Chapter 155: Aetos Ctor.Dawn

An overwhelmingly fierce spirituality descended and erupted from the king.

"What?!"

The three of them were dumbfounded, utterly unable to comprehend what was happening.

They could feel the king's spirituality expanding at an unbelievable speed. What was previously like a candle flickering in a dying wind was now a raging wildfire consuming the entire mountain forest.

Without a moment of hesitation, Darsitumon swung his arm downward, and countless spears plummeted from the heavens!

Every single spear possessed immense piercing power, capable of easily puncturing a knight's battle shield.

Clang!

A sword's cry rang through the firmament once again, and ten thousand feet of golden light descended from the sky, shattering thousands of golden spears into dust.

"I have never had the right to choose; I have only ever had the right to be chosen. The royal bloodline is like this, talent is like this, and the throne is like this." The King of Dawn raised his hand and gently gripped the hilt of the sword. The moment he firmly grasped the Sword of Dawn, the entire heaven and earth trembled.

Boom!

A gigantic pillar of light soared into the sky, churning the boundless firmament.

The faint glimmer after dawn, the primordial light guiding all things.

The glory of antiquity awakened, and whispers spanning time and space echoed in the ears, singing, proclaiming, chanting, and roaring.

"If it benefits the country in life and death, how can one speak of personal dignity?"

Darsitumon roared, "What are you idiots waiting for? Kill this old bastard!"

The gourd behind his back spat out more golden sand, rapidly forming the shape of a whale.

The remaining two no longer hesitated either. Their presences surged violently, and the terrifying spirituality distorted the surrounding air.

"Don't hold back! Kill this old bastard, or the one who dies might be us!"

He had no idea what kind of dark sorcery the King of Dawn had used to unleash such astonishing spirituality, which, in less than a minute, was already closing in on their level.

The whale plummeted from the sky, azure radiance descended, and green venom transformed into a small, slithering snake.

Boom!

The earth shook violently, the little green snake burst open with a loud bang, and a thousand-mile radius of land instantly turned pitch black.

The combined attack of three high-tier powerhouses—let alone lower-tier transcendents—was something even their peers might not necessarily be able to withstand.

Darsitumon, Daniel, and Duchi Sheng looked down with solemn expressions. Amidst the billowing dust, they could not perceive anything clearly.

"Is he dead?" Darsitumon asked.

As the words left his mouth, a surge of spirituality erupted from below.

A flash of golden light pierced through the dust, and a terrifying wind pressure capable of tearing the roofs off houses blew the debris away.

Feeling the torrential power surging within his body, the King of Dawn cracked a wild, maniacal grin as red light continuously seeped out from the dense web of cracks covering his body.

Those red fissures were like abysses, brimming with a senseless, frenzied madness.

"Hahahaha! Is this true transcendence? How intoxicating, how deeply yearned for."

He was breaking through!

Under such circumstances, he had actually completed a breakthrough, pushing open the doors of transcendence in a fraction of a moment!

"This is impossible! Trash who had to rely on piles of resources for decades just to reach the third tier—how could he possibly push open the doors of transcendence?!" Darsitumon's eyes split with fury, unable to accept the scene before him.

A breakthrough in the heat of battle was actually not uncommon. The reason those privileged transcendents chose to become monster hunters was precisely for the chance to fight monsters, seeking the opportunity for a breakthrough between life and death while honing their skills.

For a transcendent, a breakthrough in combat was akin to a lottery draw; the probability was even lower than post-natal awakening, and the danger was extraordinarily high. Surviving a life-or-death crisis did not guarantee a breakthrough; the vast majority would simply be left crippled.

Without exception, those who could break through were extraordinary individuals whose talent, skill, or willpower far surpassed the vast majority.

And this coward who only knew how to kneel and concede had nothing to do with any of that!

Daniel wore a grave expression as he gazed upon those bizarre cracks, a faint suspicion dawning in his mind.

"That suddenly skyrocketing spirituality, this kind of tyrannical, malevolent aura... It is 'Self-Slaying'! He is burning his life!"

There were countless transcendental spells in this world. Nearly every high-tier powerhouse would, based on their own foundation and understanding of transcendence, create spells entirely unique to themselves. On the surface, these spells were largely similar, all built on modifying existing frameworks to create spell corridors that perfectly suited them.

For instance, transcendental spells concerning fire were mostly built upon the framework of the Fireball spell.

