Medieval Gacha Lord

Humphrey stared in astonishment at the "monster" opposite him, which seemed to have been utterly reborn in the blink of an eye.

Yes, that was right, a monster! That terrifying aura simply couldn't be possessed by a human. Rather, it was another kind of monster, one that also fed on humans, but clearly belonged to a higher tier on the food chain.

He forcibly suppressed the fear rising in his heart and demanded, "What in damnation are you?"

On Lothar's fingertip, the ring exuding an ominous aura abruptly shattered, transforming into a giant stone gargoyle that spread its wings behind Lothar, then slowly folded them.

The terrifying aura surging within Lothar finally stabilized. He lifted the magnificent magic sword condensed from blood magic power in his hand, gave it a light swing, and found it quite comfortable to wield.

He looked the completely inhuman Humphrey up and down and chuckled lightly. "That question should be mine to ask you."

[Milestone Activated: Act of Deicide]

[Profile: You are facing an ancient god, a relic from a distant age. The severance of faith and the changes of eras have weakened it sufficiently. To survive, the god can no longer command the four elements of earth, fire, wind, and water; all it can rely on are its claws and teeth, corroded by divine power, and its incomparably fragile true body.

In its current state, it is so weak that even a mortal body has the possibility of defying and slaying a god.

Kill it, and you will obtain a special talent focused on enhancing personal combat power.

In the ancient ages when polytheism still thrived along the Mediterranean coast, every warrior who slew a god was called a "hero" of humanity. And heroes deserve to be commended.]

The air grew thick. Humphrey's nostrils filled with a dense, bloody stench. He retreated uneasily.

Blood-red flames, radiating an ominous aura, swirled around Lothar. This was the external manifestation of his internal blood magic power, already overflowing.

Through Humphrey's eyes, Lothar's blood-red pupils reflected a dim, secret chamber. Within it, white candlelight illuminated an ancient idol, the greater part of its body veiled in darkness: the Crocodile God. One of the long-lost ancient Egyptian deities.

***

The sharp, blood-red blade was both light and keen. When it sliced through the air, the feeling of weightlessness, as if encountering no resistance at all, made Lothar's swordsmanship even more unpredictable.

That instinct, seemingly already etched into Lothar's DNA—the swordsmanship honed by the original owner through countless sessions on the training ground—was, at this moment, unleashed to its fullest.

Humphrey's tough, scale-covered body was soon riddled with wounds from the blood sword. Bloodfall, seemingly activating without pause, doubled his attributes. Paired with the bizarre and unpredictable blood magic, Humphrey simply had no strength left to counter.

"Damn it! This magic sword... it's absorbing my blood!"

A layer of human-like terror spread across Humphrey's face. The wildness in his heart was rapidly receding. The power bestowed upon him by the Crocodile God was swiftly draining away, like water from a breached dam.

"Save me, Milord!" He murmured in a low voice.

The next moment, an even greater power abruptly descended upon Humphrey's body. His aura began to surge.

Lothar, however, advanced instead of retreating. His beast-like intuition allowed him to keenly sense the critical opportunity hidden within this seemingly perilous moment. The blood sword in his hand, with a precision that seemed to account for even the slightest deviation, shot forward, viciously piercing Humphrey's spine.

The infusion of power was interrupted. This was immediately followed by a horizontal slash. A lizard-like head, covered in scales, flew high into the air.

As Humphrey's body crumpled, the blood sword stabbed down once more. In the darkness, the blood-red color of its blade grew even more vivid, like a blood rose, alluringly beautiful after drinking its fill.

In a flash, as swift as a hare starting and a falcon falling, he had completed the sequence: severing its power source, a fatal blow by decapitation, and a follow-up stab, just in case the enemy's vitality was too tenacious.

"Truly formidable. That waste was no match for you. Care to serve me? I can grant you power, wealth, and an infinite lifespan." A cold and majestic voice sounded. In the corridor, the lamps relit, projecting a savage black shadow on the wall.

"Stop bluffing. A pseudo-god clinging to existence, a relic of a bygone era that has long lost its divine glory, and you want me to serve you?" A trace of disdain appeared on Lothar's cold face. He sneered, "Are you even worthy?"

The black shadow froze in place, seemingly not expecting Lothar to know its condition so well. For a long while, there was no reply.

Only when Lothar took a step, heading in the direction his intuition guided him, did a voice, feigning majesty, sound again, "Halt, mortal! Let's say you've won this time. I will pay a sufficient price to satisfy you—this is just like the rules of your human nobles' games, isn't it?"

A somewhat savage smile slowly spread across Lothar's face. "That Noonwraith, it was under your control, wasn't it? You spied on us through it, then tried to devour us through Humphrey to restore your decrepit body?"

The voice admitted it frankly, "Indeed. Even if this is no longer my era, as an old god, there is still much I can do. Just offer me blood sacrifices, and I can grant you immense aid. I can even transform an army of men like Humphrey, all crocodile-men, for you. You will, by this, rise to become a monarch, even rule all Frankish overseas territories. The price is but some small blood sacrifices." The Crocodile God tried to tempt him with earnest persuasion.

"That is indeed tempting. I need to consider it." Though he said he was considering, his steps showed no sign of stopping.

"Enough! Halt, mortal!" That voice grew shrill. "If you advance further, we will be in a situation of no return, a fight to the death! Even if it means perishing, I will make you pay the price!"

Lothar stopped before a stone wall. He smiled. "You are afraid, aren't you? This emotion is truly delightful."

Lothar swung his sword. The stone wall before him instantly crumbled, revealing a giant half-man, half-crocodile stone statue behind it. A violent airflow rushed in, extinguishing the white candles one by one. An overwhelmingly suffocating majesty, like a storm, swept out, pressing down on Lothar.

The Crocodile God's tone was no longer calm, replaced by a rather exasperated and furious question, "What exactly do you want?!"

Lothar's smile was polite, like that of an ancient blood noble. He enunciated each word, "De-i-cide!"

The next moment, his figure exploded into countless small bats. Where he had stood, a giant mouth hidden in darkness suddenly gaped open—a massive crocodile maw.

The bats reconverged, reforming Lothar's body. Without hesitation, he swung the blood sword, hacking at the idol. The blood-red flames swirling around him all poured into the blood sword, making its color even more vivid, more dazzling.

He completely ignored a crocodile, dark as shadow, whose terrifying claws were lunging at his back from behind.

"No! Are you mad? What enmity do we possibly have between us?" The Crocodile God simply couldn't understand what it had done to drive this human extraordinary to such lengths, to risk his own life just to achieve mutual destruction.

Lothar's movements didn't pause for an instant. This ruthless approach, leaving himself no way out, completely enraged the Crocodile God. It let out an earth-shattering roar, "You want to be a deicide? Then be a dead one!"

'Clang—' Almost simultaneously, the blood sword pierced the stone idol, and the crocodile's claws dug into Lothar's chest.

Lothar gently touched his chest, which should have been pierced by the Crocodile God's claws. Beneath the torn silk formal suit, not even a layer of skin was broken—Banu's talent, Unbreakable. When activated, it grants immunity to all damage for three seconds.

He bowed humbly, as if taking a curtain call after a grand performance.