Silver Realm
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CHAPTER 233- MONSTERS OF THE HEART
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 19:00:07 +0000 UTCSordor roared with rage, creating a shockwave of such strength that a nearby building crumbled, yet it seemed to have no effect on the empowered Minion as it threw a powerful fist into his stomach.
The physical blow meant nothing, even as a Master, it would not have been worth too much caution. And he had long since surpassed Masterhood. Yet he still coughed blood.
It was not the physical attacked that caused him so much pain, but instead it was his own Mana, revolting against itself.
The empowered Minion threw another punch, but Sordor grabbed its wrist and yanked forward. He had intended to pull the Minion off its feet, but in his anger, he had forgotten his own strength and instead tore its arm out of its shoulder socket.
The Minion immediately shrunk down, another growing elsewhere. The now normal Undead glanced at its missing arm, glanced back at where it was held limp in Sordor’s hand, and glared are him, before he disintegrated it with an enraged kick.
Again and again, he would be attacked by the larger Undead while the rest distracted and served as shields. Blow after blow, he grew more and more furious.
Allowing the Empowered Undead to land blow after blow, Sordor gathered his Mana before he expelled it in a violent fiery wave that incinerated everything around him for several meters. Everything from wood to stone, Undead included.
Spitting out blood, Sordor stood up straight and glared at the impudent runt that had caused all this.
“You! Is this all you are capable of? Hiding behind your Minions? This is what Evros was careful of? Just another cowardly Summoner? Take away your Minions, and what are you then? HUH!”
Alaster stared at the ancient Demigod before him, a man who had lived for hundreds of years at least, one who had explored and monitored the world all that time, yet Alaster stared at him as if he was an idiot.
“Seriously? That’s like asking a Mage what he would do if he didn’t have any Mana, or a Swordsmen without any arms. I thought you Demigods were supposed to be smart. Either I was wrong, or you are just the slowest of the bunch.”
Sordor’s body ignited in bright, nearly white, flames that consumed every detail about him. He was furious, deciding to show this whelp the difference between them.
Exactly what Alaster wanted.
At the same time Sordor gathered his power, Alaster activated his new Ability.
In an instant, all of his Undead exploded into Black tinged green mist and flowed towards him. All of his Undead. Even the Shadow Assassins throughout the continent. Reports flowed around, of an unstoppable unnatural mist that had simply appeared in various important locations before flying away faster than any arrow.
Sordor watched the mist gather around Alaster, swirling around him in a vortex that whipped the wind around, blowing away the small stones and pieces of rubble nearby.
The vortex grew large enough to encompass a building, before it rapidly crashed inward, towards Alaster.
But the figure that walked out of that vortex was not Alaster. Not the young man that Sordor had so desired to tear limb from limb. It couldn’t be.
After Sedall had been locked away by those Dwarves, Sordor had become the uncontested strongest of the Demigods. The strongest Human in the mortal world. He had fought for centuries to gain that title, but once he had it, he had grown bored. He no longer had a challenge, at least not one that he was willing to awaken.
He had spent the last four hundred years desperately searching for that feeling once more. That feeling of uncertainty. Uncertainty of his victory. Uncertainty of his survival.
But it was a feeling that was impossible to forget.
And he felt it now.
The figure before him, the Monster, reminded Sordor of the first time he had seen a Wyvern when he had just been a weak Novice still trying to figure out his first Abilities.
Towering at nearly nine feet tall, wearing thick plates of spiked black armor. Wielding no weapon other than the razor sharp claws of its gauntlets. Wearing a cruel mask of black depicting an unknown Monster’s head, but similar to that of a dragon’s. A tattered ethereal cape of constantly shifting blackness fell from its shoulders, appearing almost like wings.
It lowered its center of gravity, holding its clawed hands out at its knees. Its mask molded, as if it was flesh, as it roared, revealing its sickly green and black mouth of long fangs.
The sound it uttered was unlike any Sordor had ever heard before. As if a million different voices were all screaming out their fury.
The battles within the city paused for a moment, wondering what type of beast had caused such a cursed sound.
Sordor found himself retreating a step back. An action he had forbidden himself from taking since before he was an Expert.
His heart pounded in his chest, previously from pure rage, now a seedling of fear took hold.
Almost faster than the Demigod could react, the Monster appeared before him, its claws, covered in Black Mana, already aimed for his throat with such speed that the air cracked.
In that split second Sordor had, he knew that this attack was not like the ones before, where they slowly whittled away at him from the inside. This attack was one that could kill him, from inside and out.
Sordor kicked backward, launching himself as far away as he could from this beast.
The creature’s attack missed.
Its clawed hand hit nothing, yet the city block in the direction of its swing disappeared in a cloud of dust and rubble.
Before the Demigod put his weight back on his feet, over a hundred feet away from the Monster, it was right in front of him, already attacking yet again.
Again and again, Sordor retreated, desperately trying to find a weakness, some type of gap in its defenses.
He found plenty.
But each one caused his instincts to scream danger.
Each missed attack eradicated portions of the city.
Soon, Sordor found himself at the base of the Outer Castle walls, but it didn’t matter. Despite the Castle’s numerous Enchantments, it too shattered before the unintentional might of this creature.
With each attack it missed, its roars only grew louder and louder, filled with rage and fury.
