The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe-Chapter 211: My Small Death Angel, Clay

Roselyn was among them, her fists blurring in short, brutal hooks and uppercuts that punched straight through grey torsos, pulling out handfuls of bubbling flesh that she discarded without looking.

A knee drove upward into another’s chin, shattering whatever passed for its jaw and sending black ichor spraying in a wide fan.

She grabbed one by the neck with both hands, twisted sharply, and ripped the head free in a wet pop, black fluid gushing from the stump as the body collapsed and began melting immediately.

It was weird to watch, considering she had a smaller body.

She reached one and closed her fists, but then on its chest, then released her fist again.

This created a wide golden shockwave that turned all the Children within 100 meters radius into showers of blood.

The moment her knuckles connected with the central monster’s chest, a brilliant golden ring exploded outward from the point of impact; a pure, radiant energy that rolled across the plain like a silent thunderclap.

Everything caught in that circle disintegrated instantly.

Grey flesh vaporized into fine black mist, bodies bursting open in synchronized explosions of dark blood that rained down in heavy, steaming sheets.

The shockwave left behind a perfect circular clearing of scorched grass and dissolving puddles, the air thick with the metallic tang of spilled ichor.

Roselyn didn’t even pause; she was already charging the next group, her golden braid whipping behind her like a dark death flag, golden energy still flickering faintly around her clenched fists.

She was brutal and extremely methodical in her attacks, cleaving their bodies with her barehands.

Every strike was calculated, and never wasteful, always aimed at the most vulnerable point she could reach in that instant.

A palm strike to the side of a head caved it inward with a wet crunch; an elbow smashed through another’s ribcage, bursting it open from the inside; a spinning backfist caught two at once, shearing their upper bodies clean off in a single motion.

She moved through them like a storm, leaving trails of shredded flesh and bubbling remains in her wake, never slowing and never hesitating, pure focused violence wrapped in that wild, eeriely joyful grin she wore when she got to cut loose.

And... my small death angel, Clay...

Except, I saw no angelic smile on that scary poker face she had on.

Clay was holding a large spiked club and, like a cheetah, moving around the battlefield and swinging it wildly.

The club itself was massive, easily as long as Clay was tall, thick shaft of dark, scarred wood studded with cruel iron spikes that caught the light in dull, menacing gleams.

She gripped it with both small hands near the base, muscles flexing under her pale skin as she darted across the torn-up grass like a predator in full sprint.

Her movements were low and explosive, knees bent, body leaning forward, violet hair streaming behind her in a wild tail as she weaved between the charging Children with terrifying speed.

And with every swing, large chunks of flesh gets taken off.

Each wide arc of the club connected with a sickening thud-crunch, spikes sinking deep into grey, bubbling bodies before ripping free in sprays of black ink.

Huge pieces of flesh tore away in ragged strips—arms, torsos, even whole heads—spinning through the air in slow, wet arcs before landing with heavy, squelching sounds and immediately beginning to melt into steaming puddles.

The spikes left behind deep gouges that wept dark fluid, the severed chunks twitching once or twice on the ground like they were still trying to crawl back to their body before dissolving completely.

She was swinging, spinning, and even slammed the ground ones, creating a light chasm where the Children fell into.

Clay spun on her heel mid-stride, club whipping around in a full circle that caught three Children at once and flung them skyward in a spray of black blood.

Then she flew high, brought the club down in a brutal overhead slam straight into the earth.

The impact rang out like a thunderclap, with the ground splitting open in a jagged line of cracked soil and glowing light, a narrow chasm that yawned wide enough to swallow half a dozen monsters at once.

They tumbled in with crazed confusion, wet thrashing, grey limbs flailing uselessly against the glowing walls as the fissure snapped shut behind them with a grinding rumble.

The Children clawed their way back up almost immediately, their grey hands scrabbling at the edges, bubbling faces rising just above ground level.

But Clay was already there, planting her feet wide, hips twisting, club cocked back like a batter waiting for the perfect pitch.

She swung in a perfect horizontal arc, full body rotation powering the blow.

The spiked head met the row of rising skulls with a series of sharp, wet, explosive pops; each one sounding like overripe melons being smashed with a hammer, wet cracks followed by quick, meaty bursts.

Heads burst open in unison, black blood erupting in synchronized geysers that painted the air dark before raining down in heavy, sticky drops.

Grey matter and fluid sprayed outward in wide fans, splattering across Clay’s arms and chest as the headless bodies slumped back into the chasm and dissolved into sludge.

She didn’t even blink, just reset her stance, club dripping, poker face cold and utterly emotionless.

The picture of a small, terrifying killer who moved like death itself had decided to wear a fairy’s body today.

Wait, hold up! These fairies are nothing like the once from fairytales!

"This is bad..." Isabelle muttered beside me, "the anomalous six have begun to move!"

Now that I think about it, she’s sending telepathic messages throughout the area.

So, she’s like a general here, huh.

I almost feared she was guarding me from the Children.

It would have been kind of embarrassing, being bodyguarded by someone who looked ten years younger than me.

Oh, I currently kind of look like a teenager myself actually. So she looked only a few years younger.

Ah, but she’s right: discounting the Eldest Born, the others have begun to calmly move down from their raised platform.

The Eldest Born wasn’t moving, so it made me wonder if she was actually weak, and was being protected by the others.

I immediately outstretched my hand to her, almost five football fields away, and felt the heat rising to the center of my palm.

Mixing in a lot of magic power, I created a fire ball the size of a head, hovering just before my outstretched hand.

Only that small gesture, and the Eldest Born flashed her golden pupils to me directly.

Is she feeling threatened?

Anyway, let’s test the theory that she’s actually a weakling despite all those eerie presence and auras.

I let the ball fly, with such force, it took no more than two seconds to traverse the entire plain and reached her.

BOOM!!!

It sounded like dynamite on the mountains, vibrating the ground up to even where I was

"B... Benjamin?!" Isabelle bellowed, shocked.

She was wondering what I was planning when I started making fire.

I guess her shock stems from the way my cool fireball flew so fast, huh?

"How can you make such a powerful fireball without a spell?"

Oh, that was her surprise? Whatever, I guess it works still.

I explained the matter to her;

That it was essentially not a magic spell, in the conventional sense.

Creating something like a fireball from magic, as Lotus taught me, would mean the fire was equally mixed with magic.

Which could make it not as dangerous as actual fire, depending on the magic user though.

However, even if the difference might seem thin, it isn’t for being like us.

But using fire from the fire attribute was REAL fire.

Infact, even hotter than natural one.

But I used magic to expand the reach and explosive quality by thousands, hence why she’d assume it was a spell doing it.

"Oh..." She seemed both relieved and slightly disappointed, "I almost started to think you were truly some type of variant just now. But still, that was an impressive feat, Benjamin. You are a remarkable mage."

"Ahaha, thanks."

When should I tell her that Lotus put me through the wringer until all my spells were wordless and without incantations (even though hers weren’t)?

I bet she’d start looking at me differently. I don’t want them to think I’m some god figure and start becoming distant.