Rising god
Chapter 146: Iron Brotherhood III

Chapter 146: Iron Brotherhood III

Rakel Voss was a master magician, meaning he wasn’t as skilled as a melee fighter.

Brock and his sixth-star comrade, their armor fused to flesh, absorbed Rakel’s golden spells with their armored bodies that shrugged off the searing mana, and because of that sacrifice, Brock was already upon him.

Bang! Brock’s fist slammed into Rakel’s chest, bones cracking as he flew backward, blood spraying from his mouth. The man ran to him, raining their fists on him as Rakel tried to protect his body.

"Aaaahh!" Brock roared, pummeling Rakel with relentless fists, each strike a thunderclap, caving ribs, bruising flesh purple. Rakel gasped, choking on blood, his vision blurring.

"Take that one," Brock barked to his comrade, advancing on Rakel.

The second sixth-star didn’t hesitate and charged Baines, who faced another foe under his Withering Rain. The black droplets burned through armor and skin, melting flesh to bone with a sizzling Pshtch. The man screamed, his body dissolving, muscles peeling away in bloody strips.

However, he still charged at Baines. If he couldn’t kill him, they would both go down.

’Flashburst’ Baines also pushed with his aura with a sonic boost and caught the charging man by his neck. Before he could struggle his way out, the withering rain showered over him. The rain intensified, searing the man’s face, his eyes bubbling as decay ate through his skull, leaving a charred, writhing husk.

He left the man, as his senses picked up another person running towards him.

"Watch out!" Gilbert shouted as another Brotherhood warrior lunged.

Baines’ full mana surged, the air tinged with mana as a magic circle blanketed the room.

"Fog of Corruption," he intoned, and a black wave, tinged with Ashenfall’s decay, engulfed the man.

The man’s senses spun—vision blurring, ears ringing, nose burning—as the fog invaded his lungs, slowing his movements. Baines flicked a finger with cut aura, chipping armor from his chest. The fog didn’t hesitate and burrowed into the exposed flesh, rotting it instantly, blood and pus oozing.

Another flick, and more armor shattered, the man thrashing blindly, screaming as decay consumed him, the man moved around in a hurry, trying to locate Baines as his armor kept getting chipped off, burrowing into his metal skin.

His body was collapsing into a pile of ash and bone.

This was the power of decay.

’That,’ Gilbert’s heart pounded. Just what was he witnessing at the moment? Was this really the same power?

A Bang snapped him from his stupor. Rakel was losing. Gilbert grabbed a blade, rushing to help. Rakel wasn’t having a great time in his fight.

Once Brock had reached him, he raised him off the ground, asking, "Who are you?"

Rakel coughed up blood, but Brock delivered a devastating punch,

"I said, who are you?"

With no response, he delivered a hit with each question. Until Bang!

Brock’s head tilted lightly and turned to see who attacked. It was Gilbert.

’Shit,’ Gillbert had attacked to help, but his attack didn’t do anything.

"You!" Brock roared, dropping Rakel to attack Gilbert. Using that slight chance, Rakel summoned a golden waterfall from a magic circle above. It crashed over them. Shaaa...

"Fuck..." Brock cursed out as he pulled out his hand, only to find a bump. The shower had amputated his hand in a split second, and a reverse to Rakel. His wounds healed instantly, his bruises fading, and his blood vanishing. When the shower ended, Rakel looked in top condition.

No bruise. No mark. No blood. There were no signs of battle on him.

The shower coalesced into a lance, which Rakel drove into Brock. Pstch.

The lance pierced, blood gushing, but Brock blocked with his left hand, only for a second lance to impale his chest. "Guh..." Brock’s eyes blazed with fury, even as blood poured.

Shng. Gilbert’s blade severed Brock’s head, the body slumping, blood pooling on the marble.

Rakel panted, nodding at Gilbert, then glanced at Baines, whose foes were mere ashes, decayed by his Withering Touch.

