Hell Difficulty Tutorial Chapter 790 - Isn't it yours?

Flashback Nyssa Volare

Should I ever get reborn, I'd crave a far simpler existence. I'd cherish escaping all of this and maybe gaining some extra height beyond my current stature. If that's not overly demanding, I'd also desire locks of blonde hair.

A straightforward life, even if somewhat brief, would thrill me. Loneliness creeps in occasionally, leading me to dream of siblings who adore me and whom I'd cherish back. I'd be the baby of the family, adorable and spoiled rotten by all, forever dressed in spotless, lovely outfits while feasting on piping-hot meals.

Existing for a typical human lifespan would be incredible, or perhaps a touch extended with robust health. Not as some demon, but truly as a human. Around a century? I'm uncertain about the exact span for system-less humans.

I'd crave a pampered youth too, maturing once more, wedding someone I'd enchant into loving me, and passing away before or alongside them, encircled by our kin.

Being Nyssa Volare doesn't thrill me, yet I don't despise it. I get to exist, encounter these folks, and undergo such experiences. Plenty of feats and sensations I've savored that others never will. A cost comes with that, and I deem it just that I bear it.

As my fist clenches tighter, the gash in my palm widens further, with blood starting to trickle and stream between my gripped fingers. My blood. Primordial blood. The essence of the accursed lineage, forged to obey the High Lord, whom I'll slay upon returning to my world. For now, I don his hues, and for now, I obey. No doubts arise.

[Weapon]

The foe I arrived to confront, still distant, senses my arrival and responds accordingly, bracing for combat.

I ought to perish here, yet I doubt that will happen.

In rebirth, my core essence would remain unchanged. I can't flee from my true self.

A touch of sorrow grips me.

POV Nathaniel

[Mana Warcaster - lvl ????]

The thylarin Champion awaits as I finally join the group. His six limbs extend broadly before thrusting ahead. As though sparked by the sheer drag of his appendages slicing the air, the most intense blue flame I've witnessed erupts. It blazes around him, surging skyward and fanning out sideways like fiery wings.

That blaze forms a colossal silhouette behind him prior to charging our way, towering half a mile, vitrifying the terrain in its path while stirring the liquefied soil into oceanic swells.

The whole skyline seems hazed by the scorching atmosphere.

Yelling, Weslin and his defensive squad ignite their formation, hurling every ounce of power into it. Almost all of Weslin's amassed void depletes instantly, alongside the bulk of the team's stockpiles.

The wavering void whirls in a loop encircling two S-ranks and fourteen A-ranks as the inferno howls by. The subsequent assault breaches their shield, slaying two A-ranks outright with others staggering. One positioned too near erupts in flames; he incinerates in mere moments, vanishing completely.

The atmosphere wails as the Champion gestures anew. That azure blaze coils around the defiant void before retracting to him right as I arrive, shifting his focus onto me.

The surroundings detonate from a mana deluge plummeting like a colossal hammer's blow. A shock blast rips across, carving a precise round plain of compacted earth about me, shoved far underground.

At its heart, I balance on a scant foot-wide untouched spot. Vast mana from the strike floods my crown, sharpening my minds to razor focus. Formations trigger, and Ley Lines linked to the Nameless Tree appear overhead.

A vessel materializes behind me too, with nearly every bit of my accumulated mana fueling one skill. The Tree stabilizes it as I route that mana via my vessel, my low pristine passive preventing my mind from frying.

The azure flames pale somewhat, cascading to the earth like spilling grains. Perilous and scorching, bereft of direction or purpose.

The Champion strives to reclaim the flames, but I anticipate his moves, my black mana consuming any essence he dispatches to regain them.

Then he falters once more.

How?

Like the lurker or avatar, the Champion counters rapidly upon grasping my black mana's effect. His mana leaks from his form, marking him as a Regenerator. It gushes endlessly, potent and inexhaustible.

This deluge aims to shatter my mind and bury me as he advances, employing internal mana for fortification while allies charge him.

Just how?

Bursting from his core, mana erupts fiercely and lethally, hurled at nearby foes with killing might. Yet once it exits his body into my domain, it shatters into radiant specks slamming demons like a grit gale before vanishing, absorbed and claimed by me.

How can you be so feeble?

Why yield your mana to me?

Doesn't it belong to you?

The Champion lunges at me, but Morwag intercepts as the pearl-white obsidian spine chain anchors into soil, binding him amid clashes against the dark. Even they can't wield mana. None except me and faintly the Champion. Yet they harness primordial energies.

These eyes still feel novel, but I've adapted to chaotic, unplanned skirmishes. Despite the burn in my skull, I scrutinize the Champion, whose non-melee build boasts remarkable mana-enhanced physique.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on NovelBin, not stolen versions.

He rips off one demon head. He bores through another. He smashes Morwag's visage, fracturing the low pristine plating and blinding an eye.

His heartbeat's friction births blue flames, drawn forth to sheathe him, blazing wildly beyond his grasp, scorching others preemptively.

Yet prolonged clashes reveal his frantic urge to flee them for me. Morwag, battered relentlessly, blocks his path while Weslin and allies shield desperately.

