s homeland."

"Heh... To us humans, all beastfolk are the same—nothing more than the sinful byproducts of humans and livestock." Okas raised his long blade as magic surged wildly. "There’s nothing more to say. Come!"

"You’re right. According to the terms of the contract, I’ll be killing the hunter. Besides, I’m in a very bad mood right now—I need to vent."

A tall woman wrapped in a crimson-violet robe stepped out of a warp gate with a seductive sway. With a casual wave of her hand, the magical gate snapped shut.

"Miss Ghostly, we’ll leave it to you. Thanks to you, we were able to track down the hunter." Sylvia let out a breath of satisfaction. "That commission fee was absolutely worth it."

Even if she couldn’t kill Simon, the one creating the demand, eliminating the hunter—the supplier—would still help her people.

"No need to be polite."

A pair of black fox ears twitched slightly. Her long, snow-white legs extended from beneath the robe, and her fluffy tail was revealed as well. She simply stood there, yet radiated an irresistible allure.

"A Black Fox Beastwoman... no wonder you can use magic."

Okas couldn’t see her face, but his desire reacted uncontrollably. He licked the edge of his blade, malice thick in his eyes. "Damn it... I’m actually feeling something for a beast. What did you do to me?"

The Black Fox Beastwoman known as Ghostly waved the fan in her hand and spoke in a soft, tingling tone, "Racial talent."

"That scent... it’s familiar. Heh, you’re that merchant who sells magical materials, aren’t you? To think a beast slipped into a human gathering—what the hell was Simon doing?"

"As long as you pay, it doesn’t matter. With enough gold, even a royal ballroom is within reach."

"So how are you going to fight me? Strip naked, bend over, and use that body you’re so proud of to drain me dry? Filthy animal." Okas burst into laughter. "I’ve captured plenty of fox beastwomen and sent them into the arena to be tortured and slaughtered. You’ll be next soon enough."

"You won’t be laughing much longer."

Ghostly flicked her fan, which transformed into a sinister, gleaming divine blade. With a sweep of her left hand, a cluster of ghostly blue foxfire gathered in her palm.

"...Damn... a Divine Chosen? And a spellsword?"

Okas froze, cold sweat instantly pouring down his face. He had initially thought she was just an ordinary mage.

A spellsword was a class that combined magic and melee combat—similar to a battle mage, but with a stronger emphasis on close-quarters fighting.

Killing intent thickened the air between them. The battle was about to erupt.

"Kill!"

With a flip of her wrist, Sylvia drew her dagger. Her figure vanished in a strange blur—becoming nothing more than a shadow. Under the cover of night, she appeared instantly in front of a slaver. A flash of dark light—her dagger struck upward, piercing into the man’s unguarded throat.

"Pshhk—"

Blood burst forth like a fountain.

As if that were a signal, everyone moved at once. The battlefield exploded into chaos in an instant.

"Kill them all! Tier Three Combat Art—Breath-Severing Slash!"

Okas roared, his mind flashing back to his childhood village—layers upon layers of pig beastfolk storming in, hacking off people’s legs on sight, then devouring them alive. He laughed madly. "This time... I won’t run."

"I won’t show you mercy."

Ghostly raised her left hand. "Tier Three Spell—Wind Wall."

"Voom—"

With a thunderous hum, the once-still forest was suddenly torn apart by a violent cyclone, spinning so fast it nearly shredded vision itself. Countless wind blades twisted together, forming a raging wall of wind.

Leaves caught within it were instantly shredded into dust.

The Breath-Severing Slash slammed into the Wind Wall with a deafening explosion, their powers grinding violently against each other.

Okas’s heart suddenly pounded wildly. He jerked his head aside just in time as a streak of silver light grazed his cheek, leaving behind a thin line of blood.

"So strong... as expected of a Divine Chosen."

Using the recoil from the clash, Okas retreated rapidly. A jagged chip had already appeared in his blade.

"And that’s all you’ve got? Poor thing." Ghostly flicked the foxfire in her left hand. "Magic—Invisibility."

Watching his enemy vanish into thin air, Okas’s face turned deathly pale as sweat slid down his temples. "What kind of fighting style is this? Damn it... Divine Chosen have too many tricks."

His heart pounded violently. Years of hunting experience made every hair on his body stand on end. Without hesitation, he lunged forward to the right.

The next moment, a pitch-black blade arc slashed out of nowhere.

"Pshhk—"

The world spun. Okas crashed to the ground like a sack of flour. As he tried to get up, a strange imbalance caused him to stumble and fall again.

"My arm!"

He looked down—his left arm had already been severed, blood spraying endlessly. He hastily wrapped it with his clothes and rolled away just in time to dodge a second strike.

When he looked up again, the fox beastwoman had vanished once more.

"Damn it! Get out here, you bitch! Fight me head-on!"

Okas roared in madness. He could already see that his men were collapsing.

The clash between the slavers and the beastfolk warriors had reached a fever pitch. Already outnumbered, the slavers were further disadvantaged—while the beastfolk wore leather armor and wielded standardized longswords and spears, holding every advantage.

Okas watched with his own eyes as one of his trusted men was pierced through the chest by three or four spears and thrown to the ground. His wide, staring eyes still faced Okas, his lips trembling as if he had something to say—but before he could, he was finished off with two more brutal strikes. The last light in his eyes faded quickly.

What made it worse was that the enemy had a Divine Chosen. Though Sylvia wasn’t particularly strong in direct combat, against lightly armored ordinary men, she was still overwhelmingly powerful.

In just a brief exchange, members of the slaver squad had already begun to flee or surrender.

Okas swung his blade wildly, trying to force the fox beastwoman out. "Come out! Come out!"

"You feel fear too?"

Along with a streak of blade energy, Ghostly suddenly appeared. In an instant, Okas’s legs were severed.

"Both Tier Three... yet I’m like an ant, toyed with at will. This world... is so unfair. I trained so hard..." Okas let out a bitter laugh, propping himself up with his broken blade. "Heh... I’ve fallen today. But someone will carry on our will."

"So will we."

Ghostly did not finish him immediately. Instead, she stepped forward gracefully, emerging from invisibility. "Racial conflict has always been a matter of life and death. Don’t put on such a tragic face—accept your death calmly."

"Tier Three Divine Skill—Ink Severing Curse!"

Black-and-white blade energy surged forth, transforming into strange, tadpole-like runic symbols that layered upon one another as they slashed forward. The ferocious foxfire followed closely behind like a raging flood, instantly swallowing the struggling Okas whole.