Lord of the Truth

1087  Blood -2

BAM!

Holak unleashed another strike toward the purple slime, causing it to explode once again.

Siiiik!

This time, the mass of slime reassembled at an incredible speed. Before Holak could ready another punch, it took the shape of Pythor's head.

"You're only delaying your death!"

"Shut up!!"

Holak roared, launching another punch.

BANG!

The very fabric of space shattered before his elbow strike, and the force of the wind surged forward to obliterate everything in its path. Pythor's head was instantly erased, and the purple mist scattered through the air.

The city's ground was now unrecognizable. No buildings, no streets— not even a single stone remained standing. Everything around Pythor had eroded and vanished. Even the ground beneath the slime forming his body was dissolving, sinking further.

Siiik!

Pythor reassembled his face and part of his body even faster this time.

"Haha! Come on! Strike harder! Faster!"

He was truly enjoying this state. He had experienced it once when he acquired it from Rocky, but only for a short time—and he had never fought a life-or-death battle with it.

The thrill of having an indestructible body was exhilarating. And what made it even better? He was mastering it more and more the longer he fought against Holak!

"Damn it..!!"

Holak's hand trembled slightly this time, his reaction slowed by mere fractions of a second. But in the end, he launched another attack, "AAHHH!!!"

His body was already in shambles. The very arm he was fighting with was mangled, full of missing bone and muscle.

In his current state, he should be in a field hospital, receiving treatment. Perhaps even asking Richard for help.

Yet here he was, unleashing everything he had, left and right— more than he ever had before.

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Clatter! Clatter!

After Sakaar's booming war cry, every soldier of the True Beginning Empire felt life surging back into their bodies.

Not because reaching the Supreme General Sakaar would make them safer— nothing like that.

But because they had a new order. Any order —anything— that would pull them out of the hell they were trapped in.

Even if rushing to Sakaar's side meant certain death, it was still better than waiting in place for the inevitable!

But… how?

The battlefield was in its worst possible state. The air itself was unbreathable.

How could they retreat?!

"...OOOHHHAAHH!!!"

At that moment, Amon raised his massive hands, clenched his fists, and let out a devastating roar, pouring all his strength into it.

The roar alone was enough to send countless clinging enemies plummeting from his body.

Then, the number of blood auras around him multiplied, launching a relentless assault on the soldiers of the Great Serpent Empire.

Amon's towering height began shrinking rapidly.

In the blink of an eye, he had shrunk to just 180 meters, and he continued to diminish.

But his sacrifice of so much blood was met with the slaughter of thousands of enemies and the fall of tens of thousands from his body.

Then—

BAM! BAM!

Finally, feeling lighter at last, Amon began moving forward, ignoring the pain.

This time, his steps were faster.

This time he didn't intend to destroy formation and assist in winning the battle, he just wanted to move next to supreme generals Sakaar as commanded, so he just kept on walking casually with his reduced wight!

"Kill the---!!"

BAAAM

The army of the Great Serpent Empire threw everything they had at Amon, trying desperately to stop him.

But they failed.

His massive strides tore through their formations, creating gaps in their ranks, crushing hundreds with every step. Their attacks slashed deep into his colossal body, carving gashes in his flesh— but it wasn't enough to stop the titan.

Even when he is nearly half his original body, Amon is still a callosal titan!

"Follow the king!!"

At last, the remaining demon forces saw a glimmer of hope. With renewed determination, they pushed forward, cutting down any straggling soldiers of the Great Serpent Empire that Amon left in his wake.

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Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, where the instant space portals still poured out waves upon waves of demons and locals, the newcomers rallied together.

Their new focus?

To carve a path through the chaos—one that would lead them to Supreme General Sakaar.

The newcomers who just got out and saw the hell break around them didn't understand anything, they just followed those who came in early with blind trust in their comrades.

Among them, the locals were the most fiercely determined.

They weren't here for food and orders like the demons, they are fighting for a cause.

After enduring countless hardships, they had finally found something meaningful—something they could fight for.

--------------

Caesar took a quick glance over his shoulder, his gaze sharp and calculating.

Then, he nodded firmly.

"Good!"

His position had been tied entirely to defending Amon and the demon army.

But now —now that they were advancing— he was free.

No longer trapped. No longer forced to hold the line.

With that, Caesar and the 150 martial emperors in front of him all surged forward, racing toward Amon and the infantry at incredible speed.

They were trying to get to Amon and the Demon Army and eradicate them all, while Caesar was trying to stall them with black flame attacks WHILE racing them and trying to stay ahead.

He was still trying to survive this madness, but trying to stop them at the same time as he was doing so, which painted a scene of pure epic struggle.

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"Stop them!!"

The Imperial Guards and the generals assigned to fight the soul creatures immediately noticed the incoming charge.

And, of course, they had heard Sakaar's command— protect the lord.

The first thought that flashed in their minds?

They could not allow these forces to reach His Majesty— Pythor.

But—

BAAAM!!

Marshal Lonta slammed his palm into one of them, sending him flying through the air.

Then, without hesitation, Marshal Lonta charged forward, clearing the way for Amon.

The rest of the soul creatures followed right behind him.

Their arrival signaled something devastating—

Yet another battlefield had been dragged into the ever-expanding maelstrom of destruction.

Amon's mere presence distorted the battlefield.

Every step he took reshaped the course of the war.

The battles across Hope City and its outskirts had all begun to revolve around him.

--------------------------

Only one battlefield remained completely stagnant, unable to move towards the city and unable to make their enemies stay.

"Damn it!!"

One of the Warlords cursed, his voice thick with regret.

From his vantage point, he could see the enemy slowly closing in on the lord.

He desperately wanted to intervene— to make a difference.

But he couldn't.

His own arm was gone, only this fact means that he lost a lot of his power, lost countless sages and saints under his command.

His armor was shattered beyond repair.

And yet, despite all this—he still found himself more concerned about the battle raging within the city than his own survival.

Their battlefield was a separate war altogether.

Hundreds of Great Serpent Emperors clashed against less than 200 Demon Emperors and the remaining Warlords— who had now been reduced to just four.

They were too far from the city.

Their numbers were catastrophically low compared to their enemies.

Even if they wanted to follow Supreme General Sakaar's orders, they couldn't.

They were trapped.

They wouldn't even last five more minutes before whatever formations they had to break and this battle turned to massacre, in 15 minutes at best they would be completely annihilated.

BZZZT! BZZZT!

At that moment—

Dozens of portals ripped open across the battlefield of the emperors.

And from their depths, a figure emerged. @@novelbin@@

It was the Second-in-Command of the Shadow Swords—Charles Burton.

His twin daggers gleamed, and in his eyes—murderous intent burned like a raging inferno.

And he wasn't alone.

Out of the other portals, they came—

Dozens… hundreds… no—thousands of Shadow Swords of varying levels.

These were the hidden elites—the branch of the Shadow Sword Organization that had manipulated Planet Nihari from the shadows, pulling the strings behind the scenes for the past twenty years.

And now— every single one of them had arrived.

Among them, there didn't appear to be more than twenty Martial Emperor-level Shadow Swords.

And yet—

Charles raised one of his daggers, pointing it directly at the Great Serpent Emperors.

His voice rang out— cold, commanding, merciless.

"Slaughter them all!!"