Chapter 154: One Punch for a Divine Scion

Cassian had no time for jokes.

"I need to reach this position within a minute. With your strength now, how many can you take?"

Everyone understood at once.

Liora made a quick calculation. Her expression grew serious.

"Six, including me."

"Good. Prepare the Teleport."

While she laid out the runes, Cassian found himself thinking about the way things had turned out.

Seraphine had put the Marches first and given him Seven-Star Release. Then Lyra had run into danger, and now he was going to save her.

Perhaps there really was something to fate.

He smiled to himself. He had thought he was getting the better end of the gift exchange. Now he was returning the favor as well, and the three bottles of Life Water were still gone.

Saving Lyra was only part of his reason for going. If he killed the Divine Scion, he would gain points while removing a rival. His chance of taking the Gold Battle Name would rise by another five percentage points.

A little over ten seconds later, the Teleport flashed.

Cassian, Liora, Celia, and Crystal Nine, One, and Ten vanished from the circle. The three Maidens were in human form.

Three thousand kilometers later, Liora drank a bottle of Life Water and began laying out the next Teleport.

——

"Two minutes" could mean many things.

Sometimes it meant one. Sometimes nine. If a restaurant said the food would be ready in two minutes, it might mean half an hour.

Cassian’s promise had given the others hope, but none of them could settle down. They stopped hunting, afraid that the next message would announce Lyra’s death.

Lyra herself dared not hope for much. She knew Cassian was eight thousand kilometers away.

Without the threat of her Divine Arsenal Corps, she doubted she could have held out for five minutes.

The Divine facing her was slender, no taller than an ordinary Human. He spoke as though they were discussing something of little importance.

"Beautiful Human lady. If the outcome cannot change, what is the point of resisting?"

Neroth Thalor regarded her calmly.

"Let me kill you and help me take the Gold Battle Name. I’ll forgive your earlier offense. Once I leave this battlefield, I’ll compensate your family generously."

His voice cooled.

"Keep resisting, and when I stand above the worlds, I’ll destroy your entire family."

This was the Divine Scion who had terrified the battlefield over the past two days.

He even had a squad of Legendary Tyrants. Perhaps he had been lucky enough to find a Legendary Troop Sigil.

Tyrants were the ultimate Troll troop line. They were slow, but immensely tough.

Lyra laughed in his face.

"You need tricks just to kill me, and you expect to rule the worlds? Are you trying to make me laugh myself to death?"

She had stopped being afraid. If she could not escape, she could at least take a few enemies with her.

"Get on with it. Let’s see how many I can kill before I go down."

She called to her troops.

"Fivefold Guard! Divine Arsenal Corps! Ready!"

Both were famous Epic lines from Moonlit Dominion. The Fivefold Guard specialized in close combat. The Divine Arsenal Corps fought at range. Years of refinement had brought the latter close to the ranks of Extreme troops.

Twelve of them concentrating their fire could kill a Legendary troop of the same Level in a single volley.

Neroth frowned.

When he first found Lyra, he had taken her for easy prey and attacked at once. Her troops’ concentrated fire had nearly killed him.

That fright had taught him caution. He had followed her while gathering every subordinate he had scattered to hunt. Now he finally had her cornered.

Lords were scarce on the second floor. She would be worth well over a hundred thousand points, perhaps two hundred thousand. He could not simply let her leave.

But a direct assault might cost him some of the Legendary troops he had worked so hard to raise.

He considered it for another moment, then made his decision.

"All of you. Kill her."

Four Epic Heroes, twelve Tyrants, and dozens of Soulhunters—the Divines’ well-known Epic troop line—moved together.

Neroth advanced behind them. As a Divine Scion, his own strength was no less than a Legendary Hero’s.

The battle was about to begin when both Lords looked toward the ground between them.

Intricate runes were appearing out of thin air, as though an invisible mage were drawing them at great speed.

A large circle formed. Figures stepped out of it.

"Cassian!"

Lyra could hardly believe her eyes.

Just over a minute. Eight thousand kilometers in a little over a minute?

Could this be Eight Thousand Miles of Cloud and Moon, the famous art of House Venn’s homeland? People said he and Lydia Venn were on very good terms.

Cassian glanced over the battlefield and paused.

"You haven’t started yet? Am I early?"

Lyra’s joy faltered as she counted the people with him.

"Commander, Seraphine told you what we’re facing, didn’t she? This is all you brought?"

She stared at him.

"Are you here to save me or die with me?"

Neroth had recovered from his surprise. Delight spread across his face.

"Good. Very good. Two second-floor Lords. Even if I lose a Tyrant or two, this will be worthwhile."

"Divine Scion Neroth?" Cassian asked. "How many points do you have?"

Neroth’s smile vanished.

The question was casual. The contempt behind it was not. This Human was already treating his death as a settled matter.

"Never mind. I’ll find out when I kill you."

Cassian shook his head and spoke quietly.

"Origin Divine Fist."

"Kill me?" Neroth sneered. "If you know I’m a Divine Scion, you should know what our race requires of—"

A terrible sense of danger cut him short.

The golden fist rushing toward him carried the first true promise of death he had ever felt.

"You treacherous bastard!"

He roared. His body expanded into a ten-meter giant wrapped in bone armor, radiating the pressure of a ruler.

This was the battle form of a higher Divine. His strongest form.

"Ancestral Sacred Fist, Third Form—Undying Nirvana!"

His art had barely taken shape when Cassian’s fist reached him.

"No!"

Gold and black power collided. The violent surge swept a kilometer around them, carrying the Divine Scion’s furious cry.

It took more than ten seconds for the energy to disperse.

"Worthy of a Divine Scion," Cassian said. "A-grade Aptitude and Ancestral Sacred Fist. Without that little tactic, I’d have needed at least half my strength to kill him in one strike. This way, thirty percent was enough."

The kill report had already appeared.

Another enemy dead from one punch.

"This is starting to feel familiar."

A thought struck him. He reached up to check his hair, then relaxed.

"Good. Getting stronger hasn’t made me bald."

With the enemy leader dealt with, Cassian turned toward Lyra.

"Lyra? What’s wrong?"