Chapter 438

Her severed arms. The cross-section was already filled with what could barely be called flesh, replaced instead by black ice.

She had transcended her humanity.

Yet, it seemed Ash hadn’t anticipated this extent of transformation, as her movements momentarily halted.

It was an opportunity. Aslan, who had never missed a chance in all his life, immediately swung Purity.

The shadow still lingered. As the direction of light changed to recreate shadows, the sword slashes traced Ash in a scissor-like pattern.

Kwa-gwak!

Two consecutive sword strikes in the blink of an eye.

An ancient deity’s unblockable counterattack that couldn’t be evaded.

Two devastating blows sufficient to sever Ash’s head.

The continuous attack was unleashed without even the motion of swinging, yet Aslan instantly sensed something amiss after executing the move.

Ash’s neck, which should have been severed, remained intact.

Moreover, the severed arms were also undamaged.

No, they were not only intact but reinforced.

Gleaming black ice formed their structure.

Had the cut failed?

No, it had clearly struck.

Then the deduction was simple.

Regeneration occurred at the moment of the cut.

Unable to detach, the cut area regenerated as it passed through.

A regenerative ability beyond comprehension, an advantage the previous Ash did not possess.

Considering the involvement of the Dark Ram, this shouldn’t have been surprising.

Aslan recalled Bijou, who had regenerated despite being struck by Angie’s fist like a falling star.

Ash, now a high priest of the Dark Ram, likely possessed a similar level of regenerative power.

A near-immortal existence with such regenerative capabilities.

Defensive abilities impervious to standard sword strikes, coupled with an aura rendering supporting attacks useless.

However, this wasn’t an unbeatable opponent.

Aslan exhaled deeply while gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands.

Here it comes. Ash is attacking. Instinctively sensing this, Aslan lowered his stance.

A rumbling sensation from the left signaled an incoming attack.

A crude and straightforward curved trajectory of a punch—nothing mysterious about it.

Aslan twisted his head to evade while simultaneously swinging his sword.

Ka-ga-gang!

Once again, a shadowless sword strike surged forth.

A fraction of a beat later, Ash’s punch aimed for where Aslan’s head had been, creating a piercing sound as it passed.

The punch missed, and the area struck by the sword regenerated.

Before regeneration completed, Aslan clutched Purity to press forward, while Ash clenched her fists to catch up.

Breathing became fragmented, and the world slowed down to a point where even a single breath seemed fleeting.

In this slowed world, only Aslan and Ash moved normally.

Twisting his waist, Aslan swung his sword.

Mid-swing, his motion seemed to skip, transitioning directly to the aftermath, unleashing two streams of swordlight onto Ash.

The trails of the sword vanished instantly.

Simultaneously, Ash’s leg shot out.

Aslan had long since twisted his body to dodge.

An impossible phenomenon.

Yet, Ash paid no heed, gritting her teeth and swinging her fists wildly.

A reckless barrage reminiscent of Angie.

Reading her downward strike before it happened, Aslan swung Purity once more.

Ka-ga-gak!

From below to above, completing two rounds and regaining stance, Aslan stood ready.

Ash’s punch missed, striking empty air instead.

Even so, shockwaves rippled outward, causing her aura to tremble violently.

To the soldiers, it seemed as though one exchange of attacks had merely altered their stances.

While the world slowed, they leisurely drew their bows, loaded fresh steel-tipped arrows, and reloaded their ballistae.

Only the arrows, steel-tipped arrows, and magic they launched moved faster than their masters toward Ash.

Kwa-dek!

Countless arrows and steel-tipped arrows, unable to penetrate Ash’s aura, either bent or froze solid.

When Ash moved, her aura followed, reducing countless projectiles to mere sawdust, yet Aslan casually breached it, swinging his sword.

“Ugh…!”

Soldiers on the wall instinctively covered their ears.

The intense metallic clangs, akin to sparrows flapping their wings, caused headaches among those who didn’t cover their ears in time.

