Mordred deftly reloaded the revolver before spraying its load onto the green horde. His accuracy was impeccable, with each shot, a goblin or gretchen’s brain splattered, further adding their corpse to the pile of mess. The hand that gripped the gun has already mutated, his weak human skin replaced by durable wyvern scales, much like his bulging muscles. The heightened senses of his mutation proved to be useful, as the lower-caste greenskins are already powerful enough to break the apprentice's defensive formation.
If not for the official Hunters watching over and occasionally thinning out the horde, the apprentices wouldn’t even last ten minutes.
“Satoru, both of your eyes have already changed colors. You shouldn’t push yourself!” Hiroshi warned. The youth’s strongest talent was not of his spirit, but leadership. His watchful eyes regularly swept the battlefield due to his role as the leader of the apprentices. It is his duty to allocate resources where they are needed the most. As the one who holds the most effective killing weapon, Mordred’s contributions were off the charts, but Hiroshi is worried that using it for prolonged duration will affect him.
In his perspective, Sakuya, who should be paying attention to the whole battle, is focusing on Mordred. He isn’t uneducated like most of the apprentices. As the son of Mira village’s chief, he has been taught by the elders of the village, including his own father and grandfather, on combat and politics. Even if Hiroshi is a newly awakened apprentice, a true life-and-death battle or two has taught him the importance of paying attention to the overall situation, so it isn’t strange that he is able to grasp the connection between Mordred’s condition and Sakuya’s undivided attention.
“ShUt THe fUcK uP! GRrrr…” Mordred’s voice has degenerated into a growl as the wyvern scales slowly climbed up from his arms onto his face. He seemed to be losing control, but his killing speed is not slowing down but accelerating even faster. If not for that, Hiroshi would’ve forcefully pulled him back by requesting the official Hunters.
Though in reality, Mordred has more mundane thoughts that he can only discuss with the demons within his phylactery. < The damn Techpriest is here. I can’t plunder souls freely… >
< A techpriest? > Astaroth frowned. From the abhorrence laced in her tone, it was obvious that she, as a demonic Bloodline Warlock, disliked techpriests in general. There’s no special reason for this, their existence is simply incompatible. It’s not like demons and divine envoys enjoy the company of each other.
< It’s that kid over there. > Mordred transferred the telepathic thoughts that indicated Klauss’ location. In the interior of his Soul Phylactery, there was a holographic screen that allows the two demons to see the material world from Mordred’s perspective. Beside the main screen, there was a smaller one that showcased radar-like findings from Mordred’s passive investigative method. < Although lacking the ability to sense souls, faith-path cultivators are still divine envoys. Through Klauss' eyes, the 'Machine God' Oppenheimer can witness the mortal realm. If we were unlucky enough by being seen plundering souls when he has his will descend upon Klauss, then we would be caught. >
< Would that be okay, Your Majesty? I share your sentiment, but uttering the Machine God’s name might inflict karmic retaliation. > Astaroth expressed concern.
< That’s fine, all rank 6 are somewhat immune to karmic retaliation from uttering a god’s name. > Mordred turned quiet when he sensed Klauss’ movement in the distance.
The techpriest activated one of the myriad mods in his body, gaining super acceleration for a brief period to enter his power armor. Clad in his combat attire, he took the orb which was absorbing lights from the outside world before leaving the mud-rock fortress in a flashy way.
‘Was that Sandevistan?’ Mordred was quite familiar with the energy undulation radiated by the techpriest before he left, or rather, the lack of one. Unlike spells, technological tools or internal body mods like the Sandevistan typically do not radiate energy undulation that can be picked up easily. ‘Has the Machine God’s influence spread in the Hartina Kingdom?’
Mordred inwardly shook his head. ‘It couldn’t be that I resurrected thousands of years after my ‘death’, right? The 4th Generation Brave is still the trend. Furthermore, the Hartina Kingdom has the Kyuubi, she wouldn’t allow any other divine envoys to spread their influence in her domain. I need to get more information on the calendar, but asking directly would be suspicious. I should kill someone and plunder their memories, then.’
