Chapter 2369: 2369
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"Obey."
Under Dyon's words, the skies stilled. The winds ceased to move, the leaves ceased to rustle, even the armies below seemed to stop completely.
Dyon slowly brandished his scythe, its black fog billowing from its body. Every so often, its blade edge would peek out under Dyon's movement, catching a glint of the red sun and shimmering with a light that could blind one's gaze.
"Die."
Dyon's movement finished. His arm arched in an elegant half moon, a bridge of black following his actions to perfection.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The weighted rock on the ċhėsts of the opposing armies were almost lowered completely. But that was when the devastation began.
A scream that chilled the bones and curdled the blood sounded. A frontline soldier looked down at his body in horror.
He was a member of the Orc Clan. His skin was as black as the night and his body was riddled by scars, even his teeth dripped with the blood of his enemies. He was the kind of creature that wouldn't blink even if his own bones poked through his skin, yet he was screaming and shedding tears like a newborn. The sight was completely ghastly.
A moment later, everyone understood why.
His skin began to rot and deconstruct. Boils erupted and popped all over, ejecting vomit-inducing greenish-yellow liquids with a smell that was even a level worse than its appearance.
Then, he turned completely to ash.
The battlefield was frozen. Unfortunately for the enemy, this frozen state didn't last long.
A second, then a third, then tenth and hundredth warrior erupted into a fit of screams.
A death fueled wave radiated outward. At first, it seemed that only one or two would be affected at once, but it very quickly came in swaths of hundreds then even thousands.
A single strike had wiped out over half the opposing army.
No one knew who started it, but a wild cheer erupted on the Mortal Empire side. A fanatic air the likes of which the Failed Clans had never seen overwhelmed the oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield and even drowned out the countless screams.
Chants of 'Long Live' and 'Emperor' rang the truest. In an almost trance-like state, Dyon's people all but dropped to their knees to worship him.
It was only now Dyon realized just what kind of level he had reached. This fanaticism was bred from nothing. It was an innate reverence felt toward those who touched upon a truth few could.
After Dyon snatched the fundamental runes from that blue sun world, he could now use Death's Scythe as he pleased. This rose his battle prowess to a level beyond reason. At the same time, since he was relying on another world's fundamental runes to produce such a result, the Heavens of his world couldn't properly calculate his strength and as such didn't register that he had gone beyond the limit of the mortal plane.
Of course, such strength could only be used in a limited range. The reason only a few were affected at once in the beginning was because Dyon had to manually control the range of influence of the blue sun world's fundamental runes.
The further from himself they were, the weaker they became and the more difficult they were to sustain. At the same time, if he met an opponent who could mobilize the laws of this world to an adequate enough level, maybe a level even beyond his own, they would be able to suppress the far weaker fundamental runes of the blue sun world.
However, under such conditions, the power of a weapon nearing the Empyrean Grade was devastating. In addition, Dyon didn't believe that even three facet Overlords could suppress his runes.
'This is the path.' Dyon's gaze blazed. 'I'll name you… Reaper!'
Death's Scythe vibrated violently. Eventually, it broke free of Dyon's hands, raising up into the skies and shaking with all its might.
Suddenly, its black fog began to form a vague image. It wasn't a person or a beast. Rather, it was simply a single pupil with irises as red and blood and whites as black as night.
A ghastly scream reverberated across the battlefield.
Swaths of enemies who met this gaze fell one after another, their souls ripped from their bodies and sacrificed to Reaper.
'Those fundamental runes are too weak for you.' Dyon thought fiercely. 'I'll snatch stronger ones for you. When those aren't strong enough, I'll snatch even more. If even those aren't enough, I'll create ones that surpass everything, that sit atop of everything!'
Reaper shook, its outer layer shedding to reveal a coating that was somehow even darker. It was a black that absorbed every bit of light that touched its surface, the kind that was indistinguishable from the dark depths of space.
The vicious red iris eye melded into its black fog, sinking into its body as a barrier was shattered.
Dyon didn't need to guess to know what happened. His Death Scythe, his Reaper, had broken through the Venerable Grade and firmly entered the Empyrean Grade.
It slowly fell from the skies, landing in Dyon's hands with a dignified air. In that moment, Dyon felt that Reaper no longer hinged its existence on just one world.
