Chapter 225: EX 225. Herding
Leon’s vitality erupted from his body like a storm unchained, a torrent of life essence spilling outward as he charged into the suffocating shroud of the death zone. The corruption answered immediately, latching onto him, dragging at his essence with hungry claws. His very life force burned away at an alarming rate, but Leon had already decided, before the zone consumed him, he would bring this abomination down.
His blade hummed in his grip.
"King of Force,"
Leon muttered under his breath, and power flooded through him. His Tier III Force Affinity surged, swelling to a strength far beyond its normal limits. The energy clung to him like a second skin, coating both his body and sword in a gleaming, almost oppressive aura.
He moved without hesitation. With a single swing, Leon split through the creature’s right leg, the abomination crashing down with the force of a collapsing building. But even as it fell, the wound sealed, grotesque flesh writhing as the leg regrew before his eyes.
The death zone bit deeper, scorching more of his vitality. Leon crouched low, muscles coiling, then leapt skyward, moving with precision. He couldn’t waste energy. Every unnecessary strike, every excessive movement; it all drained him faster. This was no longer a battle of brute force, but of ruthless efficiency.
And Leon adapted.
As the abomination tried to follow his movement, its hulking frame sluggish, its grotesque right arm suddenly detached, severed in a blur of steel. It barely noticed before the limb regrew. But before the regeneration had even finished, its left arm fell away, hacked clean from the shoulder.
Leon was everywhere at once. His blade flashed like a phantom in the dark, his presence vanishing and reappearing across the abomination’s body. Cuts scored deeper and deeper, piling faster than the corruption could heal them. To the towering creature, Leon was nothing more than a gnat, an insect darting around its frame.
But this insect stung.
With each strike, the balance shifted. Injuries began to outpace regeneration, wounds reopening before they could seal, grotesque flesh unable to catch up with his relentless rhythm. The cacophony of severed limbs and reforming grotesqueries filled the air, until finally,
Leon appeared on its chest. The one place left unmarked.
The abomination’s countless faces twisted in unison, turning toward him with countless, wide, hate-filled eyes. For the first time, it seemed to understand the danger.
Leon’s grip tightened. His Force flared brighter than ever before, the King of Force pulling more out of him than he had poured into any strike since stepping into the death zone. His vitality screamed as it burned away, but he pressed forward, funneling everything into this one decisive blow.
The sword cleaved down.
This time, the abomination did not shrug it off.
A scream erupted from its body, not from one face, but from all of them. Hundreds of mouths cried out in unison, a horrific, deafening roar that tore through the forest as Leon’s strike carved into its chest. The air trembled, the ground split beneath them, and for the first time the corruption writhed in true agony.
****
There was a reason for the abomination’s sudden reaction.
Up until now, the grotesque mass had been eerily unresponsive to Leon’s constant slashes, limbs torn off and regrown, flesh carved apart and reformed, wounds that would’ve crippled any normal beast shrugged off like nothing. But this time, when Leon’s blade bit into its chest, the abomination screamed, writhing in agony.
Was the attack itself different? Not really. Stronger, yes, but not so much that it should’ve done what none of the others could. The truth was simpler.
This had been Leon’s plan all along.
The strategy began the moment he sliced off the creature’s leg. Every strike since then wasn’t just about damage, it was about control. Each cut, each flash of steel, each wound inflicted had been a herding tactic. Leon had noticed with his heightened senses that the abomination’s true self, the City Lord’s still-conscious head buried deep inside, shifted constantly, avoiding the brunt of any blow by slipping to another part of its massive, writhing form.
But there was one flaw. Even a degraded mind like the City Lord’s had instinct. And instinct hated pain. Every time Leon targeted a region, the head would never return there once it had been struck, no matter how superficial the wound. Slowly and steadily, Leon had driven it into a corner, forcing it to retreat further and further away from his blades until there was only one place left.
The chest.
Now, pinned in the one region left untouched, the corrupted Lord could no longer dodge. Leon had funneled it into a trap, the oldest trick in the book. And now that the head was exposed, he was relentless.
The abomination’s countless faces shrieked in unison as it tried to retaliate. A massive hand swung for Leon, but he was already moving, his blade flashing as he lopped the limb away without sparing it a glance. Then he was back at the chest, his sword cleaving again and again, tearing gashes across the grotesque mass until the true form was revealed.
The City Lord’s head. Twisted, grotesque and screaming.
Leon’s eyes narrowed, expression cold and resolute. He raised his blade high, Force roaring around it like a storm, and drove it down.
Steel pierced flesh.
The corrupted head convulsed, letting out a guttural, broken roar as the death zone flared one last time. The suffocating pressure expanded violently, trying to consume Leon whole, before collapsing inward all at once. The grotesque body began to crumble, the thousands of faces turning to ash as the massive golem disintegrated, piece by piece, until nothing remained but drifting black dust.
And there Leon stood, breathing heavy, his sword still buried in the earth where the City Lord’s head had been moments before. The corruption was gone. The death zone had dissolved. And above him, the midday sun of Pandora shone bright and unforgiving, bathing him in harsh light as though to mark his victory.
Leon had won.