Chapter 6: Indra’s Wrath

“Rest assured.

The sword of the Lord will descend quickly upon the earth.”

- Spoken to the followers in the Temple of Indra.

A streak of blue rushed across the plaza.

“Supreme God Art: Atlas.”

An almond hue suffused Marco’s skin, and he leaped over the horizontal swing aiming to cleave him in half. Crumbs jammed his sword into the ground. But his momentum was too great for an immediate followup. He slid to a standstill.

Marco landed on the other side of their makeshift arena and waved his arms. Bolts of fire split from the walls of flame, which shot after the Half-wolf.

Crumbs snaked between two constructs. So that's his plan. A tier-one earth technique to strengthen his body and keep his distance while he pressured me with his fires.

Everyone had a total of three attribute options. Atlas his art required at least one earth slot to activate. Ignis his hell cost another, which left one more free space. Double earth? Crumbs bit his lips. Possible, but wouldn't make sense since Atlas his second tier allowed flight. Why wouldn't he utilise that if he had the choice? Perhaps he still needed to learn it. Could also be due to a low mana pool.

Instincts said otherwise. Either he's double fire or keeping another card close to his chest.

The Half-wolf pounced from side to side. He spun with the weight of his greatsword and launched himself like a spring, gravel flying everywhere. He sliced through an arrow of flame, his motion continuing until his blade tried to hug the nape of Marco’s neck.

Marco’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, his mouth murmured a spell, and he vanished. He reappeared in the middle of the air and tumbled to the ground, his reinforced limbs kicking up a cloud of dust after he touched down.

Crumbs his gaze tracked Marco during the entire movement like a predator. That wind art had no attribute requirements. But if he went through the trouble of using it…

He’s definitely not double earth.

A plan formed in Crumbs his head. One which he put into action immediately. His form blurred. Marco was up and ready. The half-wolf took two steps, closing more than a third of the distance, then threw his weapon. It was fast. Too fast for Marco to do anything but teleport away—into the middle of the air where he couldn’t move.

Claws dug into the earth as Crumbs went on all fours. He hurled himself, homing in on Marco faster than he could utter his next incantation, and his fist slammed into the half-baked cross-guard Marco placed his arms in.

The splintering of Marco’s forearm joined the song of fire in the background, and cheap metal crumbled when his body got launched through his own inferno and into the shutters of a store.

Instead of chasing after Marco, Crumbs recovered his blade. He looked over at Eva. Through the miracles of fate, the statue was still intact.

Let’s hope your luck keeps up, girl.

An explosion destroyed what remained of the store's protection, sending it skidding over the ground. Marco stepped out of the rubble, cradling his spasming arm on which small streaks of thunder were visible.

“Not finishing me there was hubris. Ever the downfall of your kind.”

“Are you done?” Crumbs asked, ignoring the statement. Let Marco believe what he wants.

“Far from it,” he grinned. Blood dripped down Marco’s gums, painting his teeth. “What’s wrong, half-wolf, getting scared of what I have up my sleeve?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Crumbs scoffed.

“Unlike you, I’m an adult. Not everybody has the time to play along with your personal vendetta, Marco.”

“My vendetta?”

Marco chuckled, the flames around him rising and falling to the rhythm of his laughter.

“The entirety of your kind is a blight on our existence! Anyone with the power to do so would gladly wipe you out.”

“You think the Balancers cannot exterminate us? All that heat is rising to your head, Marco.”

Balancers were the strongest pureblood sorcerers in Dagon under the direct authority of the city. It would've been so if the government wanted halfs and quarters gone.

Marco gave a dismissive wave.

“They lack the heart. Especially that destruction cockroach at the top.”

Crumbs recharged the lightning around his frame and weapon as Marco held his monologue.

“True change requires a harder hand. A champion who doesn’t shy away from doing the dirty work.”

“Ah, of course. Marco, ordained warrior of the Gods—“

Crumbs rolled his eyes.

“—don’t make me laugh. You’re not even blessed by a Primal.”

That got a reaction from the devotee. He crushed his monocular and slammed it on the floor. Flames rushed to his side. Their gathering was more chaotic than before, the heat wafting off the forming ball screaming. Marco flung his spell.