Dyon looked toward Reaper. "… It seems we can end all of this soon."
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"Obey."
Under Dyon's words, the skies stilled. The winds ceased to move, the leaves ceased to rustle, even the armies below seemed to stop completely.
Dyon slowly brandished his scythe, its black fog billowing from its body. Every so often, its blade edge would peek out under Dyon's movement, catching a glint of the red sun and shimmering with a light that could blind one's gaze.
"Die."
Dyon's movement finished. His arm arched in an elegant half moon, a bridge of black following his actions to perfection.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The weighted rock on the ċhėsts of the opposing armies were almost lowered completely. But that was when the devastation began.
A scream that chilled the bones and curdled the blood sounded. A frontline soldier looked down at his body in horror.
He was a member of the Orc Clan. His skin was as black as the night and his body was riddled by scars, even his teeth dripped with the blood of his enemies. He was the kind of creature that wouldn't blink even if his own bones poked through his skin, yet he was screaming and shedding tears like a newborn. The sight was completely ghastly.
A moment later, everyone understood why.
His skin began to rot and deconstruct. Boils erupted and popped all over, ejecting vomit-inducing greenish-yellow liquids with a smell that was even a level worse than its appearance.
Then, he turned completely to ash.
The battlefield was frozen. Unfortunately for the enemy, this frozen state didn't last long.
A second, then a third, then tenth and hundredth warrior erupted into a fit of screams.
A death fueled wave radiated outward. At first, it seemed that only one or two would be affected at once, but it very quickly came in swaths of hundreds then even thousands.
A single strike had wiped out over half the opposing army.
No one knew who started it, but a wild cheer erupted on the Mortal Empire side. A fanatic air the likes of which the Failed Clans had never seen overwhelmed the oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield and even drowned out the countless screams.
Chants of 'Long Live' and 'Emperor' rang the truest. In an almost trance-like state, Dyon's people all but dropped to their knees to worship him.
It was only now Dyon realized just what kind of level he had reached. This fanaticism was bred from nothing. It was an innate reverence felt toward those who touched upon a truth few could.
After Dyon snatched the fundamental runes from that blue sun world, he could now use Death's Scythe as he pleased. This rose his battle prowess to a level beyond reason. At the same time, since he was relying on another world's fundamental runes to produce such a result, the Heavens of his world couldn't properly calculate his strength and as such didn't register that he had gone beyond the limit of the mortal plane.
Of course, such strength could only be used in a limited range. The reason only a few were affected at once in the beginning was because Dyon had to manually control the range of influence of the blue sun world's fundamental runes.
The further from himself they were, the weaker they became and the more difficult they were to sustain. At the same time, if he met an opponent who could mobilize the laws of this world to an adequate enough level, maybe a level even beyond his own, they would be able to suppress the far weaker fundamental runes of the blue sun world.
However, under such conditions, the power of a weapon nearing the Empyrean Grade was devastating. In addition, Dyon didn't believe that even three facet Overlords could suppress his runes.
'This is the path.' Dyon's gaze blazed. 'I'll name you… Reaper!'
Death's Scythe vibrated violently. Eventually, it broke free of Dyon's hands, raising up into the skies and shaking with all its might.
Suddenly, its black fog began to form a vague image. It wasn't a person or a beast. Rather, it was simply a single pupil with irises as red and blood and whites as black as night.
A ghastly scream reverberated across the battlefield.
Swaths of enemies who met this gaze fell one after another, their souls ripped from their bodies and sacrificed to Reaper.
'Those fundamental runes are too weak for you.' Dyon thought fiercely. 'I'll snatch stronger ones for you. When those aren't strong enough, I'll snatch even more. If even those aren't enough, I'll create ones that surpass everything, that sit atop of everything!'
Reaper shook, its outer layer shedding to reveal a coating that was somehow even darker. It was a black that absorbed every bit of light that touched its surface, the kind that was indistinguishable from the dark depths of space.
The vicious red iris eye melded into its black fog, sinking into its body as a barrier was shattered.
Dyon didn't need to guess to know what happened. His Death Scythe, his Reaper, had broken through the Venerable Grade and firmly entered the Empyrean Grade.
It slowly fell from the skies, landing in Dyon's hands with a dignified air. In that moment, Dyon felt that Reaper no longer hinged its existence on just one world.
