The first thing the Incarnate had thought about when he felt the raging waves of power exploding from the figure on the throne, was what his experiences back in his old life had taught him to do when dealing with offended important officials. Whether it be a King, a Prince, or a nobleman, a foot soldier of no renown like him would have to bow and express an unreal degree of humility and make himself not look like anything worth punishing. This lesson from a past life was indispensable right now. The Incarnate had realized that the man seated on the throne was without a doubt King Alabas. Flying Reaper Sword. It had been an error on his part to not show a King the respect he deserved from the start, and thus why he begged to be forgiven. Unbeknownst to him, however, the simple gesture he did – planting himself low so meaningfully – eased the King’s fierce emotion, and he decided against doing him any harm. “Tell me. Who are you?” Alabas asked. “What manner of bravery or foolishne
The Incarnate was smitten silly by all that Alabas said, but also all the pieces that seemed to come together. It wasn’t really a surprise to him that once he entered the darkness, he couldn’t leave. He doubted that the Valiant Subject’s Ward’s enchantment was capable of defying the sorcerous darkness to that extent. What stunned him, however, was the fact that he might have been able to change this. According to Alabas, Marar’bel cast the curse that allowed her sons to persist for many years on Alabas and told him that if he should escape this darkness someday, his children would be waiting for him, but she would long be dead. This meant… ‘If I had destroyed the remaining source of Spirit Essence fuelling the Sorcery keeping this darkness up, things would have been different right now…’ he thought in dread. That was why he wasn’t given more Incarnation Points in the last stage! However, this was the least of the Incarnate’s worries. Possibly because of that blunder on his part
The Demonling felt an intense, pulsing sting as blood poured from his face, neck and chest, but at the same time, a fiercely hot sensation ran through his body, empowering it tremendously even as he gasped in agony.The Incarnate, no, Arlosse had been blessed with 10 additional points to each of his physical attributes – which didn’t include his Spirit Essence – and his body, which had already been anomalous, took especially kindly to the overwhelming burst of power that surged in him.His bleeding slowed until it stopped, and then the wounds he had sustained, the torn skin from the first slash that had reached him, inched inward, attempting to mend themselves in real-time.Arlosse shook.He took long, deep breaths, attempting to relax himself, but his body refused to calm down. His instincts and nerves were rattled. Before the bliss that was the abundant strength in the form of attribute points, there had been the crippling fear brought on by sure and absolute death.The Incarnate ha
Arlosse felt himself fall through a familiar pool of darkness that was so vast and so tranquil that it would most definitely drive a weaker soul to madness with enough time. Suddenly, the throne where Alabas sat – split – had vanished from sight as did the remains of his royal residence.This experience was quite like how it was when the Incarnate was first dragged into this afterlife establishment known as ‘Prospect For Reincarnation’; right before his Incarnation.Because Arlosse recalled that experience vividly, he wasn’t startled. He knew there was a destination, and soon enough, he reached it.He landed safely within a perfectly cubical space with a twilight fog hue to it.This was the Isolated Foyer of New Beginnings, the cramped space within which he had been given a crash course on everything to do with ‘Prospect For Reincarnation’.Thankfully, unlike before, when Arlosse was merely a floating consciousness, he had his full Demonling body this time.He retained his odd body, f
Arlosse immediately set out to test if he could use Reform to heal himself. He had several questions about its mechanics that he needed to confirm, but he figured a practical test would answer most of them in one go.As he thought, it did.Upon choosing to use Reform with a mere trigger of his will, Arlosse instinctively placed his hand on his chest where the damage was most severe. To his surprise, a faint globe of solid orange light appeared around his hand and highlighted his tattered tunic as well as the skin on his chest which rose and fell as he breathed.The way the Far Ji expressed itself was just like how its power manifested from the candle beside Alabas’ throne. It was astonishing, mesmerising even.However, a minute passed. Then ten.Nothing happened.Arlosse quickly convinced himself that this wasn’t too surprising. The Limit on Reform was that each successful usage of it would cost him half an hour’s worth of time.Indeed, it was quite frustrating, but a Unique Quality’s
[You have arrived on the SECOND FLOOR, the Crucible of Twin-faced Hope]As the Host Guide announced the strange name of the new Floor, Arlosse hardly registered it in his head. His mind was a bit preoccupied trying to reconcile that he was back in a place like this, the home of death, its emissaries and victims, all of whom raged senselessly – recklessly – as though possessed by devils.Blood spilled every which way the Incarnate looked.Bones crunched under the feet of whinnying horses and tamed, canine beasts he didn’t recognise.Flesh squelched, torn open for all to see the unsightly beauty it hid.The scorching orange sun above, merciless and uncompromising, seemed determined to make all the thousands of corpses lying about look as insignificant, shameful and irrelevant as possible by arousing the stink within them, summoning flies and starved critters in the dry, rocky desert.Human men and women with assortments of armour roared, their steel clashing against that of enemies whil
When it happened, it took a great portion of the wide battlefield by storm.There had been no prelude – no surge of Spirit Essence, marking its advent known.When Arlosse opened the Hermetic Vault, he didn’t hesitate to send out one of the Immaterial Slashes he had stored from his exchange with King Alabas, the Flying Reaper Sword.To maximize damage, ensuring that he caught the largest body count possible, which would immediately free him from the crowd of assailants, he had the disembodied slash materialize an inch from him, its lethal edge lateral.A loud noise, not too dissimilar to a vicious boom rolled out across the battlefield.Because of the sheer speed the Immaterial Slash charged forth with, it butchered nearly fifty bodies directly in front of the Hollow Demonling at once, creating a sound akin to an explosion. Those who had been struck barely registered that their lives were forfeit, but the attack itself neither waited nor cared.It traveled far and wide, culling human,
“What did you have to kill many of our own for, you fool?!”“Uhh…” Arlosse murmured, unsure how he was to answer this question if it even required him to give a lengthy explanation.Besides being stunned by the question, the Incarnate was also taken aback by the appearance of his fellow demon.Back in his old days, Arlosse wouldn’t have pegged himself as someone who had any right to judge another individual’s appearance. He didn’t have that luxury and wasn’t exactly a handsome model of a man himself.However, today… right now…Long story short, the poison green half-mantis, half-caterpillar creature packed before him, dressed in leather armor and shawl that somehow fit it perfectly well… was atrociously hideous!It had a thick, black chitinous layer on its back that extended to its small head, which was decorated by dark, beady eyes and sharp mandibles that clacked when it spoke.“Well? How are you going to explain this to the Generals? And come to think of it… How come I’ve never see