Chapter 156: Did You Win?

The afterglow of sunset dyed the sky in crimson, and manic laughter echoed through the air.

Atoskto Dawn.

A very ancient name, a name forgotten by everyone, a name that should have vanished the moment he took up the Sword of Dawn.

From beginning to end, the world remembered only the King of Dawn, a shackle weighing down upon them like a massive mountain. As for his actual name, no one cared, and no one ever spoke it.

He was the King of Dawn, the monarch of a declining nation, a spineless coward, a king who knew only how to kneel on the ground and beg for peace.

I am good for nothing, without a single shred of talent, a worthless piece of trash who knows only how to eat, drink, and make merry.

Thud!

His heartbeat sounded like rolling thunder, pale strands of hair dancing in the wind. The red radiance of burning soul and flesh was tiny yet dazzling.

Like a firefly in the pitch-black night, exceptionally minuscule, incapable of illuminating anything, yet intensely radiant and resilient.

Thud!

Another strong and powerful heartbeat.

I am Atoskto Dawn.

Thud!

"It's Mingxin! He's about to complete his breakthrough! The two of you cover me, I need to prepare a high-tier spell," Daniel roared.

Disregarding the still-turbulent spirituality within his body, he stepped forward, taking one step as two, walking with a strange gait.

When the fourth step fell, a shimmering stream of water materialized out of thin air, spreading outward with him at the center. Like azure ink, it devoured the earth charred black by the napalm burns.

In just a few seconds, the water formed a circle a thousand meters in diameter, with a unicorn silver fish appearing at its center. The air was permeated with the salty scent exclusive to the ocean.

Every high-tier powerhouse was extraordinary; they always differed from ordinary people in certain aspects, constructing one, several, or even dozens of spell corridors exclusively their own. These spell corridors might not be as refined as widely circulated spells, and indeed, one could say that the so-called exclusive spells of most people merely desecrated basic spells.

Creating a spell corridor uniquely one's own was not about surpassing original spells, but about finding a method that suited oneself. An exclusive spell might lack the refinement of a basic spell, but it ensured that the developer could release it stably, effectively, and swiftly every single time.

Stability was its greatest advantage.

Tiny droplets of water emerged from the ground, drifting in the air, guided by some unseen force to converge and form a very rough arc, which upon closer inspection vaguely resembled the prototype of a bow.

"Ten minutes. Do not let me be disturbed," Daniel's bright eyes flashed with azure spiritual light, echoing the corridor beneath his feet.

He could effortlessly summon many high-tier spells at will, but crushing the madman before him required a much larger spell.

A spell of his own pride, adapted from the high-tier spell Torrent.

During Daniel's preparation, the other two had regrouped, taking to the air through their respective means.

After a brief shock, they had recovered. No matter how incredible it seemed, the reality was right before their eyes. The King of Dawn was no longer the worthless wretch they could trample at will; he was now a ferocious tiger driven mad.

To cling to their previous mindset in this situation would be sheer suicide. Even the most arrogant Dathimun had to adjust his mindset and treat the King of Dawn seriously.

Though they exchanged few words, a tacit understanding was reached in the span of just a few breaths.

Dathimun initiated the attack with sand once again. Seemingly endless sand poured from his gourd, piling up within breaths into a giant hundreds of meters tall, lacking a lower body.

The giant's body merged with the earth, transforming into solid grit and rock. It raised its hands and brought them together, clapping down toward the King of Dawn—no, toward Atoskto Dawn.

In truth, he was not adept at direct combat. This seemingly formidable sand was fine for bullying mortals, but utterly negligible against powerhouses of different tiers, let alone a madman performing the severance of the self while wielding a tremendously formidable royal artifact.

Whenever he fought peers of his own level, he usually played dirty, relying on the gourd's defense to grind opponents to death.

Faced with the two colossal palms whistling toward him, Atoskto raised a hand and waved it gently. The blade swept past, instantly forming a massive golden crescent.

The sand giant's right hand was severed in an instant. Atoskto retreated half a step, his figure flickering to evade the remaining palm.

At that moment, the stone giant's left hand, which had previously struck empty air, exploded with a bang. Shrapnel flew toward Atoskto at an incredible speed, fragments of all sizes shaped like rhombuses and coated with a layer of earthy-yellow spirituality.

That was no ordinary debris, but one of the fundamental techniques: Shrapnel.

