Enter Me! The Skillionaire Says In Parentheses - Chapter 219

With a terrifying screech, the harpy of death lunged to the bottom as it started to carefully massacre any kind of living being on their sight. MF had just granted a strong firepower but they didn’t immediately use it. Instead, they toyed with the corpses of their victims while emotionally manipulating those who were hesitant to suppress these creepy beasts.

“W-what is this thing!?”

“Shit! Physical attack didn’t work!”

“Elemental attack didn’t work either! How the hell do we beat this thing—urgh!!?”

“Heaven is upon us… Only salvation awaits me…”

Survival count: 7,718

Even those Alcazar Establishment Usurpers who remained untouched by the madness couldn’t deal any damage to the death harpy. As the monster toyed with their lives, it immediately delivered an instant death the moment they started to lament their life.

“Ah~ such a beautiful screech, a music that’s everlasting in this moment of despair.” An ecstatic face took over her demeanor, letting her fully indulging in this wretched debauchery. “Because they played the songs of prayers for their master, I shall call them the Harp! My instrument of destruction~!”

Because MF had acquired the schematic from her experiment, she immediately constructed more Harps to her bidding. With the overwhelming income of her streamline of faith, she had no problem in creating at least ten of them in a few minutes.

All of them immediately rushed into the Citadel as a reinforcement for the orchestra of madness.

Some of them had a unique purpose. Two of them had an extra pair of wings for more agility to give the illusion of deadly haste. Three of them grew a pair of extra arms below their winged limbs, holding a scale and a giant sword made out of their own flesh and soul, intimidating all of those who saw them as they slowly walked towards their death, shrugging all of the damage before presenting its victims with the scale of their sin before giving an appropriate punishment.

The rest five of the Harps had their clock heads replaced with a silver helmet that resembled a plague mask. Long and menacing white hair sprouted until it met the ground. Each of them carried a scythe as they flew towards the enemies.

Of course, the Dark Angel wasn’t fully pleased with only letting her precious puppets play on the grass without joining them as one. MF was definitely embracing the bloodlust as there won’t be any demerit in not doing so.

This kind of sudden desire always comes in huge waves. If she didn’t do her best to sate it, it would be too late in the end.

Her halo was neither red nor white. It was black.

The eleventh Harps wreaked havoc, together with a couple of Boogeys. Those who saw the grinning Dark Angel were either petrified and passed out from the killing intent, nor they had the determination and bore an ill intent to attack, only for the protection of the Tribunal Blight to seep into their soul and explode their whole body like a balloon.

For those who stayed still and did nothing would get their whole body ripped apart by the Dark Angel by her bare hands. The silver scales made them wondered on what kind of monster that had the appearance of mixed terror. Before they could comprehend what they were actually seeing, the sharp stinger of MF’s tail impaled them and let their eyes see her malicious grin even more clearly.

Survival count: 5,165

The leaving soul of death began to increase in numbers exponentially. Aside from all of the terror that she inflicted, she haven’t actually met a single head that was able to perceive her without dying in halfway doing it.

Until she met with a single tall man within a suit, donning a full plated helmet of cheap bronze. There was a glowing red eye under the bars of the helmet. The man casually walked forward as he dragged a miniature monolith the size of a carriage with a handle that he gripped.

“Ah, someone is finally capable of approaching me.”

“I can’t find out what the hell are you without going any closer.”

MF noticed a black liquid smeared on his monolith sword. Apparently, it was coming from one of her Harps. The bloodlust made her uncaring but she was curious. She then immediately focused her perception to the range of the Citadel and noticed her first Harp had one of its wings torn off from its limb. As of now, the wounded Harp was still in rampage like usual as it tried to stay away from the vicinity of the monolith man.

The Harp was also in the process of regenerating but it seemed like the damage was followed with a curse that halted the healing.

“Ohoho, interesting~” MF licked her lips.

