When The Cute Godkiller Opens A Tavern [Stubbed]

Chapter 114 - Unfazed

”Destruction without control is uncharacteristic, for a former god who specialized in being secretive.” ~Shallies Mythernal

A God’s Vanquisher was good for one thing: vanquishing. To utterly and mercilessly defeat an opponent, no matter the cost. To create a distinct difference between god and mortal.

To bring an end.

At least, that was what Valor’el thought. He realized that, even as an Acting Deity, his knowledge of such ancient techniques was akin to grains of dust in a sea of sand.

Indistinguishable from eroded history.

As one of the three people in the room who recognized at least the mana-control technique’s name, his mind raced through multiple holes and jumped through numerous hoops as the Godkiller unleashed it in their direction.

First was the most obvious one, his death. Not just the end of his, but Arun’dul and Yoshelle’s lives as well. Sacrifices weren’t a foreign concept to Valor’el, nor to the Godkiller. Even as Daryl’kan positioned himself so that the attack would take her comrades as collateral, it wouldn’t be unlike Shallies to trade their lives away should she see it as the only option.

True, it would be devastating for everyone involved, and especially for Shallies. It would be like killing herself three times over. A concept, Valor’el realized, that she might have been desensitized to by now.

The next one was a foolish thought. He entertained it regardless, since he was about to die anyway. He regretted the idea that Shallies might simply not know that they couldn’t get out of the way on time. Of course, Valor’el quickly dismissed such an irresponsible thought. Something that could reach someone as fast as Daryl’kan couldn’t possibly be slow enough for him and the others to dodge.

And so his thoughts spiraled back into the first, grim idea. He tried multiple reasons, avenues of lame excuses that might try to get them out of the situation, but he couldn’t grasp anything logical enough to hold on to. There was also the fact that Shallies’ presence had been constantly tickling with his sanity.

He could only imagine what the other two were going through, especially with the question raised towards Arun’dul.

The young seraph was lost in thought, too mesmerized by the battle in front of him. But sooner or later, he would have to decide. And as instructed, Valor’el kept his opinions to himself.

He didn’t know the correct answer, either way. To become a vessel was to be beyond one’s self. Arun’dul would become a consciousness governing two entities, and Daryl’kan would be nothing more than an afterthought.

The implications were both tremendous and horrifying. But if Valor’el would be given a choice, he would still take the chance. Which, once more, made his mind turn for a loop.

Why give the question if we’re going to die anyway?

Valor’el came to one final conclusion, regardless. He didn’t like dying for something this miniscule. All his achievements and contributions, shadowed by such a lame death as the Godkiller’s collateral.

It was shameful. He could see Shallies’ disapproving expression at the back of his mind, telling him not to give up until the end.

He had to try.

Determined not to let that the worst from happening, and with all of his willpower, the seraph unleashed everything he had to try and stop the Vanquisher. For an Acting Deity with two Favored classes, it was a hopeless endeavor, he realized.

It was then, of course, he realized that the God’s Vanquisher still hadn’t reached them. Or rather, he was still alive even as he was engulfed by the Godkiller’s Stellar mana.

Some had said it was a beam, some had said it was a frontal blast. But the truth was, the technique had no form. It didn’t really matter where Shallies pointed it. The entire room was just collateral.

Maybe even the entire raid.

But he was still there, standing.

Stellar mana dispersed into motes of prismatic light, and Valor’el could finally see again. He blinked, turning to find Yoshelle and Arun’dul mesmerized by the disappearing technique.

In front of him was Daryl’kan, leaning on his lightning spear. The nephilim’s armor was broken, the feathers on his wings singed. His breathing was ragged, and he was bleeding all over the place as though some giant hand had squeezed all of the blood from his body like wringing out a towel.

He was still conscious, Valor’el realized, and already quickly regenerating. His armor, too, was repairing itself.

Shallies shifted her gaze, looking at the seraph with both of his hands still in the air, uncannily replicating the disappointing look from his mind. “What’re you doing?”

Valor’el found himself staring at the Godkiller’s sarcastic words. “I thought we were goners.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a God’s Vanquisher if it doesn’t have precise control.”

“That’s… not true,” Daryl’kan interjected, spitting blood. “I’ve seen what it can do. A true God’s Vanquisher could level entire kingdoms. It’s indiscriminate. What you have is just an imitation!”

Valor’el believed him, though he had only read about records of such. By the time he had become an Acting Deity, any history about the technique had already been prohibited by the System, locked behind an access only actual gods were privy to.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Daryl,” Shallies said, shrugging. “Are you giving up or what?”

“You think this level of power is enough to defeat me?” The nephilim laughed, his wounds now completely healed. “It’s going to take a genuine Vanquisher to make me surrender.”

“I’m so surprised that barely surviving a fakeGod’s Vanquisher made you so confident,” Shallies said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, what am I to do? I can’t possibly just do it all over again!”

