The Last Paragon in the Apocalypse Chapter 1415: Night Harvest

Unbeknownst to everyone, as the night deepened and all slept peacefully, a shadowy warrior slipped from darkness to darkness, stalking those fools who imagined their might granted them immunity.

With his formidable power and versatile form, he could accomplish nearly any deed he desired without arousing the slightest doubt. Should the need arise, he possessed the ability to summon additional bodies to execute his sinister tasks.

Klaus realized that on this occasion, he must tackle his troubles directly, differing from his prior evasion when unpreparedness forced him to flee from a group of True Immortals.

Now, having ascended to Immortality himself, and with the added capability to wield Immortal Rings, he resolved to deploy his Paragon body for this dark endeavor.

Currently, the primary body stood at mid-tier Early Immortal, whereas the Criminal body had climbed to its pinnacle. The Paragon body, however, remained the weakest link.

It lingered at the lower tier, prompting him to elevate it to mid-level, thereby boosting his odds of slaying Lord Varkos several times over.

Fortuitously, he had been set loose precisely as the killers converged on the inn where Klaus recuperated.

His initial prey was a True Immortal who had trailed him ever since departing the Arena. While many others opted to retreat, this one was convinced of his superiority and pursued accordingly.

He excelled as an archer, mastering the arts of shadow and flame.

His scheme proved straightforward: narrow the gap to Klaus’s lodging, pinpoint the occupied chamber, then slip through the gloom to launch a surprise assault.

Yet, as he navigated the obscurity, a firm grip emerged from the void and seized his throat.

"Huh..." He convulsed, struggling to break free. The grasp had struck with blinding speed and unyielding force, affording him no moment to respond.

He summoned his Immortal Rings to amplify his might. But prior to a further effort at liberation, the second hand thrust forward and pierced his torso, clutching his vital organ.

A groan of agony burst from his mouth. Yet, before any defiance could form, Klaus tore it free and displayed it before his eyes.

"This is the cost of your defeat."

He clung desperately to life, but his Immortal Spirit had already been devoured, rendering his flesh inert.

The core objective was to advance the Paragon body’s level while gathering prospective weapon spirits. Thus, upon extracting the heart, the entire Immortal essence was claimed, denying it any hope of flight.

Klaus released his hold, sending the body crashing down.

Next, he positioned the heart upon the corpse and dissolved into the shadows, departing without a trace of evidence.

The next victim was yet another True Immortal perched atop a building, surveying the hotel where Klaus resided.

Clutched in his grasp were paired blades, laced with venoms designed to inflict enduring torment, shattering the spirit prior to ending the flesh.

He had schemed meticulously, and in his vigil, every sense fixed upon the structure. Indeed, when Klaus materialized at his rear, he remained utterly oblivious.

He anticipated no intruder, least of all his quarry, sneaking up from behind.

Klaus snapped a mental snapshot, then extended his arm to prod the man’s shoulder. Sensing the contact, he whirled—or attempted to.

Ere he could gather the power to shift, Klaus pinned him against the surface and drove a sharp blade into his throat. "You ought to sharpen your skills for the next round, lest your demise stays forever comical."

As death crept in, Klaus rotated the weapon, heightening the suffering.

The blade intended for Klaus clattered free, and in a twist of irony, he retrieved it to plunge into the assassin’s back, ensuring merely the point grazed the heart.

A stifled cry leaked out. Moments later, though, his struggles collapsed into oblivion, and he perished.

Klaus devoted a few minutes to manipulating the remains with his arts. Once finished, he departed for the hotel’s undercroft, site of the third killer’s lair.

Concurrently, within the sealed chamber upstairs, Klaus had barred it tight, so as intruders arrived, their wails and profanities echoed solely within those walls.

No ear beyond the portal could detect the chaos unfolding inside.

Thus far, two Immortal Spirits floated resentfully before him, their visages ashen with fury. They had met their ends in the most effortless manner, only to revive in spectral forms unharmed.

Agony compounded as their slayer was unmistakably their intended mark. The bewildering part was their utter ignorance of how Klaus achieved this, given his immobility since entering the room.

That enigma stunned them most.

Not even their own passing rivaled the astonishment of Klaus’s method in slaying them.

Shortly thereafter, a third Immortal Spirit materialized, carrying the same bewilderment and queries as the first pair.

"What in the world is happening?" demanded the rooftop casualty, yet Klaus spared him not a look.

He simply reclined and observed as successive Immortal souls joined the assembly. For hours, he held his position until the hour struck 4 a.m.

At that point, 17 Immortal Spirits gathered perplexed at the foot of Klaus’s bed. Midway through, he even dozed off, rousing only as Paragon reintegrated into his soul sea.

The nocturnal tally closed at 17 fatalities, a testament to the statement he aimed to deliver.

Observing their baffled expressions, Klaus grinned.

"You’re assembled here because you figured claiming 10 billion Heaven Crystals meant merely ending me. I cautioned you, but evidently, as the proverb states, witnessing trumps hearing.

You sought to witness, and witness you did. So savor the sight, for henceforth, your existences fall under my dominion.

I shall forge all 17 of you into weapon spirits, thus employ the lingering days of the blood tournament to reconcile with your altered fates."

With those words, he gestured, and they disappeared, reemerging within his soul sea. He ensured their placement in his initial star core, amid thousands of suspended armaments looming above.

This served as his declaration that such would be their eternal abode.

Not every armament could host a weapon spirit. Nonetheless, over a hundred in his arsenal awaited suitable essences, promising immense potential.

Eventually, his Weapons Overlord class would emerge as a fearsome force across all realms.

The power to let weapons battle autonomously with minimal oversight would undoubtedly thrill any wielder.

Thus, this night yielded 17 Immortal Spirits for conversion into weapon spirits. Come dawn, should challengers persist despite his warning, their numbers would swell further.

In any case, the night’s rich yield was the true victory.