Bang! Mordred’s ammunition finally ran out while he was distracted with his contemplation. He couldn’t shoot any more [Fireball] spells until Sakuya provided him with more catalyst. He holstered his weapon as he scanned the unending tide of green which has been thinned out by the official hunters. “I’ve run out of bullets, and it seems like this battle will go on until all the greenskins are dead.”
“That’s crazy, there’s like a thousand or so outside! Our arms would literally fall off before we kill half of them!” Tamiyo responded as she killed another gretchen with her sword. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion, each breath ragged as she struggled to keep her sword raised. Sweat poured down her face, mingling with the blood of her enemies. Despite her strength, the relentless battle had drained her energy, leaving her gasping for breath and wondering how much longer she could fight.
The sound of clashing weapons and grunts of exertion filled the air as Hiroshi relentlessly sent out commands. Sweat dripped down his forehead, blurring his vision as he struggled to keep up with the relentless attacks of the greenskins. As he looked out at the enemy ranks, he noticed a change in their movements. Their once steady advance had turned into a panicked retreat, their unified front crumbling before his eyes. The greenskins now moved in chaos, their fear palpable in the air. The attacks that were once fierce and unyielding had slowed, their momentum fading like the tide. From their elevated vantage point, Hiroshi and Mordred could see the terror in the greenskins' eyes, their morale shattered. Without hesitation, Twin Helix sprang into action, cutting down the panicked horde before they could regroup and launch a counter-attack, not desiring to trigger the cornered beast response from the remaining greenskins.
< Apprentices, fall back and recuperate. Leave the remaining battle to the professionals. > a telepathic broadcast was heard by every apprentice on the field.
Mordred and Hiroshi's gazes met and a silent exchange passed between them, confirming their decision. Without hesitation, Hiroshi issued a command for their team to fall back and make way for the official hunters. It was time for them to employ their specialized and dangerous methods, involving radioactive materials that were beyond the capabilities of apprentices.
With the Greenskin Mental Network’s antimagic field shredded, a bitter frost wind and sharp icy tides swept the battlefield, instantly plummeting the ambient temperature to a frigid -140 degrees Celsius. Had the apprentices not quickly retreated, they would have been transmuted into a frozen statue alongside their foes. With one fell swoop, Katyusha swept through the battleground like a force of nature, flower-like spikes of various shapes and sizes pierced the greenskins without mercy, ending their fickle life.
With the interior of the mud-rock fortress finally cleansed of greenskins, it was time to turn their attention to the remaining foes outside. The members of Twin Helix and Radiant Desolation moved with lightning speed and surgical precision, determined to eliminate the threat once and for all. Considering greenskins flesh-and-blood is the primary material for sustenance potions, cleaning up the battlefield was not just a matter of tidiness, but also a strategic move to recuperate the valuable resources they had expended in the fierce skirmish.
…
As the last remnants of the mud-rock fortress crumbled, Mordred's keen eyes scanned the battlefield, taking in the intricate details of Radiant Desolation's strategy. The temporary stronghold was a masterwork of engineering, composed of multiple layers that worked together seamlessly to protect the team. Mordred's thought was drawn to the outermost layer, which was laced with Li Xiaobai's ingenious light-path method.
It was able to gather photons and coalesce into a single point for later use, a dazzling display of Li Xiaobai's skill and mastery to support the member of his team, Klauss. Mordred couldn't help but be impressed by the techpriest's ingenuity and resourcefulness, especially considering the critical role the method played in the ork's assassination. His respect for Klauss only grew as he realized the full extent of the techpriest's abilities.
Most faith-path cultivators (divine envoys) cultivate faith-path as their primary, with their patron deity’s concept or paths as their secondary. It might be vice versa depending on various reasons, but this is generally the case for every divine envoy.
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As a priest of Oppenheimer, a refinement-path god and also the patron deity of Kaiserreich, Klauss is automatically a refinement-path cultivator himself. In the eyes of Mordred, his intelligent way to combine divine blessing and artifact is interesting because he had always wanted to understand the Machine God’s concept.
After all, the Great Archmage was also a refinement-path expert.
‘Hmm, I’m getting sidetracked again.’ Mordred shook his head as he focused on the task at hand. “Hiroshi, aren’t these people so timid compared to our Mira village? I feel like my fist could break their skull.” He raised a question to the youth beside him who were given the similar task of deboning greenskins.