At the epicenter of the clamor, Aslan and Ash danced, locked in combat.

Ash’s attacks were consistently powerful and straightforward.

Each strike sent up plumes of dirt and shockwaves.

Any entity struck would surely perish instantly from the intense impact.

In contrast, Aslan’s attacks moved at an invisible speed.

All that could be seen was white, black, and shadowless motions.

Every movement was accompanied by sound.

The sound of Ash’s body being split.

The sound of ice shattered and cleaved by a sharp edge.

Amidst it all, Aslan continued to hold Ash within reach.

From one continuous attack to another, he transitioned seamlessly between stances, maintaining proximity to Ash.

Ash herself felt growing frustration in this situation.

No matter how many attacks she launched, she sensed they wouldn’t connect.

Bang!

Swinging her leg, Aslan slipped away at the moment of impact, raising his sword upward.

A precise sword strike splitting Ash’s face and severing her leg in one simultaneous motion.

Despite the dual combination strike, Ash remained kneeling but realized she couldn’t win.

If she couldn’t win, she’d die.

And Ash didn’t want to die.

She had yearned for life, submitting to the Veil and becoming a high priest of the Dark Ram.

This time was no different. She was willing to do anything to survive.

Ka-drrr-drrr-drrr!

The chosen course was the most effective option available to her now.

If she couldn’t reach him, she’d enhance her physical abilities far beyond his capacity to respond and restrict his maneuverability.

Ash’s aura contracted, and a dark outline adhered to her skin.

A technique she had used during her days as the Veil’s herald—her ultimate secret art.

By compressing her aura into a ring, she drew out greater divine power, enhancing her physical abilities and killing with a mere brush.

With this thought, just as Ash approached—

Cha-rrr-rk.

The sound of chains came from behind.

Before she could react, the chain coiled around her arm.

Cha-rrr-rrr-rk, crack!

A chain that ignored the compressed aura surrounding her arm.

Lowering her gaze, she saw a blue gemstone-like pendant and chain glowing faintly.

Its name immediately came to mind.

Eternity’s Wedge.

The artifact of The Immovable One.

Following the chain upwards, she saw a man.

A tattoo near his temple adorned the cheerful-looking man.

Richard, the master of combat.

At the instant Ash recognized his name—

“Huff!”

The man emitted a battle cry, twisting his body, lowering his knees, and turning his wrist while pulling his arm.

What lay within was an extraordinary skill, incomprehensibly divine.

A marvel surpassing even the realm of gods, created by one genius and perfected by another.

Adaptation.

The ultimate defense reborn in Richard’s hands unfolded, and Ash found herself slammed into the ground as if pulled along.

Seizing the fallen Ash, Aslan swung his sword.

His target was her neck. Ash instinctively understood—if her head were severed and she died once, she wouldn’t remain Ash ever again.

Compulsively recalling this thought, she raised her arm.

Ka-kak!

A severed arm flew off.

Regenerating almost instantly, a new arm sprouted in its place.

Yet, the pain pierced her mind sharply.

Her mind spilled over with cosmic-colored blood, filling her mouth with a blasphemous liquid.

Ash spat it towards Aslan’s face—a calculated action knowing Aslan would dodge based on her precognition.

As Aslan turned his body to avoid, Ash desperately slashed her hand downwards into her own shoulder.

Kwa-jji-jji-jik!

The compressed aura-bound arm, tied by Adaptation and Eternity’s Wedge. There was no way to remove it, so she chopped it off entirely and regenerated it. While Richard hesitated in shock, Ash shook herself upright.

Kwa-drrr-drrk!

“Ahh…!”

Just as she rose, she stopped due to Tiamat’s arrow piercing her spine.

Her aura was broken, and a fierce impact shook her body.

Tiamat’s mastery, Mountain Crusher, shattered Ash’s aura and drove her body into the ground.

Ash’s body collided with the ground and tumbled, scattering fine dust, carving a trench as if a abyss had once existed there.

Though unbearably painful, she couldn’t afford to fall.

