Chapter 85 - Crow VS Thousand Phantoms (2)
Bullet ti activated. My halberd blurred, slicing Troturre thirty tis in succession. His phantom horse vanished. Several nearby phantoms strayed too close and were cleaved in half.
I lost count of how many tis I spun as montum carried . Fatigue grew every second, especially with only one arm to support the weapon. Still, I pushed through.
After a forty‑hit combo, my final strike slamd into his belly, knocking him airborne.
My arm trembled. I planted the halberd into the ground, needing a mont’s rest.
Behind , the mob ford a half‑circle, encircling . They couldn’t advance as the sea of fla from my ultimate still burned. An open gap stretched ahead, offering retreat.
I inhaled deeply. Fire filled my lungs, refilling stamina. One minute of rest here was worth twelve hours of sleep.
The flas faded. The troops resud their charge.
Sorry for you. My stamina was back.
I turned toward Troturre, who slowly rose. I hated Heavy knights. These guys had absurd HP pools, especially at level four or higher.
Near him, I spotted a tall vase. I was reminded that nine vases existed across the map.
Risky, but worth it. I dropped the halberd, switching to the mist sword for mobility, and sprinted, not toward Troturre, but toward the eastern edge near the glowing walls.
Troturre recovered, though his phantom form cracked. His body turned red as he leapt, landing five ters behind like a missile. The ground erupted.
Who do you think you are? General Radahn? You are too small, bruh.
I reached the vase at the eastern edge, smashed it, and a roasted pig appeared. Heavy, greasy, glorious. I bit into it, clamped it in my mouth. With sword in my only arm, I ran toward the northeast vase.
Don’t mind if I farm.
Troturre screeched, unleashing another wind‑blade musou. I was already out of his reach. None of his twenty blades touched .
Unsheathing the sword, I grabbed the roasted pig and chewed properly. My lost arm began regenerating. Bone structure ford first, then strings of blood vessels, nerves, and muscle fibers knitting together. Incomplete, but functional.
Another bite. The skin crunched perfectly. It felt like a waste by swallowing whole. The oily, juicy belly at slid down my throat like lted ice cream.
My arm regained muscle, though still skinless. Shoulder and chest wounds fully healed.
Behind , Troturre stood where he had launched his musou. His troops regrouped at the center.
No pursuers. I laughed. At the northeast vase, I smashed it, which dropped a small weapon token. Free 1 permanent attack attribute. Barely mattered, but hey, it was an honest work.
I headed north next. This ti, I walked since there was no stage tir, or ti limit.
Right?
Or was there?
The stage walls fluctuated, as if reading my mind. Outside, phantom troops erged. Based on my visual estimation, over ten thousand n appeared.
Yikes.
The pots and vases vanished from the edges, reappearing in the center. The walls shrank. Outside troops ford a shield wall, pressing inward with the shrinking cube.
That might be my stage tir. Screw you, phantom world!
I scanned the field, noting the vases and pots.
At the center, Troturre returned. He raised his halberd, and a hundred cavalryn plus two hundred archers rose from the ground.
Oh, shit. He could call reinforcents?
Well, the sacrifice for my recovery was worth it. If I had killed Troturre earlier, the stage might have ende, and my arm would have stayed missing.
I took another bite of roasted pig. Accidentally, I circulated water musou energy to cleanse my palate. The energy touched the pig, and it lted into crude oil.
Nooooooo! My food!
The oil refilled my musou energy. Instantly, my cores surged, ready for action.
Musou gauge: full again.
Checking my arms, both were healed. Vitality and stamina refreshed.
Round two, then.
I unsheathed the mist sword, eyeing my halberd’s location. East side of the troops. Coincidentally, three vases had teleported there.
Gotcha. But first...
The archers. Always the most annoying fodder.
I turned west, heading toward their ranks. Two vases lined the way. I smashed them, pocketing two talismans.
The two hundred archers ford up, bows drawn. A volley lood overhead as two hundred arrows blotted the sky.
In the ga, one button blocked everything. Here, it was artillery bombardnt. PTSD was a guaranteed after service.
I asured distance, activated bullet ti, and sprinted like my life depended on it.
One second at full speed drained half my musou energy. The arrows flew harmlessly overhead, landing far behind.
I reached the archer line. Mist sword was set afla, as I swung wide. Five cut down instantly. Ten more caught sparks and burned. The rest panicked, and their formation crumbled.
Chasing them, I slashed, slashed, and slashed. Black fla trailed behind . I lost count of how many I killed.
Hooves thundered. Phantom cavalry charged, spears leveled. Their massive horses threatened to trample .
"HAH!"
Countering the charge, I unleashed an ULT, sword carving a half‑circle shockwave of fla. Cavalry and mounts ignited, blasted airborne. Stray archers and nearby troops caught in the blast.
KO Count: 728.
My musou ter was depleted. I tore a green talisman. Stamina surged back. Lungs, spleen, liver filled with energy. My thorn thigh muscles healed.
I lunged at the scattered archers, no longer afraid of them.
Constantia’s n rushed to support, and bodies glowed red. Shield bash charge incoming.
I leapt back, escaping their range. As their montum died, I vaulted over them, cutting five down from behind. Charging forward, I hit another layer of swordsn.
BOOM!
The shrinking cube thundered. Troops outside stepped inside the field.
Oh, no. I had to hurry. Farming phantoms to refill my musou bar was no longer an option.
A thought crossed my mind. If my water core could transform food into dinosaur blood, could it also convert living people... or phantoms? Would that count as cannibalism?
I sidestepped, dodging a swordsman’s strike, then grabbed his neck to test the theory.
The phantom flinched, dissipating into dust. Only a spark remained, refilling my musou bar slightly.
Slightly disappointing.
What about Aki’s moves? Could I create water masses or crude oil masses by consuming my water core’s energy?
I pictured the effect, visualizing it. In midair before , a small black bubble ford. My water core stirred, and my fire core fluctuated, becoming unstable.
I frowned, backstepping to dodge another swordsman’s strike.
Since the effect was unstable, I tried both cores together. I added fire energy.
The oil mass shifted into a small fireball. Then it condensed and expanded, becoming a miniature sun.
Another inspiration dawned.
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