Dismantling corpses was one of Hunter’s most important skills other than actually hunting beasts, therefore, Twin Helix’s vice-captain instructed the potential recruits they headhunted to be taught this important skill.
“I wouldn’t say timid, but more like not used to the life of a hunter.” Hiroshi explained. “Our Mira village is close to three tiny Resource Points, err, you can consider them as a beast nest or dangerous area where hostile races gather. Due to the hostile creatures occasionally leaving the said resource points, our homes are exposed to perpetual dangers. To survive, our people have to hunt actively, so our way of life is rather similar to the Hunters of the Association.”
He added, “From what I heard, Remaki village where they originated from is nestled deep within a labyrinthine maze of craggy outcroppings, their home carefully guarded by a herd of ‘docile’ mountain goat beasts. But don't let their gentle nature fool you - the goat beasts were once subjugated by the village's forebearers, then bred over generations to be pliant protectors of the clan. Unlike the wild goat beasts that we know, these creatures have been tamed through generations of careful breeding and training.”
“So these milk drinkers are spirit cultivator apprentices?” Mordred raised his eyebrow. “Future enslavement-path experts?”
“Something like that. It’s a damn shame that they couldn’t participate in the defense because their talent wouldn’t shine without enslaved beasts to fight for them.” Hiroshi's gaze drifted to the pile of bones at Mordred's feet, evidence of his skillful butchery. “In any case, you're quite the expert at this.”
Mordred chuckled at the comment, tossing another bone aside. "I've had to learn how to survive on scraps," he replied, "so I know my way around a bone or two." The two fell into easy banter, the camaraderie of battle easing the tension between them.
It was until late night that Mordred had his own free time. He is not aware of the situation between Radiant Desolation and Twin Helix as he is busy with his own matters.
< 14 greenskins souls… Your Majesty, isn’t this too low? > Astaroth reported after being instructed to perform an inventory of the Phylactery. In the interior of the grim world where souls could exist in perpetuity, there were fourteen additional inhabitants. The newcomer count was too low for a battle of that scale, it was as if Mordred purposely chose to drink the soup while ignoring the meat.
< It's Sumire and Katyusha. Those two were collecting souls themselves. > Mordred spectral visage in the phylactery shrugged helplessly. < With them collecting at their own acceptable pace while hiding it from the techpriest, I can only lure a small portion of them to my phylactery. Otherwise, they’ll notice it. >
Mordred did not think too much about why Katyusha and Sumire collected souls, which should be heresy in the eyes of the divine and their envoys. Undead are universally hated, but they are even more so by the divines. However, Hunters have their own secrets, and Mordred is aware that Katyusha is also secretly using undead as minions. Therefore, it isn’t strange for her to have an accomplice in the team.
Though, he wondered what would Sumire do with souls since she is a wisdom-path mage.
< The fourteen souls are too few. Are you planning to use them for a breakthrough, Your Majesty? > Astaroth inquired.
< No, even tens of gretchens souls wouldn’t elevate my soul foundation by 5-man soul. It’s like making bastion walls out of fine sand, they are not effective. I’m thinking of using them to refine my own little helper. ‘Satoru’ is a Tyrant Wyverian, after all. It’ll be hard to discern whether or not ‘my’ wyvern slaves are possessed by spectral entities. >
He was inspired by Katyusha’s method of infusing Spectral Souls into ice golems. It was somewhat familiar with his own method of creating an army of Living Armors back when he was invading other worlds as the Great Archmage. He, for one, is not someone who is fond of using enslavement-path battle tactics - using numbers for a battle of attrition. On the contrary, he thrives when fighting against someone using slaves to exhaust him. However, creating an elite helper is something that has its own uses.
In the physical world, his body is meditating peacefully in his tent, but in reality, his focus was put inside his Soul Phylactery where a projection of his truesoul stood on an empty lot. Sandwiched between a 2-meter tall demonic-dragon humanoid and a ghastly apparition of a female humanoid, Mordred scanned the fourteen pitiful greenskins souls.
“What approach are you planning to take now, Your Majesty?” Astaroth humbly inquired, expectations shimmering on her eyes. The Bloodline Warlock has an insatiable hunger towards knowledge, especially those that could be gained from her permanent employer.
