Translator: CinderTL
Roland's five fingers tightened around the still-burning chainblade, simultaneously registering the icy chill of the metal and the searing heat of the flames.
Through the dazzling exchange of attacks and defenses, Roland had already assessed his opponent's capabilities.
The devil's speed was indeed astonishing, far surpassing the limits of ordinary transcendents' dynamic vision and even eclipsing the agility of the assassin professionals he had previously encountered.
However, its strength failed to match its speed.
At least, it paled in comparison to Roland's power after activating his dragon transformation.
Moreover, the Nine Hells flames clinging to the chainblade appeared ferocious, but as long as he avoided direct strikes from the chainblade's tip, the residual heat and shockwaves were easily neutralized by his Dragon Scale Tough Skin.
Beyond these observations, the devil named Malcolm's combat techniques were...
utterly unremarkable.
If this is all he has...
A cold glint flashed in Roland's eyes. He tightened his grip on the chainblade and yanked it backward with explosive force.
The sudden surge of power surged through the shackles, instantly transmitting to the other end.
"How is this possible?"
Malcolm's pupils constricted as he felt an overwhelming force surge through the spiked chain from the other end.
Though his strength had waned considerably, his opponent was merely a dragonborn whelp!
How could such a creature possibly overpower him in a contest of pure strength?
The absurd thought had barely crossed his mind when he began desperately pulling backward, straining to regain control of his weapon. His arm trembled from the exertion.
But the moment he poured his full strength into the effort...
An even more savage, utterly irresistible force surged through the chain.
Malcolm had no time to react. A searing pain erupted in his palm as the hellfire-wrapped chain was violently ripped from his grip.
He staggered back, glancing down to see his hand raw and bleeding, the skin torn to shreds by the chain's relentless friction. Dark blood oozed from the wounds.
Before shock and humiliation could fully register, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the air.
He snapped his head up, his vision filled with a cold, brilliant golden sword light that seemed to dominate his entire field of view.
The golden blade didn't strike in a straight line. Instead, it arced through the air in a chilling arc, skillfully sealing off every possible avenue of escape.
The shadow of death loomed overhead, forcing him to squeeze out his last reserves of strength and roll desperately to the side.
Shriiiik!
The sword's edge sliced through the air where he had stood moments before, tearing a bottomless, charred gash into the ground.
The dissipating positive energy burned the air, crackling softly.
Before Malcolm could regain his footing, Roland's figure reappeared like a phantom, closing the distance once more.
The Mithril Longsword felt weightless in his hand, transforming into a suffocating storm of sword shadows.
Having lost his primary weapon, the devil could only rely on his speed to evade, occasionally conjuring brief shields of dark energy or flicking scorching, crimson fireballs from his fingertips.
Yet these hellish attacks weakened dramatically upon contact with Roland's aura.
The infernal flames struck the silver scales, exploding into futile bursts of dim sparks before vanishing completely.
As for the icy aura that could corrode minds and freeze sanity, it brushed against Roland's unwavering will like a gentle breeze against a mountain crag, leaving it unshaken.
"Is this all your tricks amount to?" Roland's icy voice cut through the whistling of his blade.
He was no longer content with mere suppression.
In the instant a cunning feint forced Malcolm to shift his weight, Roland's left hand, which he had yet to use, shot out with lightning speed.
The palm was now completely covered in thick dragon scales, their edges gleaming with a metallic chill.
His fingers curled into claws, tearing through the air with a piercing shriek as they aimed straight for the devil's throat.
Malcolm, utterly terrified, hastily raised his arm to block.
Crack!
The sickening sound of bone snapping echoed clearly.
The devil let out a muffled groan of pain as the immense force sent him flying backward, crashing heavily into a distant pile of shattered stone, sending dust and debris billowing into the air.
Roland gave him no chance to recover.
He surged forward, his speed accelerating to its absolute limit, leaving behind a faint crimson afterimage.
Simultaneously, the longsword in his hand erupted with an even more intense and pure golden radiance than before.
This was the Holy Strike, unleashed without restraint, channeling all his faith and strength into a single, devastating blow.
Amidst the swirling dust, Malcolm had just struggled to his feet when the golden torrent of death filled his entire vision.
Terror twisted his features as he howled frantically, desperately gathering his dwindling energy into a shield before him.
A dark screen etched with twisted runes materialized instantly, radiating an ominous aura.
Boom!
