Free Web NovelChapter 225: _You’re No God
The Orc King’s footing faltered as Ambrose took slow, deliberate steps forward. The skeleton of the orc he killed twitched when his shadow moved over it.
Then—a dark blue light glowed in its hollow eye sockets. It rose to its feet, standing tall with pieces of its rotted flesh still sticking to it.
A flick of Ambrose’s wrists injected the reanimated orc with enough aether to make those muscles harden while strengthening its bones.
[NOTE: Host is capable of recalling fallen phantoms in his army back to his shadow. They can then stay in a brief state of hibernation until they’re stable for use again.]
’What about corpses or skeletons?’
[As long as they’re not completely disintegrated or destroyed, the host can piece back shattered parts and keep them moving.]
’Excellent.’ he stretched out his arms, the motion making his shadow spread out on the ground like a cloak. "Return—my fallen phantoms."
Shadows of the ten orcs he reanimated howled before rushing in a blur into his shadow. With all of them kept safely, Ambrose could finally focus.
The orc army—still under the buff of their king—charged at him, not wasting another second. One roared before raising an axe aimed at his head.
Ambrose’s lips curved.
Like a living shadow, he shifted to his right, dodging effortlessly. The axe struck the ground he was standing on a second ago, shattering it.
A swipe of his palm sent frost spreading through every inch of the axe. The orc struggled to pull out its weapon to no avail. By the time it could even think of letting go, the frost crept up its arms.
Ambrose clenched his fists.
The frost bit into skin, overriding every defence before latching right at the orc’s heart. It fell to its knees in a couple of seconds then turned to a living ice sculpture.
Meanwhile, the reanimated skeleton flanked his left, parrying any attack from its former brethren that Ambrose ignored.
Icicles high as towers erupted ahead of them, ripping about five orcs apart. Their blood and body parts barely rained on the throne room floor before stitching back together.
They rose as part of Ambrose’s army, their cores intact while still carrying the boost from their king.
The orc King’s features twitched with pure terror. One by one more of his men fell. Either burned by the human’s flames. Or frozen and torn by his frost.
Not to mention the burning ice attacks that completely disintegrated any orc in its way.
And with each orc that fell—a new phantom or corpse was added to his army. All while he got closer and closer to the orc King.
The most frustrating part was how different Ambrose felt now. It was as if he’d taken off any restraints, choosing to go all out in slaughtering them.
Which would be correct.
[You’ve acquired 32 B-Rank Aether cores so far.]
’And last I checked one is equal to how many coins?’
[1000.]
Ambrose’s pupils widened right when he stabbed a conjured frost sword through an orc’s heart. It tried fighting back, ripping out the icicle and attempting to stab him with it.
But a blast of burning ice to the head and it was lying headless on the ground, its blood spilling out.
’That’s thirty two thousand seduction coins.’ he could hardly believe it.
Yet he was also aware those numbers should’ve been more if he wasn’t fighting hard enough to destroy every part of the orcs, including, unfortunately, some of their cores.
[Total seduction coins: 41,050.]
"ENOUGH!" The Orc king roared in the Orc tongue just then.
The sound shattered the ground a few meters around him, sending shockwaves so powerful that even his soldiers paused.
He gripped his halberd with both hands, smoke rolling out of his mouth. "You are no god." He snarled before leaping into the air like an arrow.
Ambrose didn’t get the chance to think.
The very next second the orc king was upon him. He’d barely skidded backwards when the halberd struck, missing his feet by only a few deadly inches.
Ambrose’s heart hooked in his throat.
Another wild slash nearly cost him his head.
’Shit.’ He cursed mentally. ’Looks like I got him mad.’
[You think?]
Around the throne room, the surviving orcs roared. They beat their chests, hit their weapons together and chanted battle songs.
All to rile up their king even more.
A few phantoms rushed to the orc king, trying to help their master. But he was ruthless, grabbing one by the head.
BOOM!
Flames exploded from his palm, disintegrating the shadow soldier’s head clean. The rest of its body crumbled as well.
The sight was enough to make Ambrose re-evaluate his life choices.
"I am Beherath, King of the Mordak tribe." The orc king’s mouth parted wide.
Black flames erupted from his throat, heading straight at Ambrose without warning. The latter summoned an ice wall but it blew up instantly.
Two more ice walls and one flaming one later, Ambrose ended up rolling across the throne room floor, rasping for breath.
Heat resistance made the burns negligible. But his health points dropped drastically, only lowering further when his eyes slid to the system’s screen.
[HP: 2743/4100.]
[EP: 14,356/20,000.]
"I don’t care what you are," the orc king continued, running up to him before he could even catch his breath.
A kick slammed into Ambrose’s chest, sending him flying. He crashed onto a wall, plopping to the ground.
He could already taste the all too familiar metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His bones and muscles screamed with agony.
"... I will wear your skull as a trophy around my neck." The Orc King bellowed, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
Despite all his tricks... the human was still only just that.
Human.
He’d die by his blade like other fools before him.
’Aura.’ Ambrose slowly lifted his head. ’Pull up system shop. Category: S-Rank weapons.’
The orc king took his time advancing, dragging the blade of his halberd behind him. Black flames surrounded him as he took in the human one last time.
Once he was close enough, he raised the halberd.
However, as it descended with a force strong enough to make the air hiss—something equally heavy blocked it right before it could decapitate the human.
Beherath squinted.
Then his eyes bulged.
’... That’s... that’s impossible.’
