Reincarnated with the Mind Control Powers in Another World. Chapter 1150 1150: Chapter-1151

Whoosh.

Drem traversed the valley at a speed that defied perception, the air warping in his wake. Bursts of light erupted near Jerfinndor's lair, the ensuing tremors making the precipices groan.

"What the—" His utterance caught in his throat as the scene below became clear. The valley had transformed into a charnel house. Dragons were engaged in a bloody, internecine battle. Some tore at their own throats; others dismembered their brethren, ripping off limbs and wings. The atmosphere was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and fresh blood.

Shattered remains littered the ground—no single corpse was whole, each a ruin of dismemberment, crushing, or explosive destruction.

Drem's gaze shifted ahead. A colossal skeleton lay sprawled across the valley floor—the remnants of an ancient dragon. Perched casually within its massive, empty skull was a figure, a morgan, reclining as if he presided over the rampant destruction.

"How dare a mere insignificant creature mock us?" Drem's voice thundered, laden with fury. He lifted his spear, aiming it squarely at the audacious intruder.

<Agony>

<Soul Burner>

The spear pulsed with energy, its shaft incandescent with a furious red hue as dark flames writhed around it like living serpents.

Release.

He drew his arm back and unleashed the weapon. The air shrieked as it sliced through the sky.

Whoosh.

"Hmm...?" Anon tilted his head, a subtle smirk gracing his lips.

Then, without preamble, he vanished. A moment later, he materialized beside Mira, scooped her into his arms, and disappeared once more.

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The spear collided with the dragon's skull. The world detonated. The concussive force ripped through the valley, obliterating bone, stone, and every demon dragon unfortunate enough to be caught between the cataclysmic zones. The mountains themselves shuddered from the impact.

Whoosh.

Anon reappeared a thousand meters distant, carefully setting Mira down. The ground beneath them still vibrated from the immense blast.

"W-What just happened? I-I was right there—and... Oh, crap." Mira's voice trembled as she observed the smoking crater, then looked up at the dark silhouette descending from above. Drem hovered over them, his visage a mask of pure rage.

"It appears you are acquainted with him, my dear," Anon remarked, flicking a speck of ash from his coat. He casually tossed his cigar aside and rotated his neck.

Crack—crack—crack.

"H-He's Drem," Mira stammered. "One of Jerfinndor's most formidable demonic generals. The weapon he wields—Tsuikha—it is cursed. Legend has it, it can annihilate entire races, even kingdoms, with a single blow."

Anon's lips twitched into a slight curve. "Finally... a worthy challenge."

He reached into his spatial storage and produced two obsidian curved sickles, the Arcane Slayers. The weapons danced fluidly around his fingers before he firmly gripped them, their wicked edges catching the dim light reflecting off the burning valley.

THUD.

Drem landed before them. The earth fractured under his immense weight. His eyes fixed on Mira, and he raised his spear, its tip unwavering and resolute.

"You have no comprehension of your transgression, girl," Drem stated icily. "Your entire lineage will pay the price for this."

The spear's malevolent glow intensified.

"And you," he added, redirecting his aim towards Anon, "will forfeit your life."

Anon tilted his head slightly. "You intend to end me? Right here, this very moment?"

Drem's grip tightened. "I shall immolate your soul along with your physical form so that—"

Anon's soft chuckles interrupted his pronouncement.

"Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHA."

The laughter reverberated through the valley, initially subtle, then escalating into unrestrained mirth. Mira's heart lurched. Drem's expression hardened, a silent testament to his rage. Without hesitation, he hurled the spear once more.

<Agony.>

<Soul Burner.>

The weapon blazed, streaking forward like a bolt of pure energy. The distance between them evaporated in less than a heartbeat. But before the destructive tip could connect, Anon's laughter ceased. His demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing with piercing intensity.

Mira squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the impact. Yet, silence reigned. The stillness was profound. She cautiously opened her eyes—and froze.

Anon stood perfectly still, his right hand raised. One of the sickles was held before his face, its curved blade intercepting the spear's tip with pinpoint accuracy. Sizzling sparks erupted where steel met enchanted metal.

Crimson liquid trickled down his wrist, stark against his pale skin. His arm trembled, his muscles straining and threatening to tear under the immense pressure, yet his stance remained unyielding. His gaze was locked onto Drem—icy, unwavering, and resolute.

The spear's luminous aura began to fade. The flames extinguished, their potent magic nullified by the Arcane Slayers. Then—

THUDD.

It clattered to the ground.

Anon planted his boot upon the fallen weapon, applying firm pressure. Slowly, the torn flesh on his arm mended, his hand regenerating to its pristine state.

"You speak of slaying me," Anon said, his voice calm yet cutting, "and yet your most formidable weapon couldn't even force me to take a single step back."

Drem's expression remained impassive, though his eyes betrayed a fleeting shift. "I do not know your identity," he stated, his voice hardening, "but you are no morgan. I advise you to retreat. Leave this place, and the destruction you have wrought will be overlooked. We can both avoid a bloodbath."

Mira observed in silence, her mind struggling to process the events unfolding before her.

'He halted an attack from one of the most formidable demon generals with a single hand… and now Drem is proposing a truce?'

Anon let out a soft sigh of disappointment, retracting his sickles into his inventory. "Must you not muster the courage to face me directly? I drew my sickles for naught."

Drem drew himself up straighter. "What price did she offer for your assistance? Whatever it may be, we can provide you with one hundred times that amount."

Anon offered a faint smile. "Are you a warrior or a merchant?"

"I am the guardian of this valley," Drem declared. "My name is Demon General Drem, and you have demonstrated your formidable strength. You have bested me once already by absorbing my most potent attack without even moving from your spot. It is for this reason that I now resort to diplomacy."

Anon tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I will credit you for your directness. Now then… perhaps you can offer me—what was his name again, my dear?"

"K-Krevin," Mira replied softly.

Drem's brows knitted together. "Krevin? The king's son? The very one destined to inherit this valley?"

"Indeed," Anon affirmed simply.

A heavy silence descended upon them. Then, Drem's grip tightened on his spear once more as he retrieved it from the ground.

"I comprehend," he murmured. "Our discussion has reached its end."

The spear began to emanate a glowing red light from its edges.

Anon's expression remained unaltered.

"I regret it," Drem continued, his voice calm yet laden with gravity, "but a fight to the death is the sole remaining outcome between us."

"I do not wish to end you summarily," Anon stated with a smile. "There must be someone left to inform your king of who arrived here and slew his son. However, I shall claim your right eye, your left wing, and your right leg. You will survive—but you will never be able to heal again."

Anon's smile grew sharper as he summoned the arcane slayers once more.

"Have you ever encountered the concept of 'Domination'?" Anon inquired with a smile, vanishing from his current position.

"Wh-" Before Drem could pinpoint his Aura, Anon reappeared beside his right leg and lightly pressed his sickle against it.

*Slash*

In mere moments, Drem's right leg was severed from his body, causing him to lose his footing.

*THUD*

Drem attempted to steady himself with his spear, but Anon reappeared before his right eye.

"I shall demonstrate its true essence," Anon retorted with a wild grin as he thrust the sickle deep into Drem's right eye, gouging it out.

*Pop*