'The strongest person here is a two facet Overlord… Madeleine is handling that Phoenix easily. But she doesn't seem to be in a hurry to defeat him.'
Dyon rode upon the back of a gorgeous Ice Phoenix. It was none other than the Overlord beast Dyon had caught for her a few years prior. By now, the poor man was completely docile, syncing with Madeleine's commands.
At the very least, this ending was better than having its chest cavity perpetually open for the sake of being a blood farm.
Madeleine's opponent was a proud griffon with glistening bronze fur and sharp, protruding front claws.
Amphorae was currently fighting an Overlord as well. However, unlike Madeleine, she had to rely on her Treasure of the 33 Heavens – the Golden Dragon Lyre – in order to reach such battle prowess. Still, with it by her side, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Of course, the Failed Clans went mad when they realized their opponent had such a treasure on her. They fiendishly attacked in hopes of snatching it for themselves. Or rather… That was what it seemed like.
'They know Amphorae has such a weapon, yet a three facet Overlord still hasn't appeared. It seems they're very much worried about me, huh…'
Dyon sneered, a mighty scythe appearing in his hand. Its body was almost completely obscured by the fog it, itself emitted. Its sinister, curving blade curled menacing for almost two meters while its long, slender polearm was over three meters long.
Dyon's body began to flicker with a transparent white, his soul burning.
"Ri, you go to the dwarf battlefield. I'll be there in a bit…"
Ri's delicate brows arched. She could feel Dyon's soul resonating with something. No, was it resonating? It was as though it was reverberating with a commanding tone, barking out orders that were only to be followed and not questioned.
The skies trembled. It felt for a moment that the Ancient Battlefield really might collapse.
It was only now that the warriors below suddenly realized that someone had quietly appeared above their heads without them even knowing. Just how could something like this happen?
"EMPEROR!"
The roar of the Mortal Empire warriors shook the battlefield. Their morale skyrocketed, an unknown strength filling their limbs.
Dyon grinned. For a moment, he looked no different from an awakened Demon.
"Obey."
Under Dyon's words, the skies stilled. The winds ceased to move, the leaves ceased to rustle, even the armies below seemed to stop completely.
Dyon slowly brandished his scythe, its black fog billowing from its body. Every so often, its blade edge would peek out under Dyon's movement, catching a glint of the red sun and shimmering with a light that could blind one's gaze.
"Die."
Dyon's movement finished. His arm arched in an elegant half moon, a bridge of black following his actions to perfection.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The weighted rock on the chests of the opposing armies were almost lowered completely. But that was when the devastation began.
A scream that chilled the bones and curdled the blood sounded. A frontline soldier looked down at his body in horror.
He was a member of the Orc Clan. His skin was as black as the night and his body was riddled by scars, even his teeth dripped with the blood of his enemies. He was the kind of creature that wouldn't blink even if his own bones poked through his skin, yet he was screaming and shedding tears like a newborn. The sight was completely ghastly.
A moment later, everyone understood why.
His skin began to rot and deconstruct. Boils erupted and popped all over, ejecting vomit-inducing greenish-yellow liquids with a smell that was even a level worse than its appearance.
Then, he turned completely to ash.
The battlefield was frozen. Unfortunately for the enemy, this frozen state didn't last long.
A second, then a third, then tenth and hundredth warrior erupted into a fit of screams.
A death fueled wave radiated outward. At first, it seemed that only one or two would be affected at once, but it very quickly came in swaths of hundreds then even thousands.
Countless warriors fell one after another as Dyon looked on coldly from the skies.
A single strike had wiped out over half the opposing army.
No one knew who started it, but a wild cheer erupted on the Mortal Empire side. A fanatic air the likes of which the Failed Clans had never seen overwhelmed the oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield and even drowned out the countless screams.
Chants of 'Long Live' and 'Emperor' rang the truest. In an almost trance-like state, Dyon's people all but dropped to their knees to worship him.
It was only now Dyon realized just what kind of level he had reached. This fanaticism was bred from nothing. It was an innate reverence felt toward those who touched upon a truth few could.
After Dyon snatched the fundamental runes from that blue sun world, he could now use Death's Scythe as he pleased. This rose his battle prowess to a level beyond reason. At the same time, since he was relying on another world's fundamental runes to produce such a result, the Heavens of his world couldn't properly calculate his strength and as such didn't register that he had gone beyond the limit of the mortal plane.
Of course, such strength could only be used in a limited range. The reason only a few were affected at once in the beginning was because Dyon had to manually control the range of influence of the blue sun world's fundamental runes.
The further from himself they were, the weaker they became and the more difficult they were to sustain. At the same time, if he met an opponent who could mobilize the laws of this world to an adequate enough level, maybe a level even beyond his own, they would be able to suppress the far weaker fundamental runes of the blue sun world.
Dyon didn't believe that even three facet Overlords could suppress his runes.
'This is the path.' Dyon's gaze blazed. 'I'll name you… Reaper!'
