Back in the academy, the avatar seamlessly settled into a daily routine. 'He' would frequent the usual classes and mingle with the students and professors, they did not even notice the change, it was like Raphael never left. The cloning technique was flawlessly created.
He was still attending as many classes as possible to absorb knowledge as well as general information as Raphael had instructed. His primary objective was after all to gather information.
The information 'he' was absorbing would not be felt by Raphael in real time, but as soon as he thought on it, it will come flooding to his mind.
...
The sight of fiery devastation stirred something inside of him. The mage in the middle, who was probably leading the charge was a demigod, a stage 6 at that. The realisation stirred his calm heart, it skipped a beat as a crooked grin graced his features. Without missing a beat, he dashed out of the inn in an instant, appearing high up in the sky.
His actions immediately drew the robed individuals' attention. The first one to notice him was the man who had acted as a central point for the spell.
The others failed to notice him at first not because they did not want to. He had simply moved to fast for the naked eye. It was only after noticing the subtle shift in their leader's expression and posture that they looked up.
All they saw was a 'man' wearing a sleek black mask and grey pants. His chest was bare, revealing a sculpted torso that spoke of both strength and agility. The subtle lines of his ribcage were defined, accentuated by the soft glow of the setting sun. His shoulders were broad yet elegant, tapering down to a trim waist that highlighted his athletic build.
Each muscle was finely honed, with the gentle curves of his pectorals suggesting both power and grace. The slight dips and ridges along his abdomen formed a set of lean abs, disciplined and taut, each line telling a story of dedication and hard work. His arms, lightly muscled and strong, hung relaxed at his sides, showcasing forearms that hinted at both capability and ease.
The twelve robed individuals immediately put their guards up as they stared at Raphael. Despite the fact that he was giving of no aura at all, they could feel it in the depths of their souls. The air occasionally distorted around the edges of his skin as if in silent worship. The air was slowly growing thick with bloodlust.
Suddenly they all out felt like prey in front of a predator. Rio, the demigod frowned. Unlike the weaklings behind him, he could clearly sense Raphael's rank. As such, he could not understand how he could feel threatened by someone who was 5 whole sub ranks below him.
Though it was possible in the lower ranks, the higher you went you would know that it was almost impossible to battle above your sub rank. The gaps only got bigger. 'Well almost impossible.'
His rank though, was the least of their concerns, 'There is no one who fits that description from our files. He is a wildcard, has this kingdom been hiding experts for a situation exactly like this one. That's a cause for concern, we might need to tread more carefully than intended'.
Though Rio wore a robe with a hoodie on it, His features were noticeable beneath it He had raven black hair, a sharp jaw on his face and a dark sunbathed complexion. Other than his otherwise unspectular appearance, he was rather calm. He looked to be in his thirties.Words were yet to be spoken between them. And yet, they all knew they were about to fight for their lives. Two familiar faces, Urek and Thorne stood silently behind the demigod along with the others.
Thorne took a knee and bowed in respect before speaking his mind.
"My lord, please let this humble servant show this peasant his place."
Raphael shifted his gaze to Thorne. The light caressed the angular contours of his form, creating shadows that danced along his sides, adding depth to his lean frame. Every inch of him emanated a quiet confidence, a perfect balance of strength and finesse.
Thorne trembled; his hairs stood on end as his life flashed before his eyes. Cold sweat matted his back as he looked up, trying to meet Raphael's eyes, only to get lost in the avid swirl in his amethyst eyes. A second later, he let out a guttural scream as he brought his palms to his eyes,
"Ahhhhhh!!!! My eyes
ahhhhhh!!!! uuuurgh!!!,
Noooo!!! stay away don't come any closer!!"
His Pupils ignited in a dark flame that quickly extended to his whole head. This all happened in less than a second. Another second later, his whole frame was in flames.
His screams only became louder, transforming into a chilling, high-pitched wail that echoed through the air, piercing the air around them. The scream was raw and primal, filled with a mix of agony and helplessness that sent shivers down the spines of everyone who heard it.
The demigod made an attempt to extend his presence to snuff out the flame, only for the dark flames to flash toward him. He quickly withdrew his presence and zoomed back a step in a flash. Surprise colored his features as he snapped his head back to Raphael. only to find the same dark mask and calm posture.
The group all released a uniform audible hiss as they watched their companion slowly burn to ash. In a moment, there was nothing left of Thorne.
Raphael looked on towards the demigod and spoke "Name yourself"
Surprisingly, the man answered calmly "I simply go by Rio, Rio of The Anarchist Syndicate. And who might you be?" From his composed reply, one would have thought he had not just lost a core member of his group.
Apart from the initial surprise he had shown, he was rather calm.
Seeing their leader's confidence, the members of The Anarchist Syndicate fell in line and got back in order behind Rio. In terms of numbers, there were three saint ranks, a dozen emperors and fifty king ranked individuals among them.
They all stood poised, their dark, flowing garments rippling in the wind. They were no ordinary intruders; they were all trained professionals, and though the sight had shaken them, they were quick to recover.
They had seen this sort of unbridled strength many times before, only that they were not expecting it from a man they had labelled as moderately dangerous from the onset. Fresh from their reckless assault on the citadel, their purpose was obscured in shadows, but their intentions were clear: chaos.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
"I go by Raphael" He had thought about using an alias but decided it was better this way. he was wearing a mask, and chances this would trace back to him while he 'was' in the academy were very low.
