Dead Man's Harem. Since I can't kill myself, I'll find other ways to be happy. Chapter 127: A Behemoth is a Scaredy-Cat??

The power of a divine weapon could not be understated. Each cut that Devon delivered with the half-completed sword left echoing pain on the calamity-level behemoth's shank, the fresh cut wounds sending a rippling sensation across the fanged behemoth's entire body, causing the itching sensation that was originally ignited just monts ago by the re unsheathing of Mjolnir's poml, an itching sensation on the prior wounds the behemoth sustained from Mjolnir thousands of years ago during the Battle of the Celestial Realm, to erupt into mind-shattering pain.

How?

The behemoth's anguished roar tore through the sky like a clap of thunder, causing the earth to tremble in fear.

How is that a re mortal possesses such a weapon?

With its fanged and dark blue fur covered face twisted into an expression of pain and anger, the Behemoth continued to speak, projecting its booming voice across the lands until he could be heard from many kiloters away. But his use of the demonic language ant that none of this particular world's inhabitants could understand him, barring a handful of sages who specialized in the study of the ancient demon languages.

"Hm?" muttered Devon, too preoccupied with dishing out copious amounts of two handed sword strikes to fully grasp what the behemoth was saying.

The Mjolnir! How did you co into possession of a gah... divine weapon, mortal?

The behemoth spoke in labored breaths. Every ti the moonlight steel sword connected with his body, it sent a shockwave of pain to flare up from his old wounds. The sword seed to be taunting him, not doing real damage, but reminding him of a battle that he lost long, long ago.

"This is a divine weapon?" Devon asked, still going through the motions of hacking and slashing away at the behemoth's tail. Every ti the behemoth tried to slam down on him with its tail, or stomp on him with its foot, Devon simply side stepped it. The monster's movents seed to be slow and sluggish for so reason, as if it were trying to avoid putting pressure on the middle of its tail and its left foot, kind of like it was nursing a sprained ankle, or a twisted knee, or even a large, painful wooden splinter to put it in human terms.

You do not even know what you possess? The behemoth said in anguish. The sword in your hand right now contains the poml of the Mjolnir, the dwarven god Hrothgar's personal weapon! It is a weapon that has defeated before, one of the truly fearso divine artifacts, and you just happen to be carrying it on your person? Na your master! Which master gave that to you? Was it Hrothgar himself?

"The Mjolnir's poml huh, is that so?" Devon smirked. "And to answer your question, I don't know this Hrothgar that you're talking about, and I don't have a master. This sword just showed up in my inventory after I died. Didn't ask for it or nothin'." He didn't know if the behemoth was talking out of his ass or not, but the re fact that it kept recoiling from every swing of his sword ant that there had to be so strand of truth to his claim that his moonlight steel sword's poml was the poml of a dwarven god's weapon.

But dwarves normally used weapons like battleaxes, maces, and hamrs? Why would the dwarven god's weapon be a sword?

It made little sense to Devon, but as of right now he couldn't care less. It was imnsely gratifying to see the titanic behemoth the size of a skyscraper height wise and width wise, armored with thick blue scales, vicious fangs, and twin spiraling horns, recoil like a little kitty cat every ti the moonlight steel blade cut into its skin.

He felt a sense of empowernt much like a video ga character receiving a large power up after a long stretch of being a punching bag. If only those damn Algorian rebels also reacted like this to the taste of his blade things would've been so much easier.

Devon noticed that every ti his sword hit the Behemoth, mana seed to be transferring from his body into the poml, and then onto the blade. And the otherwise muted poml glowed a brilliant golden color whenever his mana channeled through it. He guessed that it had sothing to do with being the poml of the Mjolnir.

Tch! What a nuisance. To attack a Behemoth of the demon clans is an act of war. My master will hear about this, mortal, and you will feel the wrath of one of the demon clan noble lords! You better run, puny mortal!

Devon nearly let out a laugh, seeing as how the gargantuan twin horned blueish-purple furred behemoth was starting to walk away like a kitty cat scorned. "Run? ? Maybe worry about yourself, first. Where are you going, huh? You scared of a mortal like ?"

The behemoth shot Devon a dirty look, but continued to flee. This particular mosquito of a human being was more difficult to capture than he first thought. He'd co back again later.

"Hey, co back here!" Devon shouted, waving his arms in the air since he obviously could never catch up to the stride-length of a leviathan-class monster. He started to mock the behemoth, blowing a raspberry with his tongue and doing a mocking imitation of the behemoth limping away. "Get your ass back here, scaredy-cat! How can you run away from a puny mortal like , huh? How're you gonna face your friends when you tell them that a speck of dirt like drove you away myself?"

The behemoth paused for a mont, clearly irate from the mockery.