Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End
chapter-586-1

Dozens of tribal war horns simultaneously resounded in the desert like an ominous symphony heralding destruction.

This was a sight one would have expected to see in a massive war between two races, but the enemy here was a single man. Such a situation was unprecedented, but no one could say that it was unwarranted, for he was the descendant of Sia’s most favored clan.

To the deviants, the Kingmaker was an existence that had to be eliminated even if it took the sacrifice of many of their soldiers. That was how great his strength and potential were, which could be seen from the plights of the three Race Sovereigns.

Behind the deviants’ formations, the sword-bearing deviant’s body was an utter mess, the three-armed giant monster had had one of its arms nearly obliterated, and the winged deviant had had its wings and claws frozen and shattered. These three Origin Level 1 deviants stared at the man with fearful looks, not daring to underestimate him anymore.

They were compelled to follow the Deviant Sovereign’s orders, but not at the cost of their own lives. Considering that the enemy had sustained far worse injuries than them, they concluded that the best way to minimize their losses was to flood the enemy with their soldiers and wear him out.

Thousands of soldiers who had survived Death Rain’s initial onslaught drew their weapons and charged at Roel. Behind them, the surviving deviant priests raised their staffs to channel an army spell that ordinary transcendents could never dream of opposing.

Just like that, Roel plunged further into a disadvantageous position.

He was already in poor condition. Despite his ability, Indestructible Body, he was still losing feeling in his body due to his severe injuries, and his consciousness grew faint. Nevertheless, he still pulled himself together to put up a fight.

With that, the second wave of battle commenced.

Roel had to retract his pale yellow wind barrier due to its high mana cost, and Death Rain was also in cooldown after it was dispersed earlier by the Race Sovereign’s attacks. He could only try his best to conserve energy by brawling with the minimal usage of his frost aura and lava.

Even so, it was still no easy feat to get to him. His frost aura knocked down any arrows flying in his direction, and charging deviant soldiers were often forced to stop in their tracks by random lava pillars rising from the ground, leaving them unable to build up momentum.

“Grar!”

Beastlike roars shook the battlefield.

An Origin Level 2 deviant took the lead and swung its sharp blade straight toward Roel’s neck. Roel retaliated with a destructive lava punch that destroyed not only the Origin Level 2 deviant but several enemies directly behind it too.

At the same time, the treacherous frost aura lingering in the vicinity significantly slowed the speed of approaching enemies, keeping them from pouncing on him all at once. This bought precious time for Roel to deal with them a group at a time.

From the first encounter, it would appear that the deviants were being severely outmatched, but the three Race Sovereigns weren’t fazed at all.

This was what weaker transcendents were good for on the battlefield, after all. Their mission was to pile on the enemy and wear them down so that the high transcendents could stand a better fighting chance against the enemy.

As time went by, Roel gradually approached his limit.

His countless wounds and fractures numbed his senses. A peculiar blood mist drifted from his right arm’s slash wound. He could neither heal his arm nor raise it, and the wound was continuously depleting his energy and mana in the midst of the battle.

A real battle was not the same as legends and myths.

It was not easy to stand against an army of thousands, especially when there were plenty of Origin Level 2 transcendents in their ranks. Roel was only able to stand his ground because of his abilities’ nature and his mana capacity.

On the one hand, the Crown’s Stones were potent abilities that couldn’t be resisted. On the other hand, he was sustained by Sia’s blessing, Being Toward Death, which fueled him with additional mana after his earlier clash with the Race Sovereigns.

But there was only so much that the blessing could do. The intense battle depleted his mana at a frightening rate, far beyond how much he was receiving from Being Toward Death. The Race Sovereigns’ ploy was working—he was being gradually worn down.

As Roel’s consciousness became increasingly clouded, his mind devolved to the point where there was only a single thought that kept repeating in his mind, echoing the simplest wish of all living beings—I want to live.

It was like he had become a killing machine driven by a simple wish to live on.

Silence only returned to the desert nearly an hour later. By then, the scenery had become very different from before.

Standing atop a hill made of carcasses, Roel pierced his sword into a deviant’s chest and, by instinct, twisted the sword to send his enemy to the netherworld. Then, he instantly shifted his weight onto the sword to support his body, which was already on the verge of collapse.

A brief respite cleared his mind a little. He raised his head to look at the hills of carcasses scattered across the desert, as well as the surrounding deviant soldiers trembling with fright.

The deviants were not an unintelligent race; they possessed basic emotions too.

Despite Roel’s faint breath and unsteady footsteps, his figure had remained infallible no matter how many deviants piled up on him. It was as if he was an undying monster or a berserker blessed by the God of War; he continued to stand firm regardless of what they threw at him. Before the deviants knew it, his profile had already become a source of fear for them.

Watching him stand atop thousands of their brethren’s carcasses, even the most valiant deviant soldier found itself losing its fighting will.

The war horns had stopped at some point, and there were hardly any soldiers charging at Roel anymore. The previously crowded desert looked much emptier. By this point, the Race Sovereigns had significantly recovered from their injuries, but their fear only deepened as they felt greater danger from Roel than before.

The hour-long battle had inflicted countless wounds of different sizes on Roel’s body. Three swords were sticking out of his back, and a short lance was impaled in his left thigh. Fresh blood dyed his entire body red, and his face was blurred by his seeping mana.

All that could be seen were his gleaming golden eyes.

He was like a demon rising from the depths of hell. Despite his faint breath, the three Race Sovereigns did not doubt that as soon as they approached him, he would tightly clutch onto one of their ankles and pull them down into the abyss with him.

An unnerving silence spread across the battlefield.

No one was making a move. The Race Sovereigns were hesitant to strike, whereas the deviant soldiers were terrified. It was only upon the urging of the Deviant Sovereign that the three Race Sovereigns finally launched their attack.

Almost as if they had agreed on it, the three Race Sovereigns simultaneously resorted to long-ranged attacks, a field that deviants were known to be particularly bad at.

The tall sword-bearing deviant swung his sword diagonally, unleashing a blood arc that divided the world into two. The three-armed giant deviant hurled its fist, releasing an earth-shattering shockwave reminiscent of a comet. The winged deviant spewed out menacing lightning bolts from the sky.

They were resorting to a war of attrition. This was what the fearful deviants could come up with to curb Roel, but it was an effective ploy.

To defend against the Race Sovereigns’ bombardments, Roel released his spells once more, but both the drifting frost aura and the spurting lava were incomparably weaker than before.

A humongous explosion rattled the world the moment those three powers converged.

Boom!

A blinding pillar of mana gushed into the sky.

In this final clash, the Race Sovereigns finally got to display their true capabilities after being suppressed in the initial phase of the battle. The explosion sent sand and rock whizzing in all directions, tearing the deviants in the immediate vicinity into shreds.

Roel’s figure also vanished amidst the blinding light.