Rivers of the Night
Chapter 440 - 440: Mana Domain

Theron's speed didn't seem to have much regard for Malaya at all. His body blurred, splitting into countless [Water Clones] as their bodies spontaneously formed from swirling masses of accumulated Water Mana.

It was like all the Water Mana in the world suddenly spontaneously formed into Theron, like he was it and they were him. He only blurred for a single moment, and yet it felt to the two Ancestors as though they had lost him completely.

A twin pair of auras erupted from them, what felt like odd Domains superimposing themselves onto the world.

Theron actually felt his control over Water Mana waver for just the slightest moment, his perfectly realistic clones almost collapsing before he wrestled control back.

The two Ancestors were shocked that their combined Mana Domains actually didn't have the result they were looking for. However, while they didn't crumble Theron's ability to use ambient Mana, they had picked out the real him.

Their gazes landed on one of the many, but Theron's reaction was quicker than their own, his hand having risen up.

Five clones rushed at them from all sides.

Ancestor Nightingale pulled out a spear, and Ancestor Thistle a whip of thorny vines that crackled not with just one head, but three of them. Despite their seemingly old and frail bodies, when they acted, they did so explosively.

Theron was actually shocked to find that… they controlled not a single Law. It was like watching a pair of the most incompetent people he had ever seen cultivate wield a power they shouldn't even be allowed to have.

That was when Theron learned something very important.

Talent and foundation were important… but no less important than actual cultivation realm.

It was no wonder the Daggers of the Night were alright with using their Dagger Call Platforms to forcefully raise the Branch Heads to the Divine Realm.

If the Divine Realm was the ceiling of this world, and reaching it made every other power you gained seem so meaningless, then why not?

However, Theron didn't believe that it was completely meaningless. That would be antithetical to everything he knew about cultivation. Realms built on one another, and the understanding of one allowed the next to be more powerful.

If the Divine Realm was different, then it could only mean that… they had made a mistake in their cultivation.

Theron's eyes flickered.

[Pressure Burst].

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The clones suddenly exploded.

He had grown hundreds of times more powerful, and yet he was still using the very same Spells.

The difference?

His Spells were also hundreds of times more powerful.

The concentrated mass of Mana was so great that the two Ancestors were blown back—but worse than that, the chilling waters sprayed over them in the shuddering explosion. This weakened the explosion from what it could have been, but it made their joints feel as though they were icing over.

With their experience, these Ancestors had faced off against Ice Mancers before. But never once had they felt so cold, so chilled, so frosted over. It was practically immediate, and it was like a Soul Mancer had hit them with a debuff, their speed and agility plummeting to rock bottom.

It was just as Theron expected. Ice might be known as the chillier element, but what about if it could have remained liquid and kept the same level of cold?

Water was far better at siphoning away heat than ice could ever be. That was to say that Theron's cold water… made Ice Mancers look like amateurs.

With a step, Theron had already appeared before them, his blades flashing. They reacted with their weapons, vines rushing out of the ground toward him, while Ancestor Nightingale gave up on a direct confrontation entirely. They were all Elemental Mancers—why waste time with Flux Mancer tactics?

Ancestor Nightingale seemed to have blinked in and out of existence, appearing behind Theron and stabbing toward his heart without regard for Malaya.

The vine coming for Theron's feet froze in place. He treated Ancestor Thistle's spells no differently than he had the latter's descendant's, accelerating forward without missing a beat.

BANG! BANG!

Ancestor Nightingale found two more clones exploding in his vicinity, as though Theron had already calculated exactly where he would appear.

It was just like he had learned during his battle with Mason. Dark Mana didn't work like Space Mana did. It had to deconstruct and reconstruct. Meaning… no matter what Ancestor Nightingale did…

Theron would be able to track him.

Chi. Chi.

Theron parried two heads of Ancestor Thistle's whip ahead, the third lashing out right for his head. However, just as it was about to split him in two, it was forced to divert its path, Theron's previous parries sending the other two heads too far to the side.

He didn't even miss a single beat, not flinching for a moment as though he already knew exactly what would happen.

Ancestor Thistle's eyes opened wide, his thoughts screaming in his skull. Did he not care about the girl at all?! Why was he moving so fast and so abruptly?!

Those chilling pair of blue eyes looked back at him, leaving streaks in the air as he exploded forth.

For the life of him… Ancestor Thistle couldn't understand why Theron was completely indifferent to their Mana Domains.

Chi. Chi. Chi.

Theron's blades moved in a blur, slicing into Ancestor Thistle's body as though he was nothing more than a target to practice on.

'Weak. Predictable. Unskilled.'

Ancestor Thistle was countered before he could counter, his moves seen through as though Theron was reading a book, his thoughts practically an open canvas Theron was rewriting with his own bloodied blade, the Ancestor's life as his ink.

Chi. Chi. Chi.

Theron ducked beneath a swipe of the whip, stomping down a foot to catch one head in the next breath, and then stomping down yet another to freeze it to the ground.

His body flowed like the world's raging oceans, and yet his blades carried the unbothered consistency of million-year-old glaciers.

It felt like no matter how he moved to dodge…

It wouldn't matter in the slightest.

Chi.

Ancestor Thistle froze, his head slowly falling from his shoulders.