Endless Debt Chapter 1073 - 110: Day of the Deluge_3

"I comprehend."

Red Dog recognized the entity concealed within the Iron Coffin and had an inkling of the events that transpired on that blood-soaked night.

What a lamentable situation.

The burden of concealed truths weighed heavily upon him, yet Red Dog understood that revealing this secret was impossible. He was aware of the lady's constant vigilance, her amusement derived from his internal torment as she satisfied her insatiable curiosity.

Shaking his head impassively, Red Dog declared, "Merely a game."

Yet, a deep-seated sorrow, long since withered, resided within his core.

It was a contest orchestrated by Devils, and they, all of them, were naught but pitiable pawns.

"

The fortress, which had endured for ages, crumbled, its shattered remains cascading down the cliff's edge. With a series of subtle undulations, the debris was swallowed by the vast Sea of Mist, vanishing from existence.

Ere long, the faint tremors intensified, evolving into distinct, piercing shrieks.

Etheric clashes rent the terrain, spewing dust into the air. Amidst the chaos, two figures engaged in a rapid, evasive ballet.

The Shadow King, consumed by a frenzied rage, unleashed torrents of fire towards the First Seat. The latter, with effortless grace, carved through the precipice, melting rock as an unending fiery downpour commenced. Meanwhile, the First Seat, wielding his Great Scythe, countered with cold, unyielding precision, dodging each infernal assault.

Severing the raging fiery torrents, flames singed his scarlet robes. The First Seat advanced, his Ether erupting instantaneously, imbuing him with unparalleled power and velocity. In a blink, he materialized behind the Shadow King, bringing his Great Scythe down with devastating force.

The Shadow King's reflexes were sharp enough to allow him to twist his body, launching a whirling counterstrike. His Fire Sword sliced through the atmosphere, conjuring flame-based vortexes.

Their combat resembled the furious collision of twin lightning bolts, advancing and retreating, spinning, and intertwining.

The Shadow King's Fire Sword wailed, setting the very air ablaze, forming a colossal fiery banner. In contrast, the First Seat's Scythe blurred into a spectral white afterimage, each stroke generating a gale that instantly obliterated surrounding structures and flora.

Thunderous impacts echoed unceasingly, a cascade of sparks erupting from the clash of their weapons.

Their movements were fluid as water, the battleground constantly shifting. They soared through the air, then swung their weapons across the ground. Every exchange between them was akin to a tempest, unleashing showers of sparks or droplets of blood. Pale and crimson lights intertwined upon their forms, emitting a blinding luminescence.

The Scythe in the First Seat's grasp seemed to possess prescience, anticipating and deflecting the Shadow King's every edge. Each parry precisely dissected the Fire Sword's onslaughts.

His combat style was remarkably composed, as if he were toying with the Shadow King, who roared in frustration, relentlessly pressing his assault.

Although the Fire Sword's offensive might was potent, it appeared somewhat predictable to the First Seat. The Shadow King's agile maneuvers were, however, proving effective against the First Seat's aggressive tactics.

Their fierce engagement lasted but a fleeting moment, yet it unleashed waves of devastation.

Flames roared and fierce winds howled around them. The land and its structures were utterly annihilated. Upon this ravaged battlefield, their swift movements and attacks mirrored the frantic rhythm of modern music, rapid and untamed.

Amidst the cacophony of clashing steel, the First Seat silenced all discord.

The lethal Scythe descended with incomprehensible speed, cleaving through flames, tearing the air asunder, and striking the Shadow King's obsidian shoulder armor, yanking him abruptly to the ground.

The Shadow King impacted the earth, gouging out a colossal crater. From above, the Scythe descended. The Shadow King, with immense effort, thrust his Fire Sword horizontally, intercepting the blow. The two weapons became locked in a tense standoff.

The First Seat posed the question once more, his voice resonating, "Why do you not yield to destiny?"

A low growl answered him. The rage and defiance simmering within the Shadow King's heart caused his body to tremble slightly. He surged with a desperate will to rebel, but was utterly subdued by the First Seat, his movements completely immobilized.

Sensing the Shadow King's encroaching fatigue and inner turmoil, the First Seat emitted another chilling, peculiar cackle. Within that unsettling laughter, the fire animating the sword began to wane.

Raising his Great Scythe, he brought it crashing down upon the Shadow King repeatedly. Amidst the resounding impacts, the ground fractured, then gave way, collapsing into the level below. The force of the Great Scythe surged through the Shadow King, violently churning his blood and Qi. Even his Alchemy Armor bore numerous cracks. With each descending swing, he was like a fruit intensely squeezed, its juice forced out from every fissure.

In the end, the Shadow King lay prone within the deep chasm, his breath faint and ragged.

The Shadow King realized that victory against the First Seat was beyond his reach. His reliance on the Alchemy Armor to sustain the Seeker of Glory's power had become a fatal flaw, as the armor's destruction caused intermittent power failures. Continued disruption meant he could no longer wield the Core Flame Sword effectively. Furthermore, his own Secret Energy had never truly belonged to him from the start.

The First Seat approached the Shadow King from behind, grasping his head with one hand. The Great Scythe was then placed against the exposed neck, akin to an executioner poised to strike, before slowly lifting the weapon.

"An execution delayed is, after all, the most satisfying," the First Seat murmured.

The Shadow King's vision blurred, his consciousness fractured by grievous wounds. A bitter laugh escaped him as he accepted that he could not evade the Death God's grasp, nor could his deepest wish ever be realized. He also understood, in his final moments, that even Devils possessed limitations.

Leviathan's pledge had ultimately failed, leaving the Shadow King with a sense of profound disappointment.

"Are you weeping?" the First Seat inquired, catching the faint sound of sobbing.