The Demon Against The Heavens - 203 An Unparalleled Experience

Helial’s demonic appearance left Medusa speechless. The boy’s pitch black eyes seemed to have brought hell’s last will to earth.

Curse of the Demon’s edge contained several layers of compressed flames, which exploded in a cascade of sparks as it clashed with the Chakrams.

In ground beneath the feet of the two several cracks spread out, threatening to make them sink.

Medusa felt a tyrannical force push her away effortlessly, and that force came from behind the Great sword, dangerously close to her nose. Was it possible that the King’s filthy disciple could possess so much strength? Still, Medusa clearly perceived that he had not passed the Late Stage of the First Phase! Could she be wrong?

As Medusa wondered, Helial continued to move his body’s centre of gravity and move his legs quickly, tilting Curse of the Demon at best angle to counter the woman’s attack.

Art of the Sword was now in the Master rank and Helial’s knowledge of the Way of Sword had reached a much higher level than anyone could have imagined.

Fighting alongside Crater, Efeistio, Alexander and all the other Madoni generals had made him develop his skills tremendously. Therefore, even if Medusa was two Phases above him and was much stronger, the great promise of the Sect of the Worthy could never have achieved the experience Helial possessed.

A dark foreboding enveloped Medusa’s mind as she crossed arms with her opponent. What was that horrible feeling…? She had to get rid of it right away, before it could affect her performance.

PUCHI!

The stadium fell into absolute silence.

Medusa looked around. Everyone was silent and she could no longer breathe.

She felt a warm, thick liquid flooding her neck and drenching her clothes.

Plop Plop

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The sand in the arena began to run bright red between Medusa’s feet, while her incredulous eyes, fixed first on Helial, slowly moved downwards. No matter how hard she tried, Medusa was unable to bend her head; there was something that prevented her from moving it.

A proud and solemn expression was on Helial’s face. “Did you really think we were going to have a one-on-one fight and that I was stupid enough to put the lives of all my comrades at risk?” said the boy.

With a superhuman effort, Medusa’s gaze finally rested on the object that had caused everyone’s dismay.

An arrow.

An arrow had penetrated her throat.

Medusa raised a hand and touched her throat at the exact point where the tip of the arrow had pierced it. A desperate expression made its way across her face.

There was no trace of the always proud and full of herself Medusa in her now arched eyebrows and in her lips folded down. There was nothing left but a small woman begging Helial with her eyes. Any attempt to speak was impossible. Her trachea had been pierced by Vlad’s arrow.

Caliban opened his eyes and mouth wide, shocked.

“He is no longer a boy,” said Pseudonym.

“He took advantage of every opportunity he could in the clash. Unlike you, instead of using supreme power, he maximized gains and minimized losses. This is a real genius,” laughed Circe.

“Do you believe that such a strategy would work against me?” said Pseudonym sarcastically.

Circe shook her head and didn’t answer.

Caliban, deeply incredulous, could not understand how those two geniuses, sitting next to him, could talk so calmly about what had just happened. A real tragedy was unfolding before their eyes.

And in fact, in the grandstand, the big shots had been taken by the same feeling of terrified surprise that Caliban felt.

Cesar had stood up. His blood seemed to be aflame, in front of his disciple’s genius.

Aure was still holding a glass of wine mid-air, unable to discern what sensations filled his chest.

Big and Guiccia, in respectful silence, were already thinking about their respective bets.

Nelia and Roxy exchanged knowing looks, visibly worried.

What would Helial do now?

Medusa fell to her knees, almost dead.

If Iblis’ young disciple wanted to finish her, he would have to prepare for terrible consequences.

It was true, it was a fight to the death and none of them should have been surprised at how things were going. In spite of this, whoever was witnessing that clash found himself asking himself a question he never imagined he would have to ask: would the Sect of the Worthy really let the one who killed their most important direct descendant walk away with impunity?

Auras had not hidden the fact that he had repeatedly thought of giving Medusa control of the Sect of the Worthy, rather than his son Comodo. If Helial had killed her now, how would Orma’s second greatest warrior react?

Was the little human, who had barely passed the age of fifteen, really ready to bear on his shoulders the weight of what he was about to do?

“Whatever happens today, it will be a turning point for Orma. The time for peace is over,” said Pseudonym, exchanging a glance with Circe from inside his pitch-black armour.

Helial condensed a sphere of white flames, with several black sparks inside them, on the palm of his hand, before looking Circe in the eyes and wiping a trickle of blood from the corners of her mouth.

“Do you want to go like a real warrior, or do you want to beg?” said Helial with a sardonic smile on his face.

The audience trembled at Helial’s words.

“DO NOT MOVE ANOTHER INCH!” a man shouted from the Sect’s tribune, anger impossible to hide in his voice. Comodo, who until then had held back all his anger, could no longer remain silent and watch, while the most talented member of his Sect was brutally killed.

Helial glanced in that direction, then shrugged and looked back at Medusa.

“Snowflake, Lumia, Vlad, Frankenstein, Lulu, there is no longer any need to deal with those two remaining clowns. Spare them, we’ve already won,” he said calmly.

Atlanta and Margherita were bleeding from a myriad of wounds and were now unrecognizable.

Comodo nodded in front of Helial’s actions. His previous cry had evidently reminded the boy to leave some way out even for the Sect of the Worthy. If he had really killed Medusa, he could hardly have faced the consequences.

“After all, after killing the filthy bitch who also threatened my sister, there will be no fun in finishing those other two,” each word marked by Helial like the ringing of a bell. “If you are not satisfied, Comodo, in a year’s time you can challenge me exactly as your cousin did. If the Sect of the Optimal wants to eliminate all the waste it has, I can only step forward to help them on this mission.”

Auras shivered slightly and, just as he was about to move, Cesar put a hand on his shoulder.

“Brother, if you dare break the rules governing Orma’s fights, left us as a gift from our ancestors, I swear on them that you and your Sect of the Worthy will not see tomorrow’s light.” Cesar’s words were pronounced with an exemplary calm, but with such coldness that the temperature of the grandstand where all the big pieces were located dropped significantly.

If it was true that Cesar had become much more permissive towards mocking from others in recent years, having governed for so long and brought Orma to prosper, his authority nonetheless would remain forever unchallenged.

Cesar had overthrown the Senate and created the monarchy in one day. He had conquered peoples who had threatened Orma for millennia, embodied all the customs of its ancestors and led the city-state to a new era of abundance and power.

Aure was powerful, but it wasn’t even remotely comparable to Cesar. Despite being both Immortals, the difference between them was what could be found between heaven and earth.

After hearing those words, Aure seemed to see before him the old Cesar, the one who had conquered Orma with his charisma and his unquestionable military value.

Raising his hands from the armrests of the chair, Aure remained seated.

Helial hurled the sphere of Mana he had created against Medusa, which burned in seconds, screaming horribly and under everyone’s incredulous gaze, first of all Comodo.

There was nothing left of Medusa but a mound of ash, which became smaller with each passing second; the wind carried away what had been the body of the heir to the Sect of the Worthy.

The arrow that had pierced Medusa’s neck fell on the sand, with a dull sound.

Helial stood motionless, brandishing Curse of the Demon, with his worn cloak moving in the wind, and the rusty crown firmly on his head. Like a lonely king, forgotten by everyone, but who still retained the honour and pride of an ancient ruler.