When The Cute Godkiller Opens A Tavern [Stubbed]

Chapter 115 - In a Flash of Light

”Not everyone who struggles wants to. Not everyone can.” ~Shallies Mythernal

Arun’dul assumed that his other two companions, sitting right next to him, were also asking themselves why they were still in the raid in the first place. If Shallies had wanted to, she could have finished the raid on her own within a week, getting rid of Yoshelle’s whole purpose as the anchor. Valor’el wouldn’t be able to protect anyone, not against someone of Daryl’kan’s caliber. And he himself didn’t really need to be the nephilim’s vessel for any of the Godkiller’s plans to work here.

At least, he assumed.

He shook his head in silence, remembering Phey’lan’s quotes about him being the silent type, choosing only to say things when there was no other choice, while helplessly running what-ifs over and over inside his noggin. He didn’t think he was that sort of person, but he couldn’t exactly argue back against his mother-figure. There just wasn’t a good enough opportunity for him to speak up. Or so, he thought.

Those thoughts of his were currently in disarray, he realized. Even if they hadn’t been, the spectacle before him was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on his new dilemma regarding becoming a First Avanity’s vessel. It wasn’t just how effortlessly Shallies was fighting Daryl’kan. It was how subtle she was about it.

Arun’dul noted that the Godkiller hadn’t taken an actual step towards the nephilim, and yet, all the pressure was on the ancient being with wings. She hadn’t even taken ten paces away from where she had stood before the standoff broke. And every bit distance she had created, had never been a result of her putting even a foot backwards.

It was the subtle art of strength and control. To give the opponent every opportunity they could possibly want to settle into their own rhythm, and then deny them that very same rhythm with a single beat.

In Arun’dul’s eyes. He wasn’t even looking at a fight. It was like watching a frustrated kid trying to hit a veteran fighter. In his eyes, Daryl’kan absolutely had no chance.

So why bother prolonging the fight?

At least, the seraph thought it would be useless to do such a thing. He had to admit that his inexperience played a huge part in the formulation of such a naive question. From what he knew, the longer a fight was, the more unpredictable it became. He had been warned time and again to always make sure he finished the job as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was more of a way to ensure his safety than anything else.

He realized that there were people who were exempt to this rule. But he also realized that Shallies wasn’t one to arrogantly play with something so dangerous. If not for her own sake, then for theirs.

So once again, Arun’dul assumed that there must be a reason why the Godkiller was taking her time.

The answer hit him like a speeding mana-engine vehicle. And he immediately reprimanded himself for ignoring the obvious. But even then, he couldn’t come up with a proper reply, so he turned to his father-figure.

“What should I do?” he asked finally.

Valor’el didn’t turn to the young seraph. His attention was fully committed to ensuring their safety. But the slight relaxation in his expression meant that he was listening at the very least.

“Lady Shallies instructed me to not influence your answer,” he started. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions, Arun’dul. No matter what you choose, I will fully support it.”

Thunder roared and a flash of lightning caught the young seraph’s attention. After Shallies had made a declaration to break Daryl’kan’s wings, the nephilim had changed to using only ranged attacks, all of which had shown no effect against the Godkiller.

As he watched, Arun’dul tried to weigh his options.

Accepting meant a stop to his curse. Shallies hadn’t mentioned if it would be a permanent solution, but Arun’dul assumed it would be one for as long as he was the nephilim’s vessel. The only problem would be the unknown.

If his understanding of the situation was accurate, Nefurul was a goddess from beyond the ancient times, before the Godkiller had earned her title. That concept scared Arun’dul. And the way Shallies had put it, he would become a necessary piece in the coming fight against said goddess.

On the other hand, abstaining from the offer meant he would need to keep finding solutions for his curse. Being unable to see into his mana-core, albeit he was getting used to it by now, was an extreme inconvenience. He couldn’t risk using too much mana and turn back into a dragon.

It felt like a loss-loss either way, but the choice was perfectly clear for the young seraph.

With a sigh, he gathered his courage and stood, calling out to Shallies.

“I’ll do it!” he said.

Immediately, the lightning strikes ceased. Mana became neutral, dispersing in the air. And the vibrating hum that almost no one noticed suddenly tuned out.

All became calm.

Arun’dul observed Daryl’kan suspended in the air, turning frantically as he tried to muster mana to no avail. His nephilim wings could no longer lift him in the air, slowly letting him descend onto the cloudy floor.

There, the young seraph saw Shallies turn to him. Her smile was filled with pride and compassion. At least, that was what Arun’dul assumed.

“Good.”

---

“Guess I lied about the wings…”

“Whu-what’s going on!? My mana! My Stellar mana!”

Shallies looked at Daryl’kan with pity. For a person so powerful to feel so utterly powerless, it was probably the most horrifying feeling one could experience.