“Laugh all you want, foolish woman!”

Valor’el barely caught the intent. Lightning erupted from Daryl’kan’s scorched wings, aimed at him and the other two beside him. The seraph was glad enough that he hadn’t dispelled any of his barriers yet, but he couldn’t see them surviving the attack despite that.

Then multiple Class Inventories opened in front of him, eating up all the lightning.

“Come on, man,” Shallies started. “You can be right next to them and I still won’t let you touch even the ends of their clothes. I’m your opponent here. Or are you so scared that you have to take other people as hostages?”

That seemed to have convinced the nephilim, and all Valor’el could do was sigh as he brought down his defenses.

---

Shallies gauged her opponent’s mana reserves. Daryl’kan had quite the supply of either mana and Stellar mana, utilizing them as he ran circles around her with blinding speed. The nephilim had ample mastery over recovery and efficiency, despite having mediocre control.

He had made a small containment with his circular movement. And from there, his mana surged, zapping away towards Shallies. She deflected each attack effortlessly, ones that could instantly kill dragons and giants, sending them far away from Valor’el and the others.

Desperate, the nephilim unleashed a snare of lightning beams, attacking her from all sides. It was an attack that, in most duels against spellcaster classes, was considered useless. Shallies could simply Sight Step out of the way, and she had half the mind to do so.

But Daryl’kan had survived during an era where power mattered more than finesse. Dodging would be a sign of weakness, even if it didn’t mean defeat.

Shallies wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

In true old-fashion duelist spirit, she unleashed her own array of Starfires, meeting each lightning strike with extreme accuracy. Explosions erupted in between them, followed by clouds of smoke and dispersing motes of Stellar mana.

Wind shifted the smoke, giving Shallies a mere instant to discern Daryl’kan’s next move. She swayed her head to the side, barely dodging a fist wreathed with lightning mana.

“That’s more like it.”

Shallies smiled as the frontal assault properly began from there. Without losing focus, the nephilim sent a flurry of kicks, all of which hit nothing but air. His momentum and ability to float allowed for unorthodox maneuvers, but the Godkiller saw through each of them.

One back hand came dangerously close, but Shallies simply guided it out of the way with her shoulder. Daryl’kan followed with another kick, and she simply stepped on to jump away.

He gave chase, not even sparing any moment to stop attacking and catch his breath. Shallies applauded his persistence and creativity to constantly change up tactics, as he employed the use of his spear and lightning strikes this time.

As the Godkiller dodged and weaved, she noticed the accumulation of mana from the nephilim’s wings. Daryl’kan was putting all of his abilities to the limit. His mana reached an apex, allowing him to double up his speed, while causing unpredictable lightning strikes that he didn’t care to control.

None of it fazed the Godkiller.

“You know you’re just showing how weak you are, if you’re going to rely on something like that, right?” Shallies asked, twirling to the side and tripping her opponent at the same time. Her timing was impeccable, as though her opponent was moving in slow motion instead. “With lightning this out of control, I can leave it to Valor’el to block all the strikes. I don’t even have to worry about them.”

True enough, the seraph had reactivated his barriers. Though the indiscriminate lightning coming from the nephilim had shattered a few, the inconsistencies in strength and frequency had allowed Valor’el to easily recover each time.

“You’re one to talk!” Daryl’kan retaliated. He recovered in the air, utilizing his wings. “Did that fake God’s Vanquisher drain you dry? You’re doing nothing but dodging and deflecting my attacks.”

With the obvious taunt, the nephilim threw his Falcanstorm Spear once more. It was an accurate strike, all things considered. Aimed right at Shallies’ heart.

The Godkiller simply caught it with a single hand.

At one point in the nephilim’s life, the spear, Shallies was sure, had been rather famous. Or infamous, depending on one’s perspective.

Crafted from mythically rare materials, from a slain mythical creature, and by multiple legendary artisans as their magnum opus, it had once borne a name that would strike fear into Daryl’kan’s enemies. History would surely contain records of it, if they hadn’t been erased or changed by Shallies or Destiny’s interventions.

Such a great weapon carried with it a vast memory. Enemies it had defeated, gods it had participated in slaying, back before there was even the term ‘Divine War’. All of these weighed upon the spear’s existence, giving it a certain significance. Of its power and burden.

Which was why Shallies felt a tinge of regret when she clenched her fist, and effortlessly snapped the spear in two.

The breaking caused intense mana to surge out of the spear’s shaft, creating a giant blast of lightning that pushed everything away. Everything except for Shallies, who stood unmoved at the point of impact. She relaxed her hand, dropping what remained of the weapon to the roiling clouds on the floor.

Then it was gone.

Utter shock and disbelief. Daryl’kan’s face refused to twist any further than those two expressions. Any more would show defeat. He was too full of pride to admit it.

And yet, that was Shallies’ goal. So she raised her hand once more, lifting a finger pointed directly at the nephilim.

“I’m breaking your wings next.”