Edgar rose into the sky, dodging lightning bolts left and right. Then he slammed his arms down against the empty sky. Pillars of pure force descended like the wrath of a god, pulping thousands of enemy soldiers in an instant.
Jonathan raced off, stamina coursing through his veins and muscles. He almost stumbled as his body shuddered, but he reined it in with his Tier 3 corporeal mastery. He was his own weapon, and weapons did not break under such paltry stress. Until he died, there was no surrender.
Like a shard of speed itself, he streaked across the battlefield, the ground vanishing beneath his all consuming stride. The Void flared around him, a cloak of pure purple flapping in a nonexistent astral wind. Revenge was in the air, and he was all too happy to deliver.
His fists flew out like tiny stars as he slammed into the nearest group of enemies, moving so quickly that most of them hadn’t even had time to turn to face him. One fist buried itself in a fighter’s gut, and another whipped around in a tight arc, bludgeoning three of the soldiers at once. All of those struck died instantly, armor doing little against Jonathan’s strength.
He let loose the chains on his Void mastery, and a quagmire of purple energy appeared around him, dissolving anything that came close. With every passing second, it grew and grew, and a corona of colorless light formed, far more dangerous than the visible part of the technique. Jonathan had become a weapon, and he knew how to wield the power of the Void to the greatest extent possible.
Rather than punch, he simply zigzagged across the battlefield, using his cloak of consumption to destroy anyone he came near. It extended out for nearly fifty feet, and anything that came within it was quickly stripped of all substance, turned to nothing but ash on the wind, and finally, nothingness.
Jonathan killed thousands like this, and within the span of a single minute. Against hordes of lower level fighters, his abilities were like the scythe of Death itself, manifesting to punish those in his way. The only person more suited to such a task was Edgar, who had wide ranging area of effect skills that could butcher almost as many fighters as he could set eyes on. Under the System, skills were only as powerful as the user. A Common skill could be used to destroy a city if its wielder was powerful enough.
Jonathan made his way towards his beleaguered allies, forced into a small circle of shields and spears, trying to hold out against the tide. There were still tens of thousands of Slothari’s legionaires left, and even with the deaths of their leaders, they remained fighting. It was similar to the behavior of the Dread Legion of the Ash Heaps. Death was infinitely preferable to whatever Slothari did to deserters.
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Essence trickled into him as he fought, but at his current level of power, levels came slower than normal, especially due to his Great Treasure. It was a bit hard to tell, but it also seemed that his relative leveling rate was slowing down a bit too. In Tier 1, killing something at a certain amount of power compared to him would have granted him a specific number of levels, but in Tier 3, that number would be significantly less. Of course it was natural that leveling speed would slow down as one climbed the Tiers. Otherwise, there would be hordes of demigods running around.
As he fought, Jonathan found himself sinking into a trance, the task ahead of him so easy that he hardly needed his mind present. All he really needed to do was to remember where his allies were so as to not kill them with his own technique. With his high stats, doing so was child’s play.
The rest of the army was soon mopped up by the efforts of Edgar and Jonathan, with the surviving elites quickly dying to Hushar and Eva. Corpses littered the plain, so many that one could have built a pyramid out of their skulls. There were fewer there than could have been as well, with many turned into vapor by Jonathan’s Void energy.
There was no level waiting for him at the end of the fight, but everyone else had leveled up, Eva most of all. She had gained nine entire levels from that fight, the result of battling those at a significantly higher level.
“What were the losses?” Jonathan found himself asking Kendal, who had taken the role of Edgar’s lieutenant.
The elderly fire mage’s face was blank, but he responded quickly enough. “About three hundred of our fighters. It was a bit jarring after our successes on our journey here. I was almost hoping that we could survive until the gates of the Oozing Bastion itself.”
“I know it means little to those who died, but we did fight off a force almost thirty times greater than our own,” Jonathan replied.
“Their deaths will certainly go down in legend, but the fact remains that if this continues, there will be nobody alive save for you and your closest allies. It will be like my soldiers had never existed.”
Jonathan wasn’t sure what to say to this, but Edgar quickly stepped in. “Was this not what you wanted in coming with us? A chance at killing Slothari, and failing that, a worthy death?”
“It was, but now that I’ve seen the strength you have attained, I find myself yearning for more than simply death. I might have been strong for where I was, but compared to you, I am nothing.”
“Do you want more power? For you and your men?” Jonathan interjected.
“Of course we do. Right now, most of my followers are only a bit stronger than the fighters we have to face. Considering the numbers we have to face, that isn’t good enough.”
Jonathan nodded. “Very well. Let’s stop and hunt for a bit. It might help to shore up our weaknesses before the Oozing Bastion.”
“How do you propose we do that?” Kendal said, looking around. “This is the weakest region of Mire.”
“There are plenty of powerful monsters here. It’s just that the average level is low. In fact, if you wait here, I can go and fetch some to fight.”
Kendal raised an eyebrow. “Very well.”