“A lot has happened when you were gone, Daryl,” she explained. “The era you know no longer exists. It’s not just about knowing techniques anymore. We’ve developed ways to deny your use of mana, and if you don’t know how to stop that, then there’s nothing you can do.”

The nephilim’s face turned to disgust. Horrified disgust. He pointed an accusatory finger at her and started yelling.

“That’s cheating! It’s unfair! Give me back my mana and fight!”

Shallies brought out a hand, pulling Daryl’kan by the neck with sheer mana-control. She held him in the air, strangling him while her fingers curved into insidious claws.

“Does it look like I care?” she started, keeping her voice calm. “Tell me when Nefurul’s resurrecting and I’ll at least end your life peacefully.”

The nephilim flailed and choked, spouting curse after curse. But no matter how much he struggled, the Godkiller refused to relent.

Shallies found no joy in torturing such a poor soul. More than anyone else, she understood what was truly going on behind Daryl’kan’s motives. And she knew it would take more than torture to make him give up.

“I’m not bluffing, Daryl,” she said, finally relaxing her hand. “If you tell me what I need to know, I promise you can rest. No god’s going after you.”

The nephilim’s eyes widened as acceptance dawned upon his face. But it twisted at the last second, refusing to believe straight away.

“Show me,” he demanded. “Show me that you’re the real Godkiller. Then I’ll trust your promise.”

Shallies sighed, using Scan on the entire raid. She mapped out three more floors above, including the one where Daryl’kan came from.

“Look closely, Daryl,” she began, as she manifested three God’s Vanquishers simultaneously. One was enough, but for theatrics’ sake, she made one for each Raid Boss on the upper floors.

With a flex of her will, the Godkiller influenced the Thrush’ven Alir Raid, summoning all three Raid Bosses next to her. Another storm dragon, another storm giant, and the third was… a falcanstorm.

Each monster was powerful in their own right. Guarding the upper floors, they were far stronger than the ones below them. But to Shallies, that didn’t matter.

Unleashing her God’s Vanquishers, the eruption of Stellar mana whisked away every boss monster. There was no struggle. No fight. The monsters didn’t even have time to understand that they were transported before they perished into nothingness.

At the same time, Shallies defeated every monster in the raid. Summoning them into the arena, then destroying them with another God’s Vanquisher. Again and again, until there was nothing left.

Loot Sources scattered on the ground, all glinting in different shapes and sizes. She gathered them all with numerous Class Inventories, planning to give them all to Yoshelle later after they had closed the raid.

Despite the dangers the Thrush’ven Alir Raid posed to nature and the common folk whenever it would make landfall, the truth of the matter was, its difficulty wasn’t that high. Even back then, Shallies wouldn’t have considered the raid worth her effort.

Though, she was hoping that this display would be enough to convince Daryl’kan. It would be a lot easier if he cooperated. Sure, she would still take his mana-core and transplant it over to Arun’dul, but at the very least, she would have a timeline to work with, while the nephilim would have an easier rehabilitation.

Peace was a tempting offer, she was sure. To be completely free of bonds, and to finally rest. Those were her terms for Daryl’kan. And he was, with an expression of utter awe, considering it.

“Five years,” he said finally. “Without my help, Nefurul will return in five years. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But she’ll be back.”

“What if you were able to help?”

“A year. Maybe half. With my help, I would’ve been able to form a tether with this world and guide her sense of direction. Maybe even convince Chaos to help out. But without that, I’m not sure how she will return to this reality, only that she will eventually.”

“I’ll worry about that,” Shallies said. “Thank you.”

The Godkiller surrounded the nephilim with warm mana, numbing all his senses to make the process painless. It would be quick, like he was just falling asleep. And then it would all be over.

“I just remembered,” Daryl’kan started. His face was no longer twisted or pained as he relaxed afloat on a bed of mana. “Do you know how my cousin died?”

“You don’t really recognize me, huh?” Shallies started. “Or did Fello’resh never mention me in his stories?”

For a second, Daryl’kan frowned as he tried to remember. “Shallies?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh… So you did become the Godkiller.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I suppose he died by your hand.”

“Yeah…”

“Good.”

Calmness returned to Daryl’kan as he closed his eyes. Silently, Shallies beckoned Arun’dul over as she began the transplantation process.

Bright blue mana emerged, surrounding the three. The Godkiller guided it with mastery, not letting even a single speck to go astray. The channeling continued for a long while, until Daryl’kan made his final breath. With it, a white core appeared from his chest, along with a small orb of light that was the nephilim’s soul.

“Good night, Daryl’kan. Rest in peace.”

Shallies turned to Arun’dul while she held the nephilim’s mana-core. The young seraph gulped once and hesitated. But she wasn’t giving him any time to prepare.

“Take a deep breath, Arun. This will probably overwhelm you.”