Over millions of years, countless geniuses had emerged in an endless stream, and the number of spell corridors was vast and boundless. The vast majority of spells created by high-tier powerhouses could not be preserved and vanished along with their creators. Only the most exquisite and unsurpassable spell corridors survived, spreading across the world over long stretches of time to become known to most.

Self-Slaying was one of them—a spell corridor bordering on sheer madness. After up to several months of preparation, it allowed the user to gain formidable power and even break through their original realm.

Slaying the body, slaying fate, slaying the spirit.

And this miraculous power came at a price. That price was the user's everything: physical body, lifespan, spirituality, soul... Once this spell was unleashed, there was no turning back.

Stage one: Slaying the body. Physical condition would ultimately decline, and the user would endure excruciating agony at every moment. Many the uninitiated would die of pain during this stage.

Stage two: Slaying fate. The corridor successfully imprinted upon the flesh, the spell officially took effect, the pain vanished, and the lifespan began to steadily dwindle, fixed and awaiting the final eruption.

This manifested as strange wounds appearing on the body, a sign that the physical form could no longer withstand the power of Self-Slaying.

Stage three: Slaying the spirit. The spell erupted completely, power surged exponentially, and the soul began to burn.

This manifested as the red light bleeding from the cracks.

Burning everything for a single moment of brilliance—to hear the Dao in the morning and die in the evening was enough.

This spell was easy to acquire, much like the Fireball spell, but it was not nearly as easy to cast. Though they had lived for centuries, none of them had ever witnessed anyone succeed.

After all, very few people would ever attempt such a point-of-no-return spell.

Yet today, the King of Dawn seemed to have succeeded.

A trace of fear flashed in the eyes of Darsitumon, hidden behind his golden mask. Before he could make a move, a loud crash echoed from below, and a flash of golden light was already upon him.

Danger!

Darsitumon instinctively gathered his sand, wrapping himself in absolute protection.

Boom!

A violent crash resounded. The brilliant golden light pierced through the sand, and the silvery-white blade grazed past his shoulder, missing his head by a mere half-finger's breadth.

The terrifying spirituality emanated by the Sword of Dawn broke him out in a cold sweat.

"Darsitumon, do you have any idea how exhilarating this feels right now?" A wild grin plastered the king's face, chilling to the bone.

"Don't get too full of yourself, you old fogey!" Darsitumon resisted with fury, the sand shifting ceaselessly, transforming into spikes as if endowed with life.

Clang!

Wisps of formless golden light blocked the spikes.

The Sword of Dawn radiated an ancient and distant aura, freezing the churning sands in place.

The Sand Gourd was actually terrified!

"Ever since I was a child, everyone treated me like trash! Trash with no talent whatsoever, who only knew how to eat, drink, and make merry! I was willing to be trash; I liked women, I liked luxury, I liked eating, drinking, and making merry! I could have lived out my entire life like that—wouldn't that have been wonderful?"

Boom!

Darsitumon was kicked flying, his body hurtling backward like a cannonball before crashing heavily into the ground like a shooting star.

"Why are you people always so self-righteous? If I had the capability, who would want to kneel to you?! Who would want to send their children away?! Who would want to play the fool?!"

Seeing this, Daniel and Duchi Sheng fled into the distance without a moment's hesitation.

The soft fear the hard, the hard fear the reckless, and the reckless fear those who want nothing to do with their lives.

Regardless of everything else, the King of Dawn was going to die anyway; there was no need to risk their lives fighting him to the death. As for Darsitumon, that fellow could fend for himself—he had brought this entirely upon himself.

Clang!

A gigantic blade of light, over a thousand meters long, soared into the sky. Carrying an unstoppable momentum, it slashed across the firmament!

The two hurriedly scrambled to dodge, but after all, they could not outrun light.

Boom!

The terrifying force instantly shattered all their defenses, leaving wounds of varying sizes on each of their bodies.

They plummeted from the sky, blood spraying into the air, their mouths agape and eyes filled with utter disbelief.

So strong! How could he be this strong?!

"None of it matters anymore. I am already so tired."

The three powerhouses who had just been high and mighty, floating in mid-air, crashed back down to the mortal realm. Covered in dust and dirt, they scrambled up from the ground in utter wretchedness.

The king stood tall in the sky. The Sword of Dawn in his hand hummed incessantly, radiating an ancient, majestic, and distant aura.

His face, covered in red, fracturing fissures, twisted hideously as he let out a senseless, maniacal laugh.

"Heh hahaha! To hell with the damn throne! To hell with responsibility! The King of Dawn is dead! Now! Hear my name: Atoscto Dawn!"