Reaper of the Martial World

Book 13: Chapter 34: Madnesss

Dyon burst through the front line. Like a corpse that had lost his mind, his movements were erratic and unrestrained. It felt as though he had no rhyme or reason to his actions, yet every step he took led to the death of another.

His scythe moved so quickly that it looked no different from a black whip curving through the air, blood curdling screams and fountains of crimson graced his every step.

It was an army of trillions, yet the entirety of their intention was trained on a single man. Not a single one seemed capable of stepping past the line this man had drawn.

Dyon leapt up, his feet dripping with blood, collapsing the chest of a golden armor Sapientia. Even as this warrior was sent flying backward, the curved blade of Dyon’s scythe appeared in its path, causing the warrior’s head to be severed from the back of his neck.

Dyon’s chain lashed out, wrapping around three warriors at once. A single flex of his forearm caused them to burst into a bloody rain.

It was gruesome beyond compare. Their faces turned red, their eyes bulged to the point of falling from their sockets, all before their bones were crumpled together one after another, leaving nothing but a flood of flesh.

Dyon didn’t even remain on the scene for more than a split moment, his body had already flashed forward once more.

His feet appeared on either side of a warrior’s neck. With one swift motion, his chain snaked downward, wrapping around that Sapientia’s head and ripping it from his shoulders.

Dyon kicked the headless corpse away so forcefully that it shattered the bones of those unfortunate enough to end up in its path.

His scythe whipped forward once more, spinning so quickly in his hands that it almost looked like the blades of a helicopter. Sometimes it was to his side, sometimes above his head, sometimes to his front. However, without fail, anyone who came in contact with it would find their bodies severed.

Blood and carnage rained with his every step. The scourge of the Immortal Plane had come back. But even with those tales of years gone by to warn them of this moment, it somehow felt that they had never seen something like this before. It felt as though a God of Death was standing before them all.

They completely forgot about the others of the Mortal Army. They only had thoughts of taking this man down. They knew that if they couldn’t take this man down, any thoughts of victory would be impossible.

But wasn’t it just one man? One man against trillions. Wasn’t the result obvious? There was nothing to fear.

Unfortunately… thinking this was one matter… but what was the reality of it all?

This man didn’t seem to know pain, he didn’t know fatigue, he didn’t know mercy. He wanted them all to die. He wouldn’t be satisfied until they all fell beneath his blade, until the blood of trillions dripped from his body.

SSSSKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Dyon’s head tilted into the skies, the sea of black that was his hair spreading out without restraint. It was as though he wanted to turn the world to ashes.

In the blink of an eye, everything within hundreds of miles of him became nothing but

charred bone. It was just a single breath of time, but hundreds of thousands of them had fallen.

Abraxus and the First White Mother watched on with deep frowns on their faces. Among those of the world, it would be too difficult to find two who understood Dyon more than them. There was a reason why instead of attacking Dyon while he was holding Madeleine’s corpse, they directly decided to retreat.

Even as a mortal, they didn’t dare to underestimate this man. But there were some things that had to be done.

So what if he had already taken out so many of them? There were trillions. If a few hundred thousand weren’t enough, they would send millions. If millions weren’t enough, they’d send billions.

This sort of lineup, even for the Nameless Immortal God, a legend of countless

generations, wasn’t something that could be won against.

It wasn’t a surprise then that countless wounds soon began appearing on Dyon’s body. No. It could be said that he had already been covered in wounds from the very moment he had stepped onto the battlefield. Hadn’t he just been fighting Aritzia with everything he had?

Fists, spears, swords, axes, rods, daggers, even the horns of the beasts that pulled their chariots pierced into his body one after another. Yet, it seemed that even if his heart was dug out of his chest, he would never stop.

Dyon ripped out a sword that had stabbed into his chest so violently that he drew a large scar across his own body. However, he didn’t even seem to notice.

His chains wrapped around his fists as he punched out, directly shattering the sword woman’s head into bits of red and white flesh.

SSSSKKKKRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Dyon’s vajra body appeared to his back. Violent streaks of golden lightning tinged with violet descended from the skies. Every time one fell, hundreds would lose their lives.

In that same instant, the grey lands beneath his feet began to move once more. Countless skeleton warriors ripped their way up from the ground, starting a bloody massacre that sent waves over the Sapientia army.

Dyon walked forward, the wounds in his chest so grievous that it was possible to see his beating heart through his ribcage.

Veins of black and gold pulsed along his heart, making it look somewhat majestic and demonic at the same time. It seemed as though he was a

Corpse Emperor who had been awakened from his slumber, unwilling to rest again until the world followed him into eternal damnation.

His eyes had become pits of absolute darkness, wafting out a black fog with his every step. He alone could destroy the world, he alone was invincible.

For daring to kill his wife… He would send them all to an early grave.

Dyon’s weapon’s pagoda opened, allowing countless weapons to fly into Reaper. At the same time, Little Chibi appeared in the skies, slamming down with a gravity that could crush the bones of even Immortal Gods.

A javelin pierced through the air, slamming into Dyon’s chest before he could react.

He stumbled a single step backward, but even as he did so, he ripped the blade from his chest, his

blackened bones only suffering the smallest of cracks.

He raised the javelin, his body bending like a bow as his back flexed.

BANG!

Space shattered the moment his hand released it.

The javelin streaked through the skies, leaving shards of glass like pieces of space and void qi in its wake.

It took no longer than the blink of an eye for the javelin thrower to have his head splintered in two.

At first, the javelin left nothing but a small bloody hole. But, long after that very same javelin had pierced into the warriors to the thrower’s back, the latter’s head suddenly imploded, his skull blooming open like a grotesque flower.

At that moment, Ysabell was panicking. Dyon had already reached the line of defense her elven clan had retreated to. But, there was no place to move further back. And, even if there was, would she dare to take that chance?

She had always known that despite the numbers advantage they had, some were still destined to die. But… she never imagined for even a moment that she would be among those to suffer.

“Band together! Release!” Ysabell roared.

The skies were filled with the manifestations of Ancient Elves.

However, they all seemed to pale in comparison to Dyon’s seven vajra bodies. He seemed like an undefeatable God, reaping their lives one after another as though they were worth nothing more than weeds.

With every step a head was severed. With every swing of his scythe another life was reaped. With every whip of his chain, another rain of blood fell.

Ysabell trembled uncontrollably.

She had always thought that the legends were overblown. Though Dyon had humiliated her, he never instilled her with a sense of fear or trepidation. He always seemed more like a good natured big brother, teasing her without regard for her face.

It was only today she knew how true those legends were.

This was the madman willing to burn the world down beneath his rage, his anger.

Even to this point, even after Dyon’s presence no longer blocked them from attacking the army to his back, no one had time to care about the Mortal Empire’s army. They all attacked him

with everything they had. They already understood that it was either he died, or they all died.

By the time Ysabell accepted this, there was already a bloody hole in her chest.

Dyon kicked her corpse off of his arm as though she was just another one of the countless bits of canon fodder that filled the battlefield. He didn’t care about her status or any of theirs, for that matter. He just wanted them all to die.

He wanted to see their corpses fall beneath his might, he wanted to reap their souls and pull their hearts from their chests. He wanted them to understand the pain his wife felt, each and every one of them.

The First White Mother’s brow deeply furrowed.

“Release them. This ends today.” She said emotionlessly.

The skies trembled once again. The void beasts had appeared.