When The Cute Godkiller Opens A Tavern [Stubbed]

Chapter 113 - Standoff

”Beyond ancient it may be, but that’s not always a cause for the people of today to not understand it. It’s usually the other way around…” ~Shallies Mythernal, the Godkiller

Yoshelle was at a loss for words.

That was something which, she noticed, had been happening unbelievably frequently today. After scolding herself for not realizing Shallies’ true identity, and then convincing herself that it had something to do with whatever veil the Godkiller had been using to hide, the Guild Princess decided to just silently watch.

It was a rare opportunity after all.

She had questions, sure, quite an annoying amount of them, if she was being honest. But she calmly pushed them all to the back of her head. They could wait. The spectacle before her couldn’t.

The only issue was trying to rationalize that with her mind.

Valor’el had warned her about it. She was being forced to make an effort to keep her sanity. And even with that warning, staring at a divinity of Shallies’ caliber made her feel like melting. It was something new, when in the presence of their patron god, Syakumishi, Yoshelle was able to keep her wits about her.

There was an overwhelming sense of relief, a smothering embrace, and, while she knew it wasn’t real, a desire to slumber for all eternity.

There was also trying to comprehend the amount of power surging from both Shallies and Daryl’kan. Comparing either was next to impossible for Yoshelle, who had no understanding or manner to measure what she was witnessing. She recognized well enough that both were beyond her league. At the very least, that wasn’t one of her concerns. But much like everything else, she was too awestruck to formulate any articulate words to describe the sight.

Yoshelle knew to simply watch. There was nothing under her control now, not even her own ability to survive this encounter. The burden of that was now Shallies’ to bear. Even Valor’el and Arun’dul looked to have resigned themselves to the same conclusion. All the tension around their body was gone, only letting their mana-flow surround them naturally. Like they were simply taking a stroll, and had happened to pass by a storm.

“Aren’t we a little too close?” she asked, trying to see if she could stir them out of their stupor.

Valor’el seemed to snap out of it, at least. He quickly brought Yoshelle and Arun’dul away from the center of the arena, but they didn’t get far.

“Thanks.” At last, the Guild Princess sighed and relaxed, sitting down as she leaned back on the wall of the Boss Lair.

The two followed suit, breathing out as if they had no more to give.

“You’re not going to use any of your World Hero skills?” Yoshelle asked sarcastically.

That got a smirk out of Valor’el. “What you’re about to witness, Yoshelle, is something way beyond what the word ‘ancient’ can define. It’s something before the System, before there were any classes or spells or skills. You’re not going to understand any of it, but you’ll see how powerful they are.”

“A time before the System…” Yoshelle repeated.

“Can you imagine it?” Valor’el asked. “Do you understand the implications of that?”

The question was too distracting. What Yoshelle wanted to focus on right now was the sight before her, not history lessons from a forgotten ancient past. She simply shook her head, and the seraph seemed to have gotten the idea.

“There’ll be time for a discussion about that later, I guess…” he said, turning back to Shallies and Daryl’kan.

The two were done releasing their mana.

The air around the nephilim was heavy. Lightning strikes erupted all around him, creating chaos and thunder. On the other hand, the atmosphere around Shallies was calm, with just the slight haze in the air which begged to say otherwise.

The Godkiller was wearing a completely different set of equipment, Yoshelle realized. Rather than a Manaweave Coat, Shallies now wore a white tunic with flowing strands of translucent red mana transitioning into her long skirt. A blood-red scarf wrapped around her neck, extending and billowing like a cape on her back.

Small crystalline rocks glowed in different colors as they circled around her left wrist like a rotating bracelet, while her right hand held a staff that was at least three heads taller than her.

Controlled power emanated from the staff. It was made from a golden piece of wood that Yoshelle couldn’t recognize. Much like the crystals on Shallies’ wrist, there were also various gemstones orbiting around the shaft, moving in such a way that they avoided the Godkiller’s arm even as it moved. The base was wrapped in flowing mana, lingering on the cloudy floor, occasionally creating sparks that traveled in and out of the staff.

The top was pure light of prismatic colors, and was… difficult to look at, as far as Yoshelle was concerned. It wasn’t blinding, but her instincts were forcing her to avert her gaze. She could make out some sort of malformed or broken crystal, but that was about it.

For the first time since meeting her, Yoshelle thought Shallies looked like an actual high-level adventurer.

“What do you think?” Valor’el asked.

“Pretty,” Yoshelle admitted. “I honestly expected her gear to be more world-bending, or Mythical rarity, but I’m guessing those are Legendary rarity equipment at most.”

“Correct,” the seraph replied. “Even if Shallies would usually spare no effort when tackling a task, it would be unlike her to bring out equipment made for killing gods against someone of Daryl’kan’s caliber. However, that wasn’t actually my question.”

Yoshelle afforded to turn her head, frowning at the seraph. “What do you mean?”

“Who do you think will win?”

