Return of the Legendary Runesmith

What is regarded as overwhelming strength?

The Acolytes were staring straight at it.

The moment the man stomped his armament into the ground, the earth trembled—then roared. A massive whirlpool of water erupted, twisting into a monstrous vortex that swallowed everything in reach.

It was like a violent water beast, sucking everyone inside it, pulling them to their death.

Screams ripped through the gallery as the pull grew unstoppable.

"NO—!" One Acolyte clawed at the stone floor, fingernails tearing off as he was dragged backward. His body lifted from the ground, spiraling helplessly before slamming into the wall with a CRACK. His neck bent at a sickening angle, his body twitching once before going limp.

Another tried to anchor himself with magic, planting glowing chains into the floor. The chains lasted two seconds—then snapped like twigs. His scream ended in a wet SPLAT as he was hurled against the ceiling, blood dripping down in crimson streams.

Bodies collided midair, bones breaking like glass under the crushing force. Some Acolytes were sucked into the spinning center, their flesh shredded as the pressure twisted them apart, scattering chunks of meat into the current.

The water wasn't just dragging them—it was grinding them.

The Acolytes were turning helpless, unable to protect themselves, forget about their comrades. It was as if they were waiting for a man but they came across a monster.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY—AAAHHH!" A man shrieked as his leg snapped backward, the joint bending the wrong way before the rest of him was swallowed whole.

Spells fired wildly in every direction—fire, lightning, stone—but none of it reached the man who had summoned the storm. Their magic fizzled out, lost in the roaring vortex.

The smell of iron filled the air. The floor was slick with blood, fragments of skull and ribs smashing against the walls like broken debris.

The Acolytes' cries turned from defiance… to desperation…

Just then, Adrian, standing in the eye of the storm, felt a sharp killing intent from above.

He summoned his staff, and in the same instant teleported away. A hex crashed into the spot where he had stood, burning straight through the floor with a sizzling, acidic hiss.

The raging waters finally settled as Adrian reappeared a short distance away. His cold eyes locked onto a figure hovering in the air—a man in a red cloak.

The man's composure was unsettling, his glare fixed on Adrian like a predator sizing up its prey. From his presence alone, it was clear—he was a high-ranking Acolyte.

"Surround him! He's alone!" the red-cloaked man ordered.

More than thirty Acolytes still remained. Among them, one wore the same shade of shroud as the levitating figure, his aura untouched by Adrian's tier-four spell.

Adrian picked up his axe, raising it steadily as he pointed the blade at the man in the air.

"I'll kill you first."

The blue-haired man snarled, but Adrian's attention shifted as he felt a surge of mana from his left.

"Crimson Fangs!" an Acolyte roared, slamming his staff against the ground. From the earth, blazing spikes erupted, racing toward Adrian with terrifying speed.

Adrian growled, spinning his axe before catching it firmly in both hands. He raised it high, then brought it down with a fierce slash.

"Crescent Tide."

A massive wave of water burst forth, cutting through the air like a blade. The roaring tide crashed against the spikes, shattering them into steam and cinders.

The Acolyte clicked his tongue, his link to the spell snapping under the overwhelming force.

He tried to summon another spell—and so did many of the others.

But Adrian's figure suddenly blurred.

"What is that speed?!" someone shouted, seeing nothing but a fading afterimage where Adrian had been. "He shouldn't be able to move like that!"

The levitating man narrowed his eyes. "No wonder they wanted him." A non-believer using body enhancement…that was nothing short of anomalous.

Adrian poured power into his legs, sprinting in a wide circle. Spells fired at him from every direction, but none found their mark. At that speed, only luck could land a hit.

His eyes locked onto the Acolyte in the air.

With a sudden burst, Adrian leapt, his legs propelling him twenty feet high. His axe lifted above his head, gleaming as it came down for the strike.

"Erin!" The other high-ranking Acolyte from the surface called out.

The high-ranking Acolyte—Erin—did not flinch. He hadn't earned his place by chance. Their eyes met for a heartbeat before Erin raised his hand, a sickly green barrier blooming around him just as the axe closed in—

SQUELCH

Erin's grin faltered. His head snapped downward.

The others froze as a wet, tearing sound echoed from the ground. Something had been ripped apart.

The Acolyte who had cried out his name… his head burst like rotten fruit, painting the floor with gore.

And there stood Adrian, behind the corpse, his axe dripping red as the blood spread in a wide pool around his boots.

Adrian looked up, smearing blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. His voice cut through the chaos, calm and taunting.

"You didn't actually think I'd be hell-bent on killing you first just because I said it… did you?"

Erin's face twisted, his teeth grinding.

A ploy.

He had fallen for it.

"Damn you!" he roared. A massive magic circle flared before his hands, pulsing with a sinister glow.

One by one, the surviving Acolytes collapsed, their screams choked as their vitality was ripped straight from their bodies. Flesh withered, eyes sank, and skin clung to bone as the circle fed on their life force.

Adrian's eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on the axe.

Dark arts.

'That's impossible… those spells belong only to the witches. Their rites and rituals are secrets, never shared. How could he—?'

The realization sank heavy. Whatever Erin was, he wasn't just another Acolyte.

'This is bad…I can't counter this using the spell dismantling bullet.' That bullet could only dismantle those spells which were registered.

And this spell doesn't fall into any category. It was an anomaly just as the chanter was.

"You are going to pay for the sins you have committed." The man howled, the purple orbs flaring, turning bigger as it appeared to be sucking even the light from the surroundings.

Adrian narrowed his eyes and dropped his revolver and axe.

What appeared in his hand was a rusty blade handle.

"Once again…I am going to rely on you, Valor."

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A/N:- This is what happens when Adrian remembers how good his armaments are.. If you are enjoying the story so far, please drop a comment or review.