The sacred sword light clashed violently against the defiled barrier, unleashing a deafening explosion.
Energy surged and annihilated each other, the resulting shockwave scattering rubble in all directions.
The stalemate lasted only a moment.
The dark screen flickered violently under the purifying power of the Holy Strike, riddled with cracks but ultimately holding.
It barely deflected the brunt of the destructive energy, while Malcolm himself was sent flying backward as if struck by a massive hammer, skidding dozens of paces before collapsing to one knee, his posture utterly disheveled.
The nine hells aura surrounding him had dimmed drastically, and the arm that had blocked the dragon's claw twisted unnaturally, a clear indication of the heavy price he had paid.
As Roland's Dragon's Might surged anew, his icy killing intent pressing down like a tangible force, alarm bells rang in Malcolm's mind.
Close-quarters combat was now a dead end.
A flicker of resolve flashed in his crimson eyes as he abandoned all pretense of elegance.
In the next instant, the space around Malcolm began to distort unnaturally.
"Trying to escape?" Roland immediately recognized his intent.
Just as Malcolm's figure was about to merge into the shadows for teleportation—
Boom!
The ground where Roland's feet had been planted exploded, leaving a shallow crater.
His entire body transformed into a blood-red meteor tearing through the air, his speed instantly surpassing the limits of human vision!
This was the relentless combat technique Graham had taught him:
Charge!
Harnessing the raw power and speed unleashed by his dragon transformation, Roland forcefully shattered the partially formed teleportation field.
Malcolm, who had just begun to phase out of reality, with one foot already in the shadow plane, felt an overwhelming force violently intervene, yanking him back from the spatial rift.
He staggered into view, his face etched with terror and disbelief, only to be met by Roland's merciless blade, now blazing with golden flames once more.
Damn dragonborn! If it weren't for the Nine Hells' upheaval, a whelp like you... a piece of trash like you...
Malcolm roared inwardly in despair.
Successive defeats, especially the imminent threat of utter annihilation, finally shattered his last shred of rationality.
Ordinary escape methods were now a pipe dream, and begging for mercy was utterly out of the question.
Then, he would have to sacrifice everything!
A flicker of madness and agony flashed in his eyes.
Without hesitation, he chanted the forbidden incantation—a secret art that demanded the permanent depletion of his very essence.
In the next instant, the devil's body swelled violently, contorting grotesquely before exploding with a thunderous roar that seemed to erupt from the depths of the nine hells. The blast scattered into countless purgatory bat, each flickering with faint hellfire.
The bats emitted piercing shrieks as they scattered wildly in all directions, like ink splattered across the sky.
Pale flames flickered on each bat's wings, attempting to obscure perception and buy a sliver of hope for survival.
Roland's sharp gaze swept across the swarm, his senses extending to their limits. To his surprise, he discovered that every bat carried an identical soul signature, perfectly concealing the devil's true form.
"Hah..."
Faced with this desperate attempt at shedding his skin like a cicada, Roland merely responded with a cold sneer.
He stood firm, his gaze fixed on the swarm of bats that sought to blot out the sky, his voice ringing clearly across the battlefield.
"Since I cannot pinpoint your true form..."
Before the words had fully left his lips, he bent his knees slightly. A muffled thud reverberated from the ground as he launched himself skyward like a cannonball, hovering above the swarm.
"...then I will purify this false shell of yours, along with these repulsive clones, all at once!"
Suspended in mid-air, he gazed down upon the scattering purgatory bat. Slowly, he raised his right hand, covered in silver dragon scales, and murmured a single word.
In the next instant, a searing energy coalesced in his palm.
But this time, it was not the warm, sacred golden positive energy.
It was thunderbolt!
Brighter than sunlight, more violent than the radiant glow of positive energy!
Countless searing white bolts erupted from his palm, hissing and crackling as they intertwined into an ever-expanding sphere of thunder, its deafening roar shaking the very air.
Dragon Breath!
The destructive energy illuminated Roland's icy countenance, as well as the countless despairing bat eyes below.
Wielding thunderbolt, he stood like a deity wielding divine retribution.
(End of the Chapter)
---------------------------
📖 You are reading [232] Chapters behind.
🔥 Read up to Chapter [594] now, only on 𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝕞.
📚 Read upto [12,000+] Chapters on Site with [9,900+] Free Chapters!
🚫 Also get FREE lifetime ad-free and join the giveaway by joining our Discord!
---------------------------