Strongest Necromancer System Chapter 838: A Woman Dares to Touch Me!?

In the center of the room, a portal materialized, and from it emerged a tall man clad entirely in white. His hair and skin were pale, and a long, gold-trimmed white robe, styled fit for royalty, adorned him. White trousers and shoes completed his immaculate appearance. He surveyed the disarray of the chamber with white eyes, emitting a low hum.

"You have defiled this beautiful chamber in a fit of rage. Pathetic, spiteful, disgusting, yet entirely predictable. I should not be astonished. It is a woman's nature to destroy that which surpasses them in beauty. Their envy and avarice are boundless, and granting them significant power only serves to unleash their worst impulses. Your very existence is an affront to all virtuous women. Nevertheless, it matters little. You retain sufficient beauty, and thus, I shall take you under my tutelage and teach you decorum. Like an untamed pet."

Diane's gaze sharpened with her growing displeasure as the man spoke, but she withheld her attack, attempting to better comprehend the situation. The foremost question in Diane's mind was how this man had gained entry. Infiltration of the main castle should have been impossible due to the pervasive magical rune defenses. Even if a teleportation device were activated or a dimensional rift torn open, runes were in place to redirect such phenomena, shunting the traveler to the dungeons. Yet, this man had not only breached her inner sanctum with ease but had done so without expending any Qi at all! Diane extended her senses throughout the room and was met with a shocking revelation. The man before her possessed no Qi, and even the portal that had shimmered into existence behind him was likewise devoid of any energy!

'How did he enter? Is he suppressing his Qi? No, that is impossible. Even suppressed, I would have sensed it. It is more akin to him having no Qi whatsoever. What manner of being is he? He is like a vacuum.'

A profound sense of bewilderment washed over Diane as she regarded the man. She grasped her sword, her voice rough, and spoke.

"State your purpose here, or face my blade."

The man scanned Diane from head to toe, his gaze akin to a scientist examining a specimen, lingering on her hips and breasts far longer than on any other feature. Undeniably, Diane was a woman of striking beauty, and her attire—a short warrior's skirt paired with a strip of cloth across her chest—accentuated her toned, alluring physique. A smile of appreciation touched the man's lips, and Diane felt a cold fury ignite within her at the condescending, lecherous glint in his eyes. He regarded her as a lion might view a rat it intended to devour at its leisure. Diane dismissed all concern about the man's identity or his improbable method of entry. Her decision was made: she would slay him. Diane advanced, but the man raised a hand, a frown creasing his brow, and spoke.

"Hah~ Women. Always so impetuous. It is precisely why they require guidance from their superiors. However, I do not object. A rash woman is more easily swayed. Furthermore, it offers greater satisfaction to subjugate the dominant. But first, let us address the present concern. I have arrived upon learning of your recent tribulations concerning the world known as Earth and its nascent Overlord, Jason Marc. You see, I too harbor reservations about Earth and its current Overlord. Thus, though it falls beneath my station, I am prepared to stoop to using a woman for my personal objectives. You ought to rejoice, as few women are so fortunate as to be deemed more than mere playthings for my amusement."

Diane halted her advance, utterly perplexed by the man's pronouncements. Since his arrival, this enigmatic figure had consistently disparaged women, speaking of them as inferior beings beneath him, and Diane could feel her anger escalating with each word. The man's condescension, coupled with his assertion that he would exploit her like a mere object, stoked her fury. Diane's grip tightened on her sword. The man in white shook his head as Diane suddenly lunged toward him with a battle cry.

The mysterious man uttered a disappointed sigh.

"Women. Always so hasty."

Diane swung her sword, aiming to behead the man, but to her astonishment, her blade halted mere millimeters from his neck!

Clang!

Diane retracted her sword and launched another assault!

Clang! Clang!

The clang of steel against steel reverberated throughout the chamber, yet the man remained unfazed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regarded Diane with an indifferent gaze. Diane poured all her might into her assaults, desperate to fell the individual, but her every attempt was rendered futile. Gritting her teeth, Diane instantly abandoned her sword, thrusting her hands forward. Crimson Runes, intricately etched upon her skin, erupted in a dazzling luminescence as they were activated. These were not ordinary markings; they were potent Bengari Runes, designed to enhance a warrior's physical prowess, their speed, and their magical reserves, enabling them to unleash power far beyond their normal limits.

As a TITAN Rank III, Diane possessed immense self-assurance in her capabilities, firmly believing that few magical defenses could withstand her full-power onslaught. However, what Diane could never have foreseen in that pivotal moment was that her attack would not only fail to inflict any harm but would be inexplicably repelled back upon her.

BOOM!

Diane was violently hurled against a wall, emitting a groan as she felt the jarring impact on her head. She looked down in utter astonishment to discover her right arm fractured from the force of the collision. Glancing upward, Diane observed the white-haired man striding towards her, his voice booming with arrogant authority.

"A mere woman dared to lift a hand against me!? You presume to touch my exalted person!? You insignificant wretch! Do you not comprehend that nothing provokes my ire more than such brazen insolence! I would sooner allow myself to be rent asunder by the savage wolves of the wilderness than permit a woman to lay her hands upon me!"

The white-haired man unleashed a swift kick to Diane's chest, sending her careening back into the wall once more. Diane moaned, her vitality rapidly draining, a sense of bewilderment washing over her. What sorcery was this? She felt utterly incapable of mustering any strength in this man's presence.

A resounding cry echoed from behind.

"DIANE!"

Jamat, having snatched up the discarded sword, raised the weapon aloft and charged, roaring, towards the white-haired man.

Slash!

Blood sprayed through the air. Jamat's eyes widened in disbelief as he witnessed a visible gash appear on the white-haired man's back. I actually struck him? Jamat was stunned by this turn of events. He was well aware that his own strength paled in comparison to Diane's, making his ability to wound the white-haired man, when Diane could not even land a scratch, utterly inconceivable. Yet, the white-haired man gave no indication of registering the attack. He simply intensified the pressure of his foot against Diane's chest, addressing Jamat with palpable irritation.

"Attack me again, and I shall take her head. You are nothing but a deplorable excuse for a man, having defiled yourself by submitting to a woman. In my eyes, you are an even lesser being than she is."