NOVEL NEXT Chapter 34: Battle-Born
Battle-born—this is a term used in modern-day Earth for individuals who have an exceedingly high intellect for battle.
Even without any training, they would be able to hold their own against experienced veterans. They are led by their instincts that guide them towards the path of victory, and it was mainly this type of people that could easily enter the state of flow during battle.
And this was what Spark was. Not only did he have a concerning mental condition that caused him to have murderous impulses, he was also battle-born—a human who was basically fashioned for killing.
Talk about giving wings to a tiger.
Back then, when his foster father discovered all this, he didn't get mad or scared. He took his time and made sure he sculpted Spark, directing him to walk the right path.
And through rigorous training, Spark had fully mastered the art of entering the state of flow—which he just did now.
So right now, his original battle IQ that was exceedingly high previously was now basically off the charts, and he saw the path to victory…
Spark reached for his severed arm, a gesture that cost him. As he reached for it, a spear arrived from nowhere, mercilessly aiming to impale him to the ground.
One could almost sense the gloating of the cloaked figure wielding the spear. 'They're all the same—even a martial artist is no different. They lose an arm, they flinch,' the cruel thought ran through the Godslayer's mind as his cloak hid a devious smile.
His spear passed through Spark's figure without him feeling any resistance.
He frowned. It felt wrong.
This was too easy.
Unfortunately, he discovered this too late—and it cost him. An arm with an outstretched palm imitating a sword pushed from his spine and bulged through his bowels, resurfacing at his front.
Spark stood behind the spear user, his right arm wielding his decapitated left arm as though a sword. The assailant opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak and could only gargle. Spark's eyes glowed brilliantly as his input ran at full drive.
Within a split second, the assassin had emaciated into a shriveled corpse.
Though this whole engagement seemed long, from the moment Spark lost his arm to now, only three seconds had passed. The assassin didn't even register how he died.
But his comrade did—and it cost him dearly. Seeing his teammate, who was like a brother to him, die, the figure wielding chakrams lost control of his emotions for a split second. And within that split second, his foot hit a pebble.
Before he could even react to his mistake, an arm ran through his head violently, as it exploded—splashing blood and brain matter all over.
By now, the arm Spark was holding had long been unsealed as his bandages had loosened, exposing an extremely pale, delicate, fine-toned arm, marred with all sorts of bone-deep cuts all over.
The rapid succession of his double kill seemed to intimidate his enemies for a second—but only for a second, as they were upon him once more, as though the deaths of their teammates never fazed them.
This time, they didn't come one at a time. Three were upon him, wielding slim katana. Their blades moved in sync, each targeting a blind spot at an odd angle. 'Bastards, want to trade one of your lives for mine, huh?' Spark saw through their intentions.
They made this uncomfortable move so that he could only kill one at most, and before he was done with that one, they would be done with him.
Spark's eyes remained cold as his brain rapidly calculated his next move. A sharp glint flickered through his eyes. His previous act of killing two members seemed to not have affected their judgment on the surface—but it did, as they forgot something.
A torrent of fluorescent steam gushed out of his figure as his output was cranked to full gear. The cloudy haze of colorful steam obstructed the vision of the others.
But by the time it cleared up, two more corpses were added to the ground, and Spark's figure could be seen bolting into the distance.
"Shit! After him now. It was a distraction—he never meant to fight till the end," the captain quickly realized, as the squad spread widely, flitting through rooftops, making sure Spark remained encircled.
Just then, the figure they were pursuing vanished mid-chase, right before their eyes. The captain's eyes bulged at this as he cursed, Shit! As though in tow, a helpless scream rang out from the left side of the encirclement.
'That devious bastard—he's picking us off one by one… All of you, band together in teams. Triangulate his location, and the first team to find him, give a signal then attack. Make sure to stall as much as possible,' the captain's voice barked out orders in their heads.
The captain was livid. To think a martial artist could play them like this—this was the first time he had lost members during battle. Who the heck is this guy?
Meanwhile, just at the moment he was giving his orders, right before they started banding together, a cloaked assassin wielding a stiletto suddenly felt something wrong. As he turned around, right before him was Spark—his arm already reattached. His mouth opened in an attempt to scream.
But before he could let out so much as a wince, the newly reattached arm thrust violently through his mouth, passing through the esophagus and jutting out violently from the other end.
Spark's once pale arm was now glowing with a healthy pink lush. Even the scars all over it were writhing in a vain attempt to heal themselves.
Thud!
The moment he drained the corpse dry, the stiletto fell to the ground. Though the noise was faint, in the dead of the night, that didn't matter.
Tsk! Spark clicked his tongue in annoyance. 'It seems I can't go one-on-one anymore.'
As he had this thought, twelve men appeared from nowhere, their weapons in full throttle, ready to engage.
From the distance, the captain and the others who were rushing towards the sound caught sight of this scene—twelve of his men in the air, their weapons all in motion. A smirk grew on his face. 'I guess you're still done after all.'
Unfortunately, his glee didn't last long, as a cloud of fluorescent steam devoured the twelve men suddenly. And in that split second, terrified screams and groans were all that was heard—before silence…
The captain stopped dead in his tracks. His previous smile had vanished. His eyes locked onto the scene, and as the steam slowly cleared out, he saw a lone figure standing hunched—a pair of sapphire blue eyes piercing through the veil, locked onto him and his remaining teammates.
At this moment, the captain finally felt the dread that all villains of Earth faced when they were confronted by the Hero of Depraved Justice.
His throat went dry as a shiver crept up his spine. Perspiration flowed from his back, ignoring the chilly weather of the night. He stuttered an order in fear. 'Everyone retreat—this is way beyond our abilities.'
He barely finished giving the order when he himself had turned around and bolted. His teammates followed suit, their faces aghast in fear. They couldn't believe that their formation was broken just like that—and now they were suffering a loss like never before.
As they ran, occasional terror-filled screams could be heard every now and then—as prey had turned predator.
On the building miles away, two men remained watching this scene with ugly expressions…
'Shit! Shit! Shit! How could he have survived this? Now the prince has suffered such a loss because of me—will I be punished?' Fatty Ji's cheeks trembled in terror as he stole sideways glances at the prince, trying to read his expression.
Meanwhile, the prince—who had already forgotten about his existence—also had a darkened expression. 'Damn! Those guys are useless. They couldn't even handle him, even with such a handicap…
Anyway, regardless—this makes me want you even more,' the prince's eyes glinted with a dangerous sheen of purple.