"T-Thank you," Gilbert stammered. Then he asked, "Who are you? You came in saying you were farmers, but you are clearly not." He looked between Baines and Rakel for answers.

"Sir Gilbert, we are the 7th division of the Red Sun, and we discovered movements of the Iron Brotherhood and came to assist."

"Ahh..." Gilbert nodded in understanding, relief mixing with dread.

"We have to move," Rakel said to Baines as they went out to the courtyard to assist in the battle there.

The Iron Brotherhood’s five hundred, led by six sixth-stars, faced the 7th Division’s 90 sixth-stars.

Wayla, the second chair, danced through the fray, her daggers flashing. Heads flew like severed fruit, blood arcing in crimson sprays. A Brotherhood warrior charged, only to be snared in her magical traps, vines of mana crushing his limbs, bones snapping like dry twigs. She slit his throat, blood gushing as his body twitched. Others tried to brute their way through to traps, only giving her time to slice through their heads.

Then there was the third chair. He stayed at the helm of the division and faced off against the 6th stars of the Iron Brotherhood. His method of fighting was unique. He used magic to form a tough armor around him, and with his glaive, he fought like a beast, cleaving a sixth-star’s torso, guts spilling onto the cobblestones, the air thick with the stench of death.

Then there was the 4th chair. She wielded a spear and used magic to form guided missiles that aided her attacks. She faced two of the 6th stars. She used illusion sword style and aimed his legs while her missiles aimed at their upper body.

Her mana-guided missiles struck their chests, exploding in showers of blood and bone, while her spear severed legs, tendons ripping, bodies crumpling.

The division ganged up on the remaining sixth-stars, blades hacking through armor, flesh parting with wet squelches. The four 6th star iron brotherhood were the first to fall; however, there were sacrifices. Two division members fell—one’s skull crushed by a warhammer, brain splattering; another gutted, intestines trailing as he collapsed.

However, those were the only deaths; while remaining cleaved through the iron brotherhood. Their numbers didn’t matter; the Iron Brotherhood suffered heavy losses.

The battle moved with more intensity as more enemies fell; however, that was when the war’s belief took its strongest effect. The Brotherhood’s war belief surged, their madness intensifying with each fallen comrade, eyes blazing.

The courtyard was a slaughterhouse, littered with bodies—heads severed, limbs torn, blood pooling into rivers, the stench of iron and decay choking the air.

They had lost their commanders, yet the Brotherhood’s hundred survivors roared, and the fallen boosted their abilities. The madness in their eyes blazed with more intensity, and they pushed on.

"For Brotherhood!"

Their war cry fueled their strength, matching the division’s sixth stars. A fifth-star’s axe split a Red Sun shoulder, bone splintering, only for a counterstrike to disembowel him, his scream drowned in blood. Four more division members fell—throats slit, chests caved, one’s face pulped by a mace, blood and teeth scattering.

The third fell their last sixth-star foe, his blade slicing through his neck, blood fountaining. However, the fourth chair lost a hand, her scream piercing as blood sprayed, her spear still stabbing.

Wayla struggled, her traps less effective against the maddened horde, their war belief shrugging off pain. Five more division members fell—limbs hacked, skulls split, bodies trampled into the blood-soaked earth.

Before the sixth could die,

"Soloris Flore!"

Rakel’s voice boomed, a massive magic circle flaring overhead. A golden waterfall poured, washing over the battlefield. The attack washed away the effects of the war’s belief, regaining clarity to the Iron Brotherhood’s mind, thereby weakening their power. The weaker warriors were drowned, their armor corroding, bodies swept away in golden torrents, flesh dissolving.

"Retreat!" At Rakel’s order, the division leaped back out of the flood.

Baines raised his sword, channeling another one-third of his remaining aura.

Absolute Destruction, Second Move: Bomb.

A massive ball of destructive will, violet and black, formed above, its hum shaking the air. Then it plummeted like a meteor of ruin.

BOOOOOOOM!