Too slow. Crumbs dashed forwards—

The fireball teleported right in front of him. With a sharp inhalation of breath, Crumbs sidestepped onto a single leg and used his sword for balance. The flames passed so close the ends of his whiskers incinerated. But he had dodged it. His neck whipped towards Marco…and he came face to face with the blade-point of a dozen spears.

One whirred past his head. He curved like a ballerina around another few. But he had to bite through the pain when his upper thighs and abdomen got penetrated clean through. Kneecaps impacted the ground. His heart raced, and Crumbs made to rise. His muscles gave, though, and he dropped back down.

The Half-wolf was forced to peer from below at Marco’s red-plastered grin.

“You see? Ignis is enough to deliver justice to you dogs.”

Crumbs heaved for breath, spitting out a fat phlegm of blood. Gods, he was so sick of this. He exhaled, staring at the myriad of stars decorating the sky.

His voice was a whisper.

“You purebloods don’t have the right to speak of justice.”

Humans could enter the academy or buy a book and borrow the arts of a God or Primal to defend themselves.

Saffron eyes wandered to the right, where Erregar’s shadow loomed over an innocent girl, ready to reap and wheat. She put up a fight. Yet, in the end, there was nothing she could do. There was no one to teach her the arts of her clan: Inferior Shuras were mindless beasts, and Superior Shuras—well, even if they lived in the same realm, they would consider pissing in her food a waste of time.

Crumbs his feet planted on the floor. This system was rigged aeons before we were born. No one would stand up and protect them.

Thighs wobbling, the Half-wolf rose to his full height. He pointed his blade forward.

“Beyond this blade’s edge is a field”—thunder roiled, shrouding Crumbs as it ate away at the atmosphere—“your so-called justice will meet you there."

Marco scoffed.

“Murderers who cry about punishment. Now, you’re the one trying to crack me up.”

“Talking with you is worthless.”

“Agreed,” Marco said. He held his hand in front of him, palm turned upward.

“Hell Maximum.”

Fire gathered within Marco's hand. All of it. They fled the streets and buildings, rotating like tornadoes and leaving behind charred husks. The suction force drew in loose pebbles. And then, a meteorite formed above Marco, which cast half of the plaza in its shadow.

Radiating heat seared Crumbs his open wounds, cauterising them where he stood. The Half-wolf’s face was blank. He crouched slightly, raising his blade arm into the air.

Crumbs his voice crackled, his words shocking any who heard.

“Allow me to show you the difference between real sorcery and that imitation you’re so proud of.”

“Sky Flash.”

There was no sign of what was coming. Clouds didn’t converge, and rain didn’t fall upon the earth. One moment, the skies were clear. The other, a lance of lightning crashed down upon Crumbs his greatsword.

It was as if Indra himself had cast it from the realm of Gods, and the Half-wolf stood underneath His wrath, absorbing every part of it. What the special material in his sword didn’t attract went straight into his cells. His fur changed colour, transforming from turquoise into a deep purple. His digits trembled, limbs begging him to let go of his blade. Crumbs clutched the hilt tighter.

There was a pause wherein lightning clashed with the superheated discharge of the comet, both elements vying for dominion.

Crumbs his legs tensed.

The veins on Marco’s palm pulsed.

“Begone, vermin.”

The falling star imploded. It engulfed the arena in a hue of red, swallowing everything faster than the eye could follow.

But to Crumbs, it may as well have been standing still. The Half-wolf charged. In this domain of speed, the universe was soundless. Wind slapped against his face, but the sensation didn't last long enough for Crumbs to feel it. The edge of his blade dove into the waves of fire. They split as if to grant him passage.

And then he was in front of Marco.

He took his last steadying step. The ground gave, but so did his ankle, not used to the enormous pressure forced upon it. Crumbs yelped, but it, too, was soundless. His aim swayed, and the sword stroke that would've bisected Marco cleanly only cleaved him at the shoulder. Crumbs wanted to turn on one foot, but force was not so easily moved. He smashed into the floor.

The thunder powering his blade and body vanished, the God’s rage quelled, and sound returned to his ears—

An echo of an explosion rang across the plaza, evaporating all it touched.