For the brief moment Ash lay prone, her throat would surely be throttled.

Springing up immediately, Ash saw a woman running straight towards her.

The mastermind behind this entire situation: Ereta.

A burning white flame blazed from the axe in her hand.

Grinding her teeth, Ash crossed her arms to block the axe Ereta swung.

Crack! Her arm fractured but regenerated instantly. However, Ereta anticipated this and continued her assault.

The axe handle followed the motion of Ash’s black-clothed body.

Swung upwards from below.

Blocked, Ereta crossed her hands at the waist, positioned the axe handle, and thrust diagonally downward to the left.

The axe slicing through shoulder blades and severing arms.

Suppressing the excruciating heat threatening to erupt in screams, Ash retaliated. Ereta deftly stepped back and swung her axe.

‘That’s right, it was like this.’

Ash recalled having faced a similar situation before being pursued.

Clearly, her physical capabilities had dramatically increased, yet Ereta adapted and countered even that.

An overwhelming gap in skill.

Even among veterans, Ereta was considered the least technically skilled, yet she was still a veteran.

There was an insurmountable chasm here that no novice could bridge.

‘But this time is different.’

Ash trusted her regenerative power, her sturdy body, and her overflowing strength.

Kwa-dek!

Fingers sliced off scattered like seeds into the ground as Ash reached out with her other hand to grab the axe.

Held tightly, the burning axe head screamed but Ash barely endured it.

At the moment Ereta widened her eyes in surprise, Ash pulled her fist back hard.

“Got you…”

Cha-rrr-rrr-rk!

Just before her right fist wrapped in black aura shot out, suddenly, a chain coiled around it.

Immediately losing balance.

Using the momentum to suppress it, Ereta seized the axe back and retreated.

Filling the void—

Kwa-uuu-uuu-uuu-ung!

A crimson woman soared through the air with a sonic boom, launching a front kick. Angie.

The front kick struck Ash’s abdomen.

Entirely collapsing human organs mimicked poorly, Ash was sent flying backward.

Orange cracks raced across the leg that kicked her.

There was no option to withstand the blow. Propelled by superior strength, resistance was rendered meaningless.

Ash was thrown aside, rolling along the fortress walls.

As she neared the wall, escape surfaced in her weakened mind.

She wanted to avoid pain. She wanted to live.

She didn’t want to die.

Certainly, the possibility of death here spurred her onward.

Incoming gunfire assailed her, but it served only to irritate her further.

Releasing the selectively compressed aura, all incoming gunfire targeting her rear ceased.

Projectiles barely tapping against the surface of her aura or caught in solidified space.

All she needed to do was leap. As Ash bent her legs, her body collapsed limply into the ground.

“Huh?”

Looking down, she saw her legs.

Severed legs rolling across the floor.

A long leg extending from her snow-white thigh to bare feet.

Glancing sideways, she spotted a red woman.

An elf wielding a universe-colored holy sword resembling Ash.

The master swordsman.

And behind her, the master of combat approached.

Simultaneously as Ash compressed her aura, the two swordsmen closed in on her.

“Knight Slayer.”

The incantation carved into the blade of purity burned black.

Approaching, Aslan swung his sword. Ash stomped the ground to elevate herself, and Phay leaped off the rising earth fragment, flipping mid-air and swinging her sword.

Ka-ga-kak!

Compressed aura. Even Aslan’s sword strike, capable of halving its power, was an overwhelmingly deadly force.

Penetrating through, Purity severed Ash’s wrist.

Capitalizing on the opening as Purity struck, Phay’s divine sword wielded by Unmoving One grazed Ash’s skin.

With every extended arm, Aslan’s sword strike ignored Ash’s defenses, tearing through her flesh.

Phay leaped, kicked through the air, adjusted her stance, and rained down strikes where Ash couldn’t block.

Attempting to block with her arm, it passed through, severing her shoulder.

Phay’s sword strike from behind shredded Ash’s neck.