Exquisite combinatory magic, and then...

Clang!

A lunar wheel even larger than before traced a perfect arc in the air, and all incoming attacks instantly turned to dust.

At this, Dathimun did not show the surprise he had earlier; he was growing somewhat accustomed to this power.

Chanting esoteric and obscure language like a shaman performing a ritual, dark red liquid actually flowed from the gourd.

Thick, foul, and nauseating, as if it teemed with countless ferocious and agonizing faces.

The very next moment, dazzling light descended from the sky, splitting the stone giant directly in two and leaving behind a deep fissure. The eerie dark red liquid evaporated instantly, and a piercing wail faintly echoed in the air.

Amidst the radiance, Dathimun's exposed mouth parted slightly, his face masked in gold filled with terror. Before he could make any movement, a pale and crimson figure was already standing right in front of him.

What?! Why won't my body listen to me?!

Dathimun roared internally, trying to break free from this strange phenomenon. Yet despite exerting every ounce of his strength, his body failed to respond to his will.

The old man before him did not possess such power; this power came from the Sword of Dawn. This bizarre sword was, after years of silence, displaying its might once again.

A face covered in cracks, eyes of immaculate purity, and a suffocating strength!

"Dathimun, the arm, the head, the thigh, or the third leg—which one do you choose?" Atoskto cracked a grin, his manic and ferocious smile resembling that of a demon.

"Bastard! Die, you old fogey!" Dathimun broke free from the restraint with all his might, throwing a punch forward.

"It seems you chose the arm."

The blade swept past, an arm accompanied by erupting blood scattering into the air.

"Ahhhhh!" Dathimun shrieked in agonizing pain. "Duchisheng! You bastard, why aren't you attacking yet?!"

The bleeding stopped instantly, but the power of the Sword of Dawn had already entered his body, destroying his flesh and spirituality.

Boom!

A deafening sonic boom rang out. A fist larger than a human head, carrying a howling gale, slammed heavily into Atoskto's back. The terrifying force crashed against his body, forming a massive wave of air.

Duchisheng's swollen, ugly face cracked into an unsightly grin.

"Heh-heh-heh-heh! Dathimun, you really are useless. Why don't you hand the gourd over to me..."

Before he could finish, Duchisheng suddenly choked, abruptly realizing he had not made contact with the King of Dawn.

Just as he wanted to pull back, a pair of large hands nonetheless grabbed his face, the terrifying strength driving fingers deep into his flesh.

Emerald-green liquid splattered, corroding those presumptuous hands.

Faced with his smoking palms, Atoskto showed no expression of pain; instead, the frantic laughter on his face grew only more intense.

Like a madman, a completely unbridled wild horse.

Rip!

Large swaths of skin along with his nose were torn clean off, and the Sword of Dawn in his hand slashed toward Duchisheng.

Duchisheng dodged in a panic, the brilliant blade of light brushing past his head.

Nearby, Dathimun once again wearily summoned a whale.

The brilliant blade of light sliced the whale apart, and the scattered sand transformed into various weapons and fierce beasts.

A highly toxic mist billowed outward, and his bulky body erupted with astonishing strength, every movement accompanied by a thunderous roar.

Brilliant golden light flashed incessantly, giant blades of light illuminating the sky as miniature suns rapidly swelled and detonated. The sky flickered on and off, visible from thousands of miles away.

The battle among high-tier powerhouses had erupted in full.

Dathimun and Duchisheng cautiously evaded attack after attack, teetering on the brink of catastrophic injury every single second. Every strike from the King of Dawn was fatal to them; the slightest graze meant either death or severe injury.

If the previous King of Dawn was like a child wielding a weapon, blindly swinging power granted by the Sword of Dawn, the current King of Dawn was still blindly wielding massive power—only he was no longer a child, but an eight-foot-tall behemoth with arms thicker than thighs.

Wielding a heavy brick in his hand, regardless of technique, one brick down and even a world champion would be left weeping.

This was the predicament they faced. The terrifying power erupting from the severance of the self combined with the Sword of Dawn was beyond their capacity to resist. The only consolation was that the King of Dawn's combat experience remained abysmal, leaving them room to breathe and maneuver.

"Daniel! You bastard, are you ready yet or not? We can't hold on much longer!" Duchisheng dodged a barrage of light blades with difficulty, the wounds on his face already healing.