The fray dashes across the field at velocities baffling some A-ranks, but Morwag and Weslin invariably risk all to bar his approach.

The Champion erupts into blistering speed, barreling Morwag aside; limbs shield rearward, parrying Weslin as another fists the assailing human. Throughout, gravity drags him, bolts hammer his frame, void seeks to shred his innate shield, isolating him to raw physical stats.

Morwag above all strives to unravel the Champion's binding force.

Still, that rank isn't bestowed lightly. Mana-less, he remains lethal, though motions grow ponderous and cadence falters.

His enhancements wane.

His exertion peaks. Scores, hundreds of arts and powers unleashed in succession. No opportunity now to decipher and foil them all. Perhaps years hence, but too early yet. Thus, I resort to my forte: raw overpowering via channeling. I seize his mana, claim it, strip it away, then wield it against him.

It's... ridiculously straightforward.

I plunder his mana effortlessly. Laughably so.

Intel confirmed: the Champion specializes in mana. Pure specialist. Sadly for him, Lissandra nailed it. I'm his worst matchup.

My vessel spreads arms broad behind me, mana surging through. My mind strains to manage. Domain fused with black mana ingests it all, compelling channeling to dominate.

First since my physique upgrade and Mana Physique boost, its prowess dawns. The three mora from Crimson Forge weren't exaggerating about scarce superior conductors. My trait, passives, black mana, channeling render this mana maestro trivial. Titanic mana obeys my command, circulating in streams, empowering crown and domain.

Assault after assault crumbles, his form mana-starved save fleeting generation I snatch.

My fragment swells, hue returning. Now in black-white domain, the tree gleams otherworldly. Trunk near-translucent white-gold radiance, crown solidifying tangibly.

Branches and foliage quiver, then all motion in domain ceases. Guild members, rubble, breeze, motes—all freeze.

Champion halts mid-strike, inertia crushed. He scrabbles for escape: long-range teleport to anchor. Futile. Reweaving barrier, amassing for final push—unheeding. Shrouding from domain, limbs quaking as two etch runes into flesh. Even lung-friction ignition or heart-mana detonation, body-sacrifice for assault.

Against me, prepared fully, no mana scrap gathers.

Filtered from stasis, others surge, pummeling the static form. Veterans all, no feeble blows; they amass primordial force. Defenders wield void and apt powers, striking unison.

Still, scant wounds topple him. One arm severed, clutched by Morwag who discards it, charging anew. Then I spot stump-blood fueling runes on the lost limb.

It detonates into blue-flamed bone shards friction-born, impaling all; most riddle Morwag's back, protruding chestward. He reels briefly, then hammers Champion's skull with ground-shattering shockwave on glassed soil.

Morwag's blood spatters from armor breaches onto Champion, trickling arm to nail-scratched rune.

Champion vanishes, teleported.

[Eclipse]

My vessel snatches a black mana dagger from crown as Champion claps remaining hands.

Air shrieks; building-sized blue bolts launch meteor-like from his rear. Hand sweeps down, sky-mana hammer crashing atop me.

Of course he anticipates, perhaps baited it. Teleport triggers—omniblast erupts around him, chased by rending blue blaze.

But I'm absent. Vessel teleports in, black dagger forward absorbing bulk.

Champion teleport-attempts; Weslin's void disrupts. Vessel pursues, both materializing steps away groundward. Arm raised defensively—vessel impales black dagger therein before blue burst erases it.

Temperature spikes, earth quakes from meteor barrage. My barrier singes skin, so I phase out. None defend; all flee fallout.

Champion yanks at black dagger—too sluggish. It permeates, proliferating, gorging on regen-mana, amplifying.

Glass spinal chain smashes thylarin, burying deep. Morwag crashes near, charred body-armor cratering ground explosively.

No runes fire. Morwag pummels repeatedly. Arm extends, forging dense glass dagger from particles, plunging at Champion.

Even near-death, thylarin resists. Heart ruptures internally, snaring scant mana amid black onslaught. Blast guts Morwag's belly, yet demon drives glass blade into eye.

Blade embedded, Morwag torques. Thylarin convulses, then stills.

[You have defeated Mana Warcaster - lvl 501]

[Lvl 392 > Lvl 393]

[Lvl 393 > Lvl 394]

[Lvl 394 > Lvl 395]

[Lvl 395 > Lvl 396]

[Lvl 396 > Lvl 397]

[Lvl 397 > Lvl 398]

[Lvl 398 > Lvl 399]

[Lvl 399 > Lvl 400]

[Lvl 400 > Lvl 401]

[Lvl 401 > Lvl 402]

[Eclipse - lvl 68 > Eclipse - lvl 69]

[Perception - lvl 73 > Perception - lvl 74]

[Manifestation - lvl 39 > Manifestation - lvl 40]

[Current - lvl 40 > Current - lvl 41]

[Current - lvl 41 > Current - lvl 42]

[Current - lvl 42 > Current - lvl 43]

[Current - lvl 43 > Current - lvl 44]

Congratulations, you have reached level 400. You can now choose your final trait.