Attempting to block with her hand, the sword tilted, severing fingers one by one.

It won’t work. She can’t defend. The disparity in skill is vast. Attempting to retreat, her head and legs are severed simultaneously.

Losing half her head and both legs.

Regeneration takes no moment, but she might die like this.

Ash’s fear led her to the answer, and she screamed in desperation.

The desperate scream explosively expanded her aura.

The effect was undeniable. The explosive expansion pushed space away, and the displaced space howled, scattering shockwaves.

Aslan stepped back, and Phay, mid-leap, kicked through the air several times to create distance.

Crackle.

Just as they retreated and Ash contemplated fleeing again, lightning coursed across the ground.

In the era of the ancient deities, this lightning symbolized punishment.

The double spear lightning wielded by Law and Order.

Kwa-rrr-rrr-rrr-rng!

Thunder followed, and twin spears pierced Ash.

Lightning driving through, erasing her aura.

Within it was Lumel, the spear master.

Clenching her teeth, Lumel plunged her spear, pinning Ash to the ground. Ash realized this was no ordinary lightning.

Even ancient deity lightning couldn’t erase her aura, yet this contained both the divinity of ancient deities and the divinity of the abyss.

If she didn’t shake it off, her aura would continue to erode.

Waving her hands, Ash dispelled the spreading lightning and swung her fist at Lumel, who had descended with the lightning.

Kwa-uuu-uuu-ung!

A sonic-booming punch.

A strike so powerful that even Lumel would surely die upon contact.

But it never connected.

Without any intention to dodge, two large arcs of lightning emerged from either side of Lumel.

Kwa-jji-jji-jik!

Lightning hurled Ash’s body. What coursed through it wasn’t divinity but mana. Ash was thrown, rolled across the ground, and finally managed to lift her head.

Her body ached. Though wounds healed from consecutive attacks, the shocks left her trembling.

From the fortress center, deep within a gouged pit, Ash lifted her head.

Only then did she fully grasp the situation.

Faces unseen before lined the fortress walls.

Various people and races gathered there.

Greenskins, humans, dragonkin.

Men and women, old and young.

Mages, soldiers, knights, warriors—countless individuals surrounded her from above.

Below the fortress walls where Ash stood, Aslan’s group was present.

Perhaps those who had cast spells at Ash starting from No. 13, to those who attacked her until now, were all there.

It reminded her of something familiar.

It brought back memories of the day her mother died and she became a high priest.

Like that day, Ash was powerless.

She realized she wasn’t a warrior.

She lacked the determination and skill to overturn this situation.

Until now, she had merely suppressed others with pure power.

When that power became ineffective, she could do nothing.

Thus, Ash understood.

What she needed wasn’t power but skill.

The human strength she had ignored for four thousand years.

“…It hurts.”

But she lacked talent.

At this stage, her talent wasn’t enough to master martial arts or skills.

Instead, she prayed.

Desperately pleading inwardly for the granting of techniques.

Was her plea insufficient, or was there another purpose?

An answer returned.

Instantly, her mind filled with certain memories and past experiences.

Slowly, Ash’s head tilted upward toward the sky.

The vision before her eyes—a world unmistakably different from this one.

The world was ablaze, and countless humans suffered.

In such a world, a man fought.

Clutching both fists, harboring resolve.

His memories—the soul of the man devoured by the Dark Ram infiltrated her body.

In Ash’s memories, the man never retreated, raising his fists against any powerful and numerous enemies.

Ash wanted to be like him.

So she mimicked him.

Rising, she adjusted her stance while enveloped in her aura.

She pulled her left leg back and extended her right leg forward.

Her right hand stretched out similarly, pointing toward her enemy.

The aimed fist. Though more delicate compared to the man in her memory, it posed no problem.

As the trembling ceased, Aslan and Richard observed her posture with bewilderment.

“That’s…!”

Richard gasped in astonishment, and Aslan gritted his teeth.

Tubul Goryu.

His martial arts were being displayed through Ash.