Lord of Annihilation

"Argh! My hand! ARH--!!"

"Everyone! Watch your backs! He can—URGH!!"

"DAMNIT! DAMNIT!! KILL THAT MONS—!"

Intermittent screams resounded within the MCS-Eithen's Command Center as multiple screens depicting scenes of violence played out. 

"DIE! DIE! DIE! AHHH NOOOOOO!~"

"Please I beg you! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I HAVE A WIF--!!"

"Jerome! NOOO!"

"He-he bit him on h-his throat and tore his head off USING HIS MOUTH!"

The Command Center was populated by a few dozen officers, the majority of whom had a rhombus-shaped crystal embedded into their forehead, while a minority had tall figures, elongated ears, and beautiful-looking faces.

At this moment, peering at these scenes of violence, the entire room was enveloped in pin-drop silence, as its inhabitants watched with pale faces and horrified eyes. 

A line of sweat could be seen dotting the foreheads of every single individual, while their mouths randomly moved, dry and speechless.

"Great mother, thy who casts the eternal shade, please, please, PLEASE STRIKE DOWN THIS EVIL WITH THY STRENGTH!"

"NO! SPARE ME! I WILL--!!"

The numerous screens that floated within the room blacked out one after the other as the person within its broadcast died a gruesome death.

And boy, were they gruesome…

Heads torn, limbs maimed, intestines ripped, organs smashed…the black-robed figure within the screens' broadcast killed in the most creative, brutish way imaginable.

To highlight one, he had used his mouth to tear at an assailant's throat, grabbed his gullet with his teeth, and then used that same gullet to asphyxiate another. The worst thing was, this set of events did not even fully kill the duo!

In other words, the black-robed figure flashing through the screens was 'playing' with his assailants by inflicting terrible pain into them, before killing them!

Looking at the variety of torture that was shown on the screens, even the most stoic of officers within the Command Center felt the urge to throw up. 

Not to mention the rest…

---

Inside a closed cabin floating at an elevated level within the Command Center.

Valentine, the Royal Captain of the Elven Forces, and her aide Tidor, the Vice-Captain of the same, watched the horrific scenes with clenched fists and bleeding lips. 

The forces making up the assailants, who were getting one-sidedly slaughtered out there, were made up with the Elven Royal Guards as the majority, while the Magi belonging to the Sunset Army were being held up as reinforcements.

Seeing a scene of an Elf getting his head cracked open and his brain ripped out of his cranium, Valentine finally saw red. 

Enough was enough!

They, who were sent here to act as support as the Sunset Army in their task of capturing a dangerous criminal were instead being used as cannon fodder for this engagement.

That Elf, who had brutally died just moments ago, was the youngest, newest recruit to the Royal Guards and a person whom she had just been speaking with a few hours ago. 

"Captain," Tidor turned his head and saw the expression of pain and rage on his female leader's face, "our people are getting slaughtered out there. If we don't retreat now, I'm afraid that the Royal Elven Guards will cease to exist!"

Opening her mouth, Valentine spoke, "I'm aware…" Her voice was unusually low and gravelly. Reaching out with her hand, she touched a circular button on the console before her and ordered, "Elven forces, retreat."

Just as her order was about to be sent out, another voice intervened.

"Overruled. Your men are to continue fighting, Miss Valentine," a deep, powerful male voice declared. 

Hearing his words, Valentine's eyes turned bloodshot. 

Raising her head, she turned towards another elevated platform, atop of which stood a middle-aged Magi wearing black robes with golden lacing. His tall figure stood straight and resolute, while his deep eyes held an unfathomable look.

"MAXWELL!" Valentine yelled. "Are you going to make me stand by here and watch my men get slaughtered!?" 

Her loud words resounded within the Command Center drawing the eyes of everyone present towards her and the Magi wearing the luxurious robes.

Looking down at the platform containing the two Elves, Maxwell's eyes suddenly shone with a purple glow. 

Valentine and Tidor suddenly found themselves unable to move their bodies and felt the air around them disappear. Their Mental Worlds suddenly trembled while their souls shook from fear and powerlessness.

Just as their faces were starting to change expressions, Maxwell's deep voice resounded once more.

