The Demon Against The Heavens - 215 Black flames

Immersed in a heavy silence, the Generals of Sect of the Worthy, the Clan of the Sacred Eagle and the Guild of Life and Death exchanged puzzled looks, after listening to Helial’s words.

Seeing the horrifying heads of the enemy generals was not enough for them, just as hearing the detailed report from Helial’s mouth was not enough. Occasionally, they had looked at Circe with incredulous eyes, as if asking her if everything they were hearing had really happened. The Witch had confirmed everything, leaving the Generals more and more astonished.

All the bigwigs inside the tent were now looking at Helial in a different way, as if he were a monster. There was no longer mockery in their gaze. They had just discovered that Helial hadn’t come to ask for help, but, on the contrary, that he wanted to help them.

They had learned, from the words of the Human, of the Formations that Frankenstein had set up, capable of rivalling warriors to the Sixth Phase. Besides, the young disciple of the King had already given them ideas on how to rearrange their platoon to win the next battles.

Despite his arrogance, Helial also knew he was unable perform the same miracle twice. Wiping out the joint deployment of Undead and Trolls would have been nearly impossible in just one battle.

The army that he had faced had no Troll in its ranks, because they were used to transport objects too large to enter the various Interspace Rings. A war required an incredible amount of resources and low-level warriors had to organize themselves as best as possible in order not to starve.

The Undead needed items to strengthen the new creatures summoned on the battlefield, heal the wounded and enhance their spells. The Trolls, on the other hand, ate more than Snowflake did and, luckily, there was only one Snowflake in the Goblin army. In contrast, the enemy army had tens of thousands of Trolls. The amount of rations required for them had to be unimaginable.

“We can’t give command to a child!” roared Xen towards Glaucus and Totus, the general from the Clan of the Sacred Eagle.

Glaucus and Totus spoke to each other telepathically. Since reaching the Sixth Phase, they not only managed to fly, but Divine Sense allowed them to speak without problems, shielding their conversations from prying ears.

“The old generations are continually surpassed by the young ones,” said Totus confidently. “If he succeeded in such an undertaking, why shouldn’t he lead the war?”

“None of us is fit to take control of the army completely, otherwise the other two factions would rebel, let alone if the King’s disciple took the lead. How do you think the soldiers would react, if they had to take orders from a boy?” replied Glaucus.

At that point, Totus spoke aloud: “In here, who would dare to say that he is more talented than Circe and Pseudonym?”

No one could really grasp the meaning of that question.

Helial and his companions watched, while Circe and Pseudonym, sitting on his right and left, acted as a deterrent.

“What do you mean, Totus?” asked Xen suspiciously.

“If even the descendant of the Guild of Life and Death and the Champion of the Colosseum, who are much more talented than all of us, have decided to follow the orders of the King’s disciple, why shouldn’t we do so too?” explained Toto.

“The army will not be willing to take orders from him!” growled Xen, “and neither will I!”

Helial glanced at Pseudonym.

The steel chirped, while the terrifying figure slowly raised to his feet.

Everyone looked at the man in the black steel armour in amazement. They had all seen Pseudonyms knocking out a warrior in the Fifth Phase with a punch, just minutes before, but nobody thought that he would really have the audacity to challenge a descendant of the Sect of the Worthy.

“Royal Decree: In wartime, anyone who refuses to participate in the war or disobeys orders from their superiors is punishable by death,” hummed Circe, laughing maliciously.

“I really want to see that!” roared Xen. “Arrogant bastard, let’s see what you’re capable of.”

Xen’s Aura exploded in front of everyone and they leaned back, hit by the terrifying pressure. The table, on which a map of the territory was laying, and the wooden pawns depicting the troops were instantly reduced to dust.

“Traitors must die,” Pseudonym’s hoarse voice said calmly.

In a split second, the Aura around Xen, a warrior in the Intermediate rank of the Sixth Phase, vanished. Xen was not only a genius in his generation, second only to Comodo in the Sect of the Worthy, but he was able to wipe out any common warrior at the Sixth Phase.

But Pseudonym, despite being three Phases lower than him, was too strong an opponent. Pseudonym’s Aura had just put an enormous pressure on Xen.

His armour became red-hot and was suddenly covered in black flames that seemed to have been evoked directly from the underworld. The Generals’ tent was raised in the air by the terrifying heat that was released by those flames of oblivion.

Now above them all there was only the sky.

Rising into the air, Xen showed the main characteristic of a warrior in the Sixth Phase: the ability to fly.

“Bastard, can reach me now?” laughed Xen, mocking Pseudonym, the legend, Orma’s strongest warrior.

Xen’s laughter and shouts had attracted the attention of many soldiers who, one after the other, had gathered around the clash that was about to begin. One after another, they tried to inquire about what was going on, until they learned the reason for the dispute.

Rather than being concerned about the turn the confrontation was taking, they seemed interested.

Many warriors stared at Pseudonym, with their arms crossed. Although there was a legend inside the black steel armour, most of them belonged to the previous generation; they were fierce and proud warriors.

No one would have easily bowed his head and recognized Pseudonym or the King’s disciple as the strongest in Orma.

As these thoughts took shape in the soldiers’ minds, the black flames around Pseudonym thickened on his back, slowly forming two huge black phoenix wings.

Hovering in the air, as a deity looks at his acolytes, Pseudonym looked at the camp, without even a glance at Xen.

“With what pride do you dare to mock a warrior in the Third Phase, you who are in the Sixth?” Pseudonym had always preferred silence and had preferred to avoid conflicts with the Sect of the Worthy, knowing the deep hatred they felt for Humans.

“Sixth or Third, who cares? The most important thing is power. I am stronger than you and today you will have to kneel if you want to leave here on your feet. The great Pseudonym kneeling in front of me, hahaha. I’ll tell my kids stories about this,” laughed Xen.

Holding two large black swords, one for each hand, Pseudonym continued to rise towards the sky.

“Without dignity, your power is nothing.”

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The Aura of Pseudonym reached an unprecedented peak, while his whole body looked like a comet of black flames. His swords gradually came into position, creating a pose in perfect balance with heaven and earth.

Without pronouncing another syllable, Pseudonym’s swords began to cut through the air very slowly. Despite the sluggish movement, countless residual images were created in the wake of the weapons.

It was as if Pseudonym was moving hundreds of swords in the wake of the two he wielded.

Helial’s eyes shone, while Perception allowed him to monitor the clash with ever greater clarity.

Pseudonym moved his arms and legs in rhythm and then, suddenly, there was a terrifying scream coming from the black flames that covered him. It sounded like the scream of a phoenix.

Shivering, Helial immediately realized what it was.