Sordor knew he could not continue to dodge, but it was taking everything he had to do so. He dared not to touch that Black Mana. Before, it had annoyed him, but now, everything about it was causing his skin to crawl. His own body wanted to flee, to get as far away as it could from that Mana.
But the creature was not mindless.
On its next attack, the shadows nearby darkened, clinging to the Demigod. They caused only a moment’s hesitation before they tore from Sordor’s strength, but that was enough for the Monster’s strike to land.
Sordor screamed as his body was thrown backward, through dozens of walls.
For the first time in centuries, Sordor bled. For the first time since he achieved Masterhood, he was uninjured.
Blood poured from the four deep lines across his chest. Blood that should have immediately clotted, flesh that should have immediately sewn itself back together.
Something about the Black Mana had prevented his body from working as it should have as a Demigod’s.
Tenderly touching at the edges of his wounds, Sordor looked at the dark blood that coated his fingers. His blood.
Groaning from the movement, Sordor stood up from the rubble. Clenching his fists tightly, Sordor realized that he did not have a choice. He could no longer carefully analyze his opponent’s movements to know when to best strike as effortlessly as possible.
This was not a battle he could win if he did not put everything on the line.
The bright flames that covered his body intensified even more, burning a brilliant white that produced such heat that it began to melt the stone beneath his feet.
A moment later, the Monster appeared, already attacking, but Sordor was ready.
A powerful kick connected with the Monster, launching it to the side, indifferent to the numerous Enchanted walls that blocked its flight.
Sordor chased after it, appearing above it as it landed. It dodged the first blow, even from a prone position, but only blocked the second. It went flying once more, but this time it was prepared for when Sordor appeared.
Back and forth they went, exchanging blow after bloody blow, turning the once beautiful Outer Castle into naught but ruin and rubble.
Each blow the Monster delivered upon Sordor, produced blood and flesh, despite the steel melting flames that covered him.
Each blow Sordor delivered upon the Monster bent and deformed the metal scales that covered it, producing roars of pain.
Yet even as Sordor grew tired from exhaustion and weak from injury, the Monster continued with the same fury.
Eventually, the two found themselves on the bridge connecting the Inner Castle to the Outer. The countless Enchanted weapons began to fire upon the two, but they continued to fight, uncaring of the barrage that would have otherwise decimated entire armies of prepared Experts.
With a powerful kick straight to his chest, the Monster sent the Demigod flying straight through the door, a door that could withstand the King’s own attacks for over an hour.
Servants screamed and ran while Silver armored Royal Guards rushed forward, yet with the forces the two were causing, none could get close, and those that tried were torn apart.
Still, the two continued to fight.
And gradually, even the prideful Sordor knew that he would lose.
Desperate, he activated an item he thought he would never use.
A distress beacon.
One that activated the others of its kind, which all Demigods had on their person at all times.
Evros glanced in Sordor’s direction, costing him a blow to his leg. Evros could not afford to be distracted from his fight with Sedall. He only hoped that Zyrasil would get to Sordor in time.
Zyrasil, combatting the Golden Thousand and their King, received the distress beacon and immediately disengaged. While his opponents were skilled combatants that could withstand his attacks without taking losses, they could not prevent him from leaving, yet they chased.
The Monster kicked Sordor once more. The Demigod flew into a large door, but this time, he didn’t break through.
The Monster took advantage and appeared before the Demigod, raining blow after blow on him, but after only a dozen, the door began to fracture and break.
With one last powerful kick, the Monster sent the Demigod through the door and high above the ground. Sordor landed heavily on the stairs, still alive, but broken.
The Monster did not care about his surroundings and single-mindedly burst forward towards his prey.
The air cracked and a shockwave shattered the polished marble ground, the elegant and rich carpet, and the reinforced marble pillars. Rubble crumbled, bodies flew, cries of pain.
But none of it mattered to the Monster. It crashed into the Demigod, embedding him even deeper into the Marble stairs before lifting him up by the throat.
“Stop!”
The command came with such force that the dust of the room was blown away. Standing at the entrance to the Throne Room was a man that the Monster recognized as another Demigod.
It did not obey Demigods.
In one movement, before Zyrasil could interfere, the Monster lifted Sordor to its mouth and tore out his throat as it tore into the Demigod’s chest and pried it open.
Blood flew and flowed in rivers.
The Monster glared at the stunned Demigod, knowing that it could not defeat him.
It was too injured. Too tired.
Slowly, the Monster walked up the steps, past the corpse of the once strongest Human in the mortal world, and sat heavily upon the still elegant and beautiful Throne, now defiled by the Demigod’s blood that dripped off the Monster’s broken and bent armor.
A moment later, the King arrived with his Golden Thousand, ready to combat the Demigod once more and protect his Castle. But the Demigod did not even spare them a glance, giving them pause.
The King carefully walked forward, standing beside the Demigod to look into his now destroyed Throne Room.
His eyes only glanced over the Demigod’s corpse, the broken stairs, or the Monster that now sat upon his Throne.
Instead, his eyes locked onto a shifting mound of rubble. He rushed forward, his Golden Thousand right behind him. The Golden Thousand tried to keep their Liege away, but he shoved past them, clawing at the rubble with his bare hands.
They instead helped him, and together the rubble was quickly removed.
There, bloody and broken, was the Royal Family.
The Crown Prince. The Queen. And the two twins, a boy and girl, who had been so excited to receive their Classes that year.