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Survival of the Fittest’?” Mordred’s lips curved upwards as he recalled a warm memory of someone he held dear, before waving his arm. “Rank 0 soul-path killer move, [Soulful Epiphany]!”
The two demons could see that Mordred’s truesoul shrunk noticeably to produce a wave of smoke that engulfed the fourteen greenskins. These souls mimic what they were in real life, only having see-through texture as if they were mirages. After being engulfed by the smoke, their eyes slowly gleam in intelligence as they glance at each other.
“I have one slot. Figure it out amongst yourself.” Mordred gave a verdict.
The greenskins souls glanced upon each other, unsure about what that meant. He did not give them a time limit on whatever they should be doing nor details about what they should do in the first place, but after looking at each other and discussing about ganging Mordred up, their souls started to melt. More specifically, their souls started to evaporate really slowly, with spikes growing out of their body in random places that further accelerated the rate of disintegration.
Like animals, it was pain that allowed them to understand that the ‘slot’ Mordred meant was he can only spare, if that can even be called mercy, one out of the fourteen. With the threat of having their soul completely evaporating or collapsing from the spikes which have infiltrated their beings, the greenskins begin to fight it out amongst themselves. There are no weapons here, so they have to kill each other with their fist, teeth, nails, et cetera.
“It’s such a shame that they are not flesh-and-blood.” The brutal scene of an unusually united race turning against each other was an entertainment for the Demon Great Duke. She was fond of gore and betrayal.
She turned her attention away towards Asmodeus after noticing Mordred was busy chanting inaudibly with his eyes closed. “Your Majesty, my comprehension ability is incapable of understanding His Majesty’s method. Might I ask you to elaborate on its profundity?”
“Hmm.” Asmodeus' blurry figure shrugged, thinking that keeping up the silence would be even more boring. “[Soulful Epiphany] killer move is actually a multipath method based on wisdom-path with soul-path as the core. The effect should be granting others a portion of his wisdom. To mortals or lesser cultivators without his experience and memories, it’ll be like suddenly having the perspective of a genius amongst heavenly geniuses, or a cheater amongst cheaters. Complex problems that require deep pondering are much easier, as if the hands of fate are guiding you from your shoulders.”
Astaroth raised her eyes in surprise. “If I can get my hands on that method, wouldn’t I be able to create an endless clone army?”
The Demon King shook her head. “The smoke produced by the killer move consists of bits of his truesoul. In other words, he is using his own truesoul as soul art resources. Since one of your core concepts is also corruption, tell me, would you be willing to eat a piece of his truesoul if you were given a chance?
“I…” Astaroth shuddered, realizing her mistake. The methods used by kings are always profound beyond the comprehension of mortals. Even she, an splintered soul of an Epic, couldn’t clearly grasp the profundity behind it. “My corruption wouldn’t be able to corrupt His Majesty’s corruption. In the end, I'll be corrupted by his ego and become his slave.”
“That’s right.” Asmodeus points towards the seven remaining greenskins souls. Those who died are being devoured by those who survive, and those who survive are trying to devour everyone else. It was truly a brutal battle where one’s will and ego are being tested under the pressure of survival. “This is what he meant by ‘Survival of the Fittest’. He’s not trying to find the strongest, the most agile, nor the smartest soul, but simply the one that fits his strict criterion. Perhaps, the one that could utilize his wisdom to the fullest? We might never know.”
After Asmodeus spoke her piece, there’s only four remaining greenskins souls. Each of their appearances have changed terribly compared to their first arrival. No longer small, hunchbacked or fragile, these spectral beings are more human-like and intelligent than they could ever be in their lifetime. They were also no longer relying on brute force but trying their best to kill each other with the most effective method, such as using their nails to gouge the opponent's eyes, not hesitating to kick balls, or other unusual tactics.
“Are you done?” Mordred finally opened his eyes, reflecting the state of which the final ghost-like being successfully ate its kin.
The single survivor took a knee, but Astaroth felt its appearance eerie to the point of triggering the uncanny valley effect.
“Let me introduce you.” Asmodeus smirked, seemingly seeing the surviving spectral being as a way out of boredom. “This is Grimsong Specter’s ‘First Generation’ soul slave.”