Yet that was merely superficial; the truly dire crisis lay in his spirituality and interior. Within less than ten minutes of intense combat, the greater part of their spirituality had been depleted, and they had expended almost every ounce of strength to tussle with the King of Dawn.

His wounds grew heavier by the moment, yet there was still no sign of the King of Dawn burning out.

"If this goes on, I'm going to be beaten to death! I'm running away!"

Though he said that, in truth, neither of them could escape. Two people fighting the King of Dawn had almost been beaten to death by his flurry of chaotic blows; fighting him alone meant a single brick to the grave. Once the first person was eliminated, the King of Dawn would hunt down the second, picking them off one by one.

Ultimately, no one would survive, or perhaps two would die to protect one.

That was precisely why they stayed behind, risking their lives against this self-detonating madman.

Yet the realm below gave no response. Daniel closed his eyes as the longbow before him gradually took shape, the spiritual fluctuations growing increasingly violent.

Duchisheng gritted his teeth, intending to hold out a little longer. If he tried to flee in his current state, it would be fine if the opponent didn't pursue, but once pursued, death was certain.

Why on earth had he come to this damned place? He shouldn't have given in to greed! The King of Dawn was far too insidious!

"Hahahaha! What marvelous expressions! I never expected that you lofty powerhouses would also feel pain! Truly exhilarating!"

Atoskto looked at the two of them with mockery, frantically wielding the Sword of Dawn in his hand, the power within his body feeling boundless.

At this moment, he was like a player in a bullet-hell shooter, sending blade after blade of light flying continuously, forcing the two of them to dance on the edge of a blade.

Just like a cat toying with mice.

"Subdue this madman!"

The voice came from below. Duchisheng and Dathimun looked down with pleasant surprise.

They saw Daniel holding an azure longbow, drawing the string as visible spirituality condensed into an arrow.

"I've been waiting for this move!" Duchisheng's body suddenly swelled, tumors of various sizes rising across the surface of his skin.

Breaking the sound barrier, he arrived behind the King of Dawn in an instant, throwing a punch whose sound resembled a thunderclap and gale.

With a sharp crack, the faint light clinging to the surface of the Sword of Dawn shattered, and the king's body was sent flying backward.

"It's not over yet!"

Duchisheng flickered continuously around the king, landing no less than ten punches per second upon him. The force, akin to a colossal beast colliding, tossed the king's body through the air like a ragdoll.

"Did you really think we were just taking a beating? Trash is trash after all, no matter how great the power, a wretch remains a wretch!" Duchisheng's right hand swelled once more, every texture of muscle clearly visible.

Boom!

A ring-shaped wave of air appeared, and Atoskto was sent soaring high into the sky.

Immediately afterward, esoteric and jarring sounds rang out—gibberish, screaming, and wailing. It sounded like the voices of thousands, yet also like the madness of a single soul.

Dathimun cupped the giant gourd in both hands, its mouth opened, and dark red, foul liquid poured out.

"Seal!"

Chains formed from blood-red filth bound the King of Dawn's limbs, finally piercing his neck, running through every blood vessel, and sealing his churning spirituality.

Clang!

The Sword of Dawn erupted with dazzling light, gentle morning rays shielding the king and slowly forcing the filth out from within his body.

Terrifying offensive power, the ability to spontaneously construct spell corridors, integration of offense and defense, and even the power to dispel abnormal statuses!

Duchisheng and Dathimun turned green with envy all at once.

Swish!

The sound of ocean waves rang out, an arrow shot forth, and a silver-white unicorn fish rode the crest of the waves.

The light freshly constructed by the Sword of Dawn shattered with a bang, and an arrow as massive as a spear pierced clean through the King of Dawn's chest.

"Hahahaha! Brilliant!" Dathimun could not help but clap.

At this moment, the majestic spirituality surging within the King of Dawn gradually subsided. Feeling this change, the three of them let out long sighs of relief.

Though it had been less than ten minutes, every single second had been a brush with death; a single misstep would have led to total ruin.

"Old man, you've lost. Hahahaha! How laughable! As expected, trash remains trash, and can never turn the tables," Dathimun mocked.

"Next, I will continue marching north, utterly crush your kingdom, turn all your subjects into slaves, put chains on them, and drive them into the arenas."

The manic expression on Atoskto's face suddenly calmed. He gazed at them quietly, entirely devoid of his previous madness, like a completely different person.

"Did you win?"