Dyon looked toward Reaper. "… It seems we can end all of this soon."
"Obey." Under Dyon's words, the skies stilled. The winds ceased to move, the leaves ceased to rustle, even the armies below seemed to stop completely. Dyon slowly brandished his scythe, its black fog billowing from its body. Every so often, its blade edge would peek out under Dyon's movement, catching a glint of the red sun and shimmering with a light that could blind one's gaze. "Die." Dyon's movement finished. His arm arched in an elegant half moon, a bridge of black following his actions to perfection. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The weighted rock on the hsts of the opposing armies were almost lowered completely. But that was when the devastation began. A scream that chilled the bones and curdled the blood sounded. A frontline soldier looked down at his body in horror. He was a member of the Orc Clan. His skin was as black as the night and his body was riddled by scars, even his teeth dripped with the blood of his enemies. He was the kind of creature that wouldn't blink even if his own bones poked through his skin, yet he was screaming and shedding tears like a newborn. The sight was completely ghastly. A moment later, everyone understood why. His skin began to rot and deconstruct. Boils erupted and popped all over, ejecting vomit-inducing greenish-yellow liquids with a smell that was even a level worse than its appearance. Then, he turned completely to ash. The battlefield was frozen. Unfortunately for the enemy, this frozen state didn't last long. A second, then a third, then tenth and hundredth warrior erupted into a fit of screams. A death fueled wave radiated outward. At first, it seemed that only one or two would be affected at once, but it very quickly came in swaths of hundreds then even thousands. A single strike had wiped out over half the opposing army. No one knew who started it, but a wild cheer erupted on the Mortal Empire side. A fanatic air the likes of which the Failed Clans had never seen overwhelmed the oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield and even drowned out the countless screams. Chants of 'Long Live' and 'Emperor' rang the truest. In an almost trance-like state, Dyon's people all but dropped to their knees to worship him. It was only now Dyon realized just what kind of level he had reached. This fanaticism was bred from nothing. It was an innate reverence felt toward those who touched upon a truth few could. After Dyon snatched the fundamental runes from that blue sun world, he could now use Death's Scythe as he pleased. This rose his battle prowess to a level beyond reason. At the same time, since he was relying on another world's fundamental runes to produce such a result, the Heavens of his world couldn't properly calculate his strength and as such didn't register that he had gone beyond the limit of the mortal plane. Of course, such strength could only be used in a limited range. The reason only a few were affected at once in the beginning was because Dyon had to manually control the range of influence of the blue sun world's fundamental runes. The further from himself they were, the weaker they became and the more difficult they were to sustain. At the same time, if he met an opponent who could mobilize the laws of this world to an adequate enough level, maybe a level even beyond his own, they would be able to suppress the far weaker fundamental runes of the blue sun world. However, under such conditions, the power of a weapon nearing the Empyrean Grade was devastating. In addition, Dyon didn't believe that even three facet Overlords could suppress his runes. 'This is the path.' Dyon's gaze blazed. 'I'll name you Reaper!' Death's Scythe vibrated violently. Eventually, it broke free of Dyon's hands, raising up into the skies and shaking with all its might. Suddenly, its black fog began to form a vague image. It wasn't a person or a beast. Rather, it was simply a single pupil with irises as red and blood and whites as black as night. A ghastly scream reverberated across the battlefield. Swaths of enemies who met this gaze fell one after another, their souls ripped from their bodies and sacrificed to Reaper. 'Those fundamental runes are too weak for you.' Dyon thought fiercely. 'I'll snatch stronger ones for you. When those aren't strong enough, I'll snatch even more. If even those aren't enough, I'll create ones that surpass everything, that sit atop of everything!' Reaper shook, its outer layer shedding to reveal a coating that was somehow even darker. It was a black that absorbed every bit of light that touched its surface, the kind that was indistinguishable from the dark depths of space. The vicious red iris eye melded into its black fog, sinking into its body as a barrier was shattered. Dyon didn't need to guess to know what happened. His Death Scythe, his Reaper, had broken through the Venerable Grade and firmly entered the Empyrean Grade. It slowly fell from the skies, landing in Dyon's hands with a dignified air. In that moment, Dyon felt that Reaper no longer hinged its existence on just one world. Dyon looked toward Reaper. " It seems we can end all of this soon."