Citizens, observing from the parapets and windows, gasped in both fear and awe, their breaths mingling with intrigue as they beheld the confrontation unfolding before them. The sight of a man burning alive was unsettling to say the least.
With a graceful movement, Raphael stepped forward, his hands fluidly dancing in patterns that seemed to draw on the very essence of the elements around him. The robes of the group, animated by a sudden windswept gust, fluttered like vultures preparing to pounce. Yet, he remained unmoved, a grin hidden beneath his mask.
This was not merely a fight; it was an intricate performance, a battle choreographed for his maximum entertainment. A battle to test the depths of his power, a whetstone for his progress.
The robed men advanced first, hands outstretched, summoning gleaming orbs of energy that crackled with dark intent. They worked in tandem as one, drawing combination attacks, planning to overpower him with numbers, Rio simply stood and watched.
'Hmmm so he wants to send his underlings to test the depths of my abilities first. Even though he is aware I'm a demigod. Like lambs to the slaughter. The best among them is a saint. The lanky woman.'
Raph dodged and weaved through the blasts with an agility that seemed otherworldly. He danced among them, almost playfully, as if the very air around him aided him, he seemed to become one with the wind—a step here, a pivot there. They were relentless, but he remained a whirlwind, unfazed and almost amused.
One woman, desperate and fierce, conjured a torrent of dark flames, intending to engulf him. Rather than flee, Raphael pirouetted, slipping past the inferno as he plucked a single flame from the air, containing its heat between his fingers. With a deft flick of his wrist, he redirected it back toward her, forcing her to leap aside in shock.
The crowd that was gathering in a two-hundred-meter radius around them gasped, their amazement escalating in tandem with the escalating tension of the confrontation. The masked man's control over the elements was simply beautiful; he effortlessly deflected spells and countered strikes with precision.
He interjected words—taunting, playful– "Is this the best you can muster?"
With every agile move, he dismantled their unity. One by one, they found themselves isolated, caught in the storm of confusion and intimidation he expertly brewed. He was flawlessly dismantling their teamwork.
The robed men, emboldened by numbers, became reckless, charging at him with their combined might. But the masked man's lithe body seemed to anticipate their every thought; he danced as much with his adversaries as he did against them, drawing them into a rhythm that only he controlled.
The saint stage woman who specialised in controlling multiple ethereal, levitating blades attempted to ascend into the sky, seeking to rain down spectral blades upon him. But as she soared, Raphael's dark amethyst eyes locked with hers, and in a sudden burst of energy, he sprinted up the side of the city's outer wall as if gravity had forgotten him, leaping to meet her halfway. With one fluid motion, he struck her from below, right into her mid-section, the air was knocked out of her lungs as her eyes went wide, the force sending her crashing into her startled companions.
The citadel erupted in cheers interlaced with sorrowful cries; they were witnesses to a skirmish turned spectacle. The robed individuals began to falter, their fear palpable as they struggled to regroup.
Raphael landed elegantly, his feet barely making a sound as they touched the ground, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around him. The robed men, shaken by their comrade's sudden defeat, hesitated, their formation faltering. Sensing the shift in their morale, he pressed the attack, his movements a blur as he maneuvered through their ranks.
With each step, Raphael exhibited a blend of grace and potency. He sidestepped a desperate thrust from one of the robed adversaries, using the enemy's momentum against him to send him sprawling into the dirt. Another lunged from behind, but Raphael pivoted sharply, countering with a swift elbow strike that sent the attacker reeling, crashing into a heap beside his comrade.
The cheers of the crowd grew louder, their encouragement fuelling Raphael's 'fun'. Channelling his momentum, he focused on the remaining opponents, his amethyst eyes glowing with a malevolent glint. The saint stage woman, still recovering from her earlier blow, struggled to regain her composure, but Raphael had no intention of allowing her a moment's respite.
He darted towards her, the air shimmering with unspent energy as he executed a series of fluid movements, striking with a precision that left little room for retaliation. A flick of his wrist sent a nearby weapon spinning, disarming another robed man, while a graceful kick sent yet another reeling back into the throng.
Panic crept into the hearts of the robed figures as their ranks thinned. They began to scatter, the cohesion they once had dissolving under the pressure of Raphael's relentless assault. He was a one-man army; he was a tempest, sweeping through them with an unstoppable force.
With a final, powerful leap, he soared above them, twisting in the air as he emerged high above the citadel, coming to a stop level with Rio who had been watching everything unfold.
Rio simply kept his gaze on his followers, his expression unchanged. Though they had been thoroughly outmatched, he had expected this outcome because of their opponent's rank. What he did not expect though, was that every single one of them was still alive. "You have done well"
The figures below had 'worship' colored on their features as they watched their God. Some of had passed out during the fight, while some were slowly recovering. Raphael had was not attacking with the intention to kill after burning Thorne much to their surprise. He was simply toying with them.
As Rio descended, he landed in their midst, arms extending in a flourish that sent shockwaves through the ground. The combined might of his presence and his mastery compelled the remaining members of The Anarchist Syndicate to freeze, astonishment etched on their faces. "Now watch as I obliterate this heretic."