Dyon’s eyes seemed quite dead as he silently stared at Loki’s bowing figure. He didn’t have the normal despair one would expect, nor did they bear any resignation. He simply watched.
From the name Patriarch Ragnor used alone, Dyon had already guessed many things. He had wondered why his breakthrough into sainthood was capable of dispelling a wound caused by a supposed celestial so easily, but the answer was now laying bear before him.
Even with his will to survive still burning as furiously as it had been before he realized Loki had lived, Dyon couldn’t help but laugh at himself.
The person everyone had been so worried about. The very same mighty Patriarch Ragnor that King Belmont spent centuries preparing and cultivating for. Was a mere trickster… A man who in terms of just combat power, probably lost out to his demon generals.
That said, something was telling Dyon that defeating this Loki mighty very well be more difficult than defeating a celestial. A man who could hide himself so well in the face of even celestial level beings as a mere saint was someone who could probably toy with a warrior on his level to death.
“Oh?” Loki chuckled lightly as he tilted his head up from his bow, “Your eyes don’t seem to have given up yet.”
There was a savage light in Loki’s eyes. No matter how at ease he pretended to be, Dyon had seen through him as a petty man long ago. He wouldn’t allow Dyon’s disrespect of him to slide so easily, not when he had been forced to his knees to the point of having no choice but to reveal his identity.
Seeing that Dyon had no change of expression, Loki casually clasped his hands behind his back, looking down with curiosity flashing in his snake-like eyes.
“Aiyah, I made such a big reveal to you and you don’t even have the decency to look impressed or surprised. Sheesh, at least give me the chance to explain my glorious master plan to you before you die.”
Dyon could feel his consciousness slipping away. Maybe most of the reason he had no reaction was simply because he didn’t have the energy to.
His heart felt like it wanted to be ripped out of his ribcage, his muscles were torn in just as places as his bones were broken, and none of that was to mention the fact his soul wanted to dissipate into nothingness. If it wasn’t for the fact his soul grade was so abnormally pure, to the point where describing it as a first-grade soul simply didn’t do it justice, maybe he would have long since collapsed.
Dyon’s scythe morphed into a sword in his hand before he gripped it with both as tightly as his remaining strength would allow. There was no way he could make use of death qi anymore, so what was the use in sustaining his airs as a reaper? He had to focus his remaining strength in the most efficient way possible.
His brain ran through the possibilities. He tossed away any avenues that led in defeat and only searched out victory. His master wanted him to live. He knew his parents would want him to live. He couldn’t leave Clara behind, alone in a world she didn’t know or understand. He didn’t want his wives to shed any more tears for him. He had a little brother and little sister who were both still relying on him… He had the legacy of billions of people riding on his shoulders!
Loki sighed, “This hurts you know. I can’t decide what pains me more. The fact you don’t care about the plans I so painstakingly laid out.” The temperature suddenly dropped as Loki’s playful demeanor disappeared. “Or the fact you have the audacity to still think you can win.”
Dyon had no time to react. His soul was too fatigued to help him sense Loki’s movement, and even if it could, his body was in no shape to act on that information.
Blood spilled from Dyon’s mouth as a heavy kick connected with his arm, cracking it the instant it made contact and sending him flying tens of meters.
Regardless of his tricks, Loki was still a true peak saint. Even in Dyon’s healthiest state, it would be nearly impossible to beat him unless he brought out all of his trump cards. And that was assuming Loki didn’t use any of his illusion techniques!
Soil, grass and crippled flowers flew into the air. Dyon’s body skidded against the ground with no sign of him resisting. At this point, relaxing his entire body seemed to be the only thing that relieved the pain.
In an instant, Loki was over looking Dyon’s sorry state. But, seeing the fire in his eyes still there, Loki couldn’t help but want to do everything he could to extinguish it.
“You have a lot of nerve.” Loki kicked at Dyon’s rib cage, shattered a large section before grinding his feet downward.
Dyon grunted in pain. He wanted to roar out, but his remaining energy simply wouldn’t allow it. He had given too much to survive to this point.
“Ha,” Dyon’s muffled laughter came of as an aggrieved sigh. He rotated Devour as furiously as his soul would allow, using the contact Loki provided as a set point.
However, when Loki felt the tug on his soul, his anger only increased.
“You…” Loki’s jaw set. “Okay then.”
Dyon didn’t know what Loki meant and he almost sighed a breath of relief when he felt Loki’s foot leave his chest. But, when he felt the next attacks, he almost regretted his actions.
Loki backed away, no longer giving Dyon the opportunity to take more of his soul strength before raining down bolts of lightning on Dyon’s decrepit figure.
The truth was that Dyon hadn’t even taken much of Loki’s soul strength. Without much strength of his own, how could he? But, that didn’t stop Loki from retaliating in the cruelest way possible…
Dyon’s body lay in a crater, ravaged by shock waves of lightning, endlessly bombarding into him…
His life was hanging on by a string so thin that even a slight breath could snap it in half.