Her frown went deeper. The answer was already painfully obvious. “It’s Shallies, of course. Right?”

Valor’el only smiled. “You do look up to her, alright.”

“Am I wrong?” Yoshelle asked, feeling like she was being toyed upon. “Does Daryl’kan have a chance?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Valor’el confirmed. “Lady Shallies is the Godkiller after all. The struggle here is that she kills gods, first and foremost.”

The Guild Princess blinked as the implications clicked in her head. “She doesn’t want to kill Daryl’kan? But what about her threats earlier?”

“Not because she doesn’t want to, but because Daryl’kan isn’t the end goal. The threats were there to get in his head.”

“Ah, I see. So that’s the problem.”

“Correct, but I honestly don’t think it’s that much of a problem.” Valor’el nodded. “However, which do you think is more difficult: killing someone powerful, or subduing them to the point that they can no longer resist capture?”

---

Shallies breathed out and relaxed. It had been some time since she had worn multiple Legendary tier equipment. The one time she had done so was when she had revealed her true identity to Grace, holding the staff. She had stopped using the rest even before making the Adventurer’s Beginning her new home.

None of them were sentient, but the burden that each of these pieces of equipment placed on her were heavy yet familiar. She had tamed them a long time ago, so there weren’t any complications to factor into the equation, and her will was strong enough to carry the pressure.

Still, she spared a few seconds getting used to the weight, allowing her mana to combine with each one. They resonated, letting their enchantments and enhancements activate, powerful enough to bend space ever so slightly.

Above her, lightning crashed and roared. Daryl’kan was also at the end of his transformation, easing into his new form.

His armor, Shallies clearly remembered, was made from the remains of an ancient falcanstorm. An extinct, mythical creature.

Simply put, it was a falcon made out of a lightning storm that could encompass entire cities. Most were benevolent, appearing as calm rains during the planting seasons, before disappearing into the isolated seas when it was time for them to molt into storms.

Daryl’kan’s armor was from a malevolent deviant. One that had terrorized his hometown year after year, devastating their harvest. But for all the good that came out of him killing the falcanstorm, he was simply shunned and exiled by his people.

The usual, typical nephilim story…

He had carried the armor since, as a sign of his overwhelming, independent victory, and a reminder that the world had rejected him. Even as the gods had favored the man, his perspective hadn’t changed.

Parts were shrunk and repurposed in order to protect him. The beak adorned his helm, the wings his spaulders, the tail his cape, the claws his boots. Feathers that spontaneously broke into sparks of lightning furnished the rest of his armor.

Then there was his spear.

A falcanstorm’s heart was one of the primary reasons why they had gone extinct today. A material called Malleable Lightning. Grandmaster Blacksmiths had willingly, and literally, given a part of their soul to forge something out of such coveted material. Some would even say that to create something out of pure lightning mana, something that could influence reality, would be their magnum opus.

Shallies didn’t bother putting aside her reminiscing as Daryl’kan disappeared from the skies. With a soft flick of her staff, she redirected the spear’s direction. Both weapons didn’t even connect. She simply guided the mana out of the way, and the nephilim’s momentum did the rest.

“Mana-control’s never been your strong suit, Daryl,” she said. “There’s no way you can hit me if you’re just brute forcing such heavy mana towards me.”

Irate, Daryl’kan’s mana surged, causing lightning strikes all around. As loud as they were, they didn’t even make Shallies flinch. None of them hit her, nor her comrades.

“Who are you!?” the nephilim asked, finally showing cracks in his facade. “How do you know so much?”

“You’re not the one asking questions here,” she replied. Shallies focused her Stellar mana, coalescing it within a single point at the tip of her Legendary Magnanimous Omni-Staff of Destruction of Glorious Invocation +12. It was only a small point, no larger than a fingertip, but its density alone had created such pressure that reality itself couldn’t help but bend into it.

There was no spell involved, no System involved.

Just pure mana-control. Like the old days.

“Back during your time, a lot of people claimed to be a Godkiller,” she started. “But this should help you recognize truth from fiction, no?”

Daryl’kan stood in place as the lightning strikes dispersed. The look of shock on his face told millions of stories and horrors from a time only few could remember.

“That’s a God’s Vanquisher,” he said, naming the mana-control technique. Indeed, even before the System, various things had been given names. And this had one well-known by all to be truly devastating.

“Well, then, since you recognize this technique, I’m pretty sure you know what happens next.”

It had nothing to do with capability. It was all etiquette. Once a God’s Vanquisher was formed, it must never be dispelled by its own creator. The only next step would be to unleash it upon the target.

Desperate, the nephilim did what a desperate man would obviously do. Take hostages. Using his lightning speed, he positioned himself between Shallies and her comrades.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged. “The backlash from fizzling that spell alone would kill you, but you wouldn’t dare sacrifice your friends.”

Shallies smirked, unfazed. “You think you’re faster than myVanquisher?”

Without waiting for him to reply, the Godkiller unleashed her technique.