"That's Duke Maxwell to you," having said that, he gazed at them for a few more seconds before turning back to the screen.

Valentine and Tidor dropped to their knees while desperately gasping for breath. Both of their faces were bloodless while their bodies quaked with fear.

Biting her lips to the point of drawing blood from them, Valentine punched the floor with her trembling fists and despondently thought.

'I'm no match for him…'

Valentine was a Peak-Level Stage 4 being, while Duke Maxwell was a Low-Level Stage 5 being. However, the small difference in their Stages created an impassable gulf that was near-impossible to cross.

'If only I was stronger!'

Regret flooded her heart.

---

On the highest platform, Duke Maxwell continued to gaze at the screens for a few more minutes before taking action.

"I've seen enough. Tell the ones in the field to retreat." He spoke in a flat tone that was neither too loud nor too soft. However, they seemed to have this unshakable property about it which made his words impossible to be ignored.

Nodding his head, a Magi officer sitting at floor level turned towards his desk, pressed on a few buttons, and spoke.

"This is the MCS-Eithen, all units within the field are to retreat! I repeat! All units within the field are to retreat!"

His orders, however, seemed to come too late as the final screens which had remained lit-up, finally darkened. 

The entire Royal Elven Guards, apart from Valentine and Tidor, had been wiped out. 

Shaking his head with pity, Duke Maxwell snapped his fingers and disappeared from his platform.

----------

Casting aside the two incomplete corpses that he held within his hand, Lucius turned around and took a look at the trail of destruction and chaos that he had left.

Scattered body parts, spheres of congealed blood, dozens of decapitated heads whose expressions lay frozen with fear and/or horror, spatial storms caused by spatial tears…it was a brutal scene of a tragedy.

One could imagine the intensity of the battle that had taken place by simply looking at the destruction it had left behind.

Hell, Lucius had even destroyed an entire moon during the course of battle! Even the fragments of that could be seen in the forming of chaotically floating debris.

After indifferently taking in these sights, Lucius then turned his gaze towards himself. He took a look at his blood-covered hands, torn robes, and bone-deep wounds that required treatment.

Clicking his tongue, he thought to himself, 'This is my final set of robes. Now, it's ruined.' He then proceeded to shake his head.

Moving his soul power, Lucius first expelled the various masses of foreign soul power left on his body. The instant these energies left him, the unhealed wounds started to automatically heal.

A faint grumble escaped from Lucius' stomach as he felt the soft pangs of hunger. Taking a look inside, Lucius realized that both his soul power and void energy reserves were running low.

He then looked at the broken corpses floating before him and felt an ache within this heart.

'Ah. So many corpses and so many souls…'

Unfortunately, Lucius couldn't consume any of these. He knew that he was being watched by a Stage 5 existence from somewhere and couldn't risk exposing his secrets.

To maintain his secret, Lucius had even forgone devouring their souls, an act that filled him with endless frustration.

'A pity,' he shook his head. 'If I had devoured all those souls, I could've reached Peak-Level Stage 4 in one go.'

Putting aside his disappointment, he felt the hunger within him grow more and more intense. Just as he was about to reach into his supplies to grab a few snacks to munch on, Lucius suddenly paused and turned his gaze towards an empty patch of space.

After a few minutes of uninterrupted eye contact and painful silence, a deep voice suddenly rang out.

"Sharp. Your senses are very sharp." The empty space wavered for a moment before revealing a tall Magi wearing black robes with golden lacing drawn upon them. 

He then looked at Lucius with an unfathomable gaze and continued, "Then again, that's how you noticed our sneak attack, didn't you?"

Under Lucius' intense gaze, Maxwell nonchalantly floated over towards an incomplete Elven corpse. Poking at it with his long, slender fingers he remarked.

"Unnecessarily harsh, isn't it? I don't see the need to subject them to such cruelty before killing them." Turning his gaze towards Lucius, he then spoke with a hint of respect within his tone.

"Though I have to say, your ability to accurately stop every single one of them from releasing their Worlds, throughout the entire duration of the battle, is a feat that even I'm not confident of accomplishing. Your unnatural combat ability has earned my respect."

Pausing his words, Maxwell casually flew over towards Lucius and lightly asked, "You understand why I'm here, right?"