Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 416: Layer Of The Game

The very next second, both of them began falling from the sky. The black wings on Valentine’s back had already vanished, dissolving into nothingness, while Azaron had ceased flying through gravity manipulation. At this moment, gravity as a concept reasserted itself, forcefully dragging both of them back toward the earth below. Even so, neither of them slowed their assault. They continued to exchange attacks midair without hesitation, without restraint, and without a single thought spared for what awaited them beneath.

Within mere seconds, they reached the ground. Their feet slammed into the earth below, carving a massive crater as they sank into it without any attempt to cushion their descent. Sand, stone, dust, and shattered rock thundered upward in an explosive wave the moment they landed, the impact echoing across the surrounding landscape like the roar of a falling star.

In the next instant, screams pierced the air.

Both of them heard it at the same time, and both of them immediately understood what kind of screams they were. These were human screams, not the shrieks of an Emovira nor the cries of a beast. They had landed at the border of a noble territory. Yet neither of them cared. Their focus remained locked solely on one another, the battle eclipsing everything else that existed beyond it in that very moment.

Like vanishing blurs, like phantoms tearing through reality itself, they ran across the massive walls of the noble territory, entering it without the slightest care or remorse. The residents never even saw them. Their speed was far beyond mortal perception. Yet the shockwaves and explosive pressure generated by their mere movement were more than enough to level the entire city in an instant. Houses were torn apart as though made of paper. Violent winds slammed into men, women, and children alike, their bodies hurled into walls, streets, and collapsing structures as the city was reduced to ruin.

Azaron’s concentration fractured the moment he noticed the devastation unfolding around him, wrought by his clash with Valentine. Although he sought enjoyment in battle, it did not mean he would casually slaughter millions for the sake of it. That had never been his intent. With that realization, his movements shifted as he attempted to redirect the battlefield elsewhere.

But Valentine had been nothing but calculative throughout the entirety of this fight.

Would he change the battlefield simply because Azaron wanted to? Not a chance. He was an assassin, through and through. Killing millions meant nothing to him. Besides, Azaron was the one who had initiated this battle in the first place. The incoming deaths of these countless lives should rest squarely on his head. With that thought, Valentine disengaged, his body tearing backward as he created distance between himself and Azaron.

Azaron did not allow it. He erased the distance immediately, his presence bearing down immediately.

With a single thought from Valentine, the entirety of the noble territory was swallowed by pure darkness and shadow. In the very next second, every shadow twisted violently, morphing into razor sharp crescent shaped blades. They surged outward in all directions, moving to sever and shred every citizen and resident within the territory without discrimination.

Azaron’s golden eyes narrowed instantly at the sight. Astra energy erupted from his Astra veins as he tapped into his Nebula affinity. Reality itself responded.

The world seemed to blink and in an instant, everything inverted. Above became below, and below became above. Azaron inverted the entirety of the space beneath them, forcibly pushing every resident skyward, ripping them free from the mass slaughter Valentine had set in motion.

The residents blinked in confusion as they suddenly found themselves suspended in the sky. They could not understand what was happening. One moment, something catastrophic had landed near their territory, the shockwaves and earthquakes shaking their city to its core. The next, their homes were destroyed, violent forces slamming into them. Then darkness swallowed everything. And now, now they were here, floating helplessly above the ruined land.

At this moment, all were equally powerless. Nobles, commoners, adventurers, it made no difference. None of them could see or comprehend what was happening, nor could they understand who or what was responsible for this unfolding calamity.

Below, Azaron stood within the noble territory, which was still smothered beneath Valentine’s darkness. The world around him was pitch black, the shadows suffocating every ray of light. Yet Azaron did not care. His golden eyes tore through the darkness as though it never existed. Around him, the crescent shaped blades of shadow continued to clash violently against his body and armor, striking again and again.

Azaron did not block, he did not move, these attacks had never been meant for him. They were designed to butcher the residents of the territory. Against him, they were laughably weak, incapable of injuring him or even leaving a mark upon the armor he wore.

Valentine stared at Azaron with a knowing smirk.

In the next instant, he vanished, his body reappeared high in the sky, a short blade already tearing toward the neck of one of the floating residents. But before the blade could touch flesh, Azaron was already there. Ender, his soul bound weapon, intercepted the strike with effortless ease.

Valentine did not pause. He vanished again, flickering into existence before another resident, attempting the same lethal motion. Once more, Azaron was there to block it. Again and again, Valentine repeated the tactic, him attempting to kill, Azaron intervening to save.

Yet Azaron did more than simply intercept the attacks. Each time Valentine struck, Azaron wrapped the intended victim in a barrier of Astra energy. He knew that even the mere collision of their weapons midair was enough to erase a human body completely, even if Valentine failed to land the killing blow.

Valentine’s eyes shifted toward Azaron, gauging his reaction, watching closely to see whether his plan was taking effect. Yet all he saw was Azaron chasing after him with a wide, almost delighted grin stretched across his face.

Valentine had targeted the residents to provoke anger, to force Azaron into a mistake born of rage or distraction. But Azaron was not falling for it.

And why would he?

To Azaron Wargrave, this was simply another layer of the game, another dimension of their battle. If Valentine wished to make the fight more complex, more chaotic, more wicked, then who was he to complain? In fact, he welcomed it. He hoped Valentine would escalate even further, would sink into something darker still, because greater pressure only made the battle more exhilarating, more pleasurable, and far more worthy of their clash.