The man in the suit bore no ill intent at all, as if his true survivability came from his overwhelming curiosity that negated all kinds of intent that he emitted.

The man leaped forward, hurling his monolith straight into a Pseudo-Angel. In mid air, hundreds of formations were cast simultaneously from the geometric veins of the large slab of conductor steel. There was a complete set of spells that were cast by him. Starting from the offensive one like increasing propelling force, heightening velocity, heightening contact damage, increasing kinetic force, adding fire elemental, adding electrical discharge.

And then the defensive one such as multi-layered barrier, elemental deterrent, physical force deterrent, and all kinds of things that ensured his opponent to feel hopeless from all of the enhancement. There were even multiple spells that focused on debuffing the Pseudo-Angel. There was a speed decreasing spell, illusion spell, mental eruption spell. Although most of them barely do anything to a divine vessel, it still showed the capability of this person in just a single strike.

MF dodged the smash, the extreme pulsating shockwave was concentrated into a small area around both of them, being bounced back and forth while shredding everything within the death zone. All kinds of elemental turbulence were discharged and they weren’t kidding with their destructive power either.

‘That attack, it could actually be on par with Damascus if she is lazy.’

The stinger tail of the Pseudo-Angel was hurled. Before it could impale the man in the suit, he then went full throttle on swinging the heavy monolith with the same setup of destructive spell and slapped the incoming stinger out of his face.

MF then noticed that a dense barrier with huge concealment formation was sealing her together with him in an invisible dome. It seemed like this man knew that an Angel could throw a civilization-ending power at any second and he wanted to fully fight her at short range. There were also a lot of killing formations that were set to kill pretty much anything but an Angel. Most of the time, it might only stagger or made the Dark Angel’s flinch.

Attacks were exchanged, and none of them made it through one another. Not to mention, it seemed like none of them was fighting with their full power.

“Mortal, give me your name!”

“My name is Ollen, your honor!” The man cast a temporary replicating spell and created a purple phantom of his monolith sword to his other hand. “I’m an Angel Slayer of my role’s namesake. It’s the first time for me to see such a horrendous shape of a two winged Angel’s First Form. Especially with the black and white.”

The devilish grin on MF stretched even wider. “What if I’m not an Angel?”

Intrigued by the course of the event, MF did the same process with her as if she was creating the Harp, but instead of making it a sentient full form of its unique or normal appearance, the Harp was reshaped into a black spear with numerous eyes.

They slashed and smashed one and another. The strike and the destructive wind of the catastrophic result from their attack’s shockwave was nullified by the invisible barrier. Elemental attack after soul attack made by the killing formation was absolutely nullified by the sheer density of her strong consciousness and physical defense of her heavenly body.

As the fight went on inside the little dot in the Rogue Citadel, life had been decimated at the speed faster than a cowardly slim mouse.

Survivor count: 3,187

The terror went on and on. Most of the Official were either had committed suicide or died protecting the important resources and goods that they smuggled.

Survivor count: 1,486

The massacre then lasted for another hour, by then, only a few survivors had stood with their head intact, either hiding or under something to shift the terrifying Harps away from their location.

Survivor count: 681

Survivor count: 171

Survivor count: 48

Survivor count: 17

Survivor count: 1

As the sun began to rise up, its first rays of the day were landed upon the relentless individual who managed to keep the Angel at bay. Extremely exhausted, and possibly almost ran out of mana.

The glowing red light was dimming inside his chipped bronze helmet. Until it cracked and revealed a normal human beneath.

One of the ancient humans that survived in Neamh. He fought without having the strength of a Ferrowl, the perception and agility of a Feline, the survivability of a Tanomobi, the mana conductivity of an Aekha, the wit and innate intelligence of a Ferrakhian, the pride of an Aiseirighian, and lastly the will of a Demon.

Standing in front of the Great Calamity, Ollen looked nonchalant about his situation. His unimpressive short black hair was caressed slowly by the wind.. His eyes, meanwhile, looked focused and ready.