1000 Years Later, Even My Weakest Follower Has Become A Demon King - Chapter 213 - 213 Disarm

Chapter 213 – 213 Disarm

213 Disarm

As the Father of the Crows, Blake held power over the entire realm of Black Crow Gaze.

So when he asked his question, the duo felt a chill run down their spine, as if sharp claws could appear at any moment.

William replied to Blake’s question, “All we have to do is disable the girl from her ‘God’s Descent’ state and make her lose her combat ability. I still have some things to confirm with her. As for that guy with the spellblade…”

He turned to look at Remides, who immediately understood what he meant. She nodded and shouted to the Phoenix Fire City Lord, “Mr. Morton, you have already proven your stand before. Please withdraw now…”

“My stand?”

Morton, wielding the strange spellblade, didn’t turn around because he couldn’t dare to take his attention away from the man surrounded by crows in front of him.

He coldly replied, “Yes, my stand has already been confirmed by you… but what about yours? Are those rumors true? Have you already made a deal with the Moon Realm and sold all of Ava State to a high-level, secretive existence? What difference does that make from the likes of Ward Windsong, who wants to sell Ava State to the empire?!”

By the end, his voice became heated.

“No, it’s not true,” Remides immediately replied, but she didn’t know how to continue explaining.

If she were standing in the other’s position, she would have come to that conclusion.

In fact, even Remides herself couldn’t understand everything that was happening—a friend who should have died appeared here, using high-level Moon Realm powers without any hesitation. And the entire palace serving the Mist Spirit was temporarily pulled into the Moon Realm’s domain by the other party.

Even Remides herself had temporarily suppressed her doubts because of her absolute trust in William Kane and Blake, but she couldn’t ask Morton to do the same.

As Ava State’s elven conservatist, Morton Bloodblade didn’t trust outsiders whether they were from the Moon Realm or the empire—unless they were High Elves like himself

He considered those who allowed outsiders into their midst to be the worst kind of traitors.

Remides was at a loss for words when asked a question by the other party. She looked to William, who immediately understood her dilemma.

“Sigh, troublesome… Blake, just disarm that guy with the spellblade. Don’t kill him,”

Blake, who had just lightly touched his sword, grumbled, “I have to hold back in my first decent battle? This isn’t satisfying.”

“Think of it as a challenge for yourself. If you really want to have fun, I suggest you go to the King of Deathblood’s arena and play a bloody game. I still have two invitations,” William offered.

“For real? You’d give them to me?”

Blake’s eyes lit up.

“Consider it compensation for this mission,” William replied.

“Deal,” Blake agreed, turning his attention back to the two people in front of him.

The two of them remained wary of each other and Blake, who weighed his sword in his hand and remarked, “I remember there was a saying in the past that described our current situation as ‘Baroque Balance.’ Does that phrase still exist?”

The sudden rise of the Baroque Knight Kingdom at the end of the Golden Age had once altered the balance between the Storm Kingdom and the Kos Empire on the Vic Continent. It had turned into a precarious balance of three. In later generations, particularly during the era of Judgment, people often used the term “Baroque Balance” to describe such a situation, where the unexpected arrival of a third party threw the previously stable confrontation between two sides into chaos.

A one-on-one battle was simple in comparison, as all one had to do was focus all their energy on their enemy. However, once the battle escalated to involve three sides, the decision-making required in the situation became countless times more complex.

Without waiting for a response, Blake spoke up, “I’m not good at dealing with complicated situations. Plus, the boss has ordered us not to hurt you. So let’s keep it simple. You two can attack me together.”

Remides’s doubts were dispelled upon hearing Blake’s arrogant words, which were identical to those he had spoken over a thousand years ago.

There was no doubt in Remides’s mind that the person controlling this power was the Black Swordsman from the past.

On the battlefield, Blake’s words didn’t ruffle the duo’s feathers. They were at a level where such provocations didn’t affect their judgment in battle.

But how could the two, who had just been planning on killing each other, lower their guard against each other because of Blake’s mockery?

Such simple sophistry wasn’t enough…

However, interpreting Blake’s sincere suggestion as a provocation was their first mistake.

After finishing his speech, Blake didn’t give any warning. His body transformed into thousands of ravens that enveloped the hall.

As the hissing filled the air, countless pairs of white claws rained down on the duo. Black lightning bolts spewed from the ravens’ sharp beaks, leaving deep marks in the air before slowly spreading and disappearing. They looked like foolish children who had dipped their fingers in pitch-black invisible ink and smeared it wantonly on a piece of white paper.

The blood-colored mist surrounding the prophet suddenly contracted and solidified into a blood cocoon that protected her. Only then was she able to withstand the storm of attacks. The strange weapon in the air, which looked like a sword or chisel and was covered in cracks, spun rapidly and constantly cut down the surrounding ravens.

Morton immediately stabbed his Inexhaustible Spellblade into the ground, causing spikes of illusory blood to pierce out of the ground and block the approaching ravens like a sea urchin.

It seemed that this powerful attack wasn’t able to break through the other party’s defenses for the moment, but Blake’s raven summoning was only his warm-up. He wasn’t particularly skilled in this.

Even if someone else obtained the Father of the Crows’s authority over the concept of despair, it would manifest differently depending on the user.

When this authority was in Jackdaw Coles’s hands, he was best at controlling a sea of crows to carry out endless attacks, wearing down the enemy wave after wave. This matched his specialist position of attacking groups in Judgment back then.

As a specialist against humanoids, Blake—who had reached the Divine Realm in swordsmanship and Spellblade control—had integrated this power into his combat style after obtaining the authority of the Father of the Crows.

The ravens’ cover was all it took for him to appear beside Morton like a ghost. Without pause, he wielded a two-handed heavy sword decorated with crow wings and swung it with a simple, powerful strike that shattered the blood-colored spikes surrounding Morton.

That’s right. Just one strike shattered all the spikes around him before turning into a blood mist and dissipating.

Though Morton had been protected by the spikes, he was unharmed.

To Morton, it seemed as if countless illusory swords had shattered the protection around him.

Morton pulled out the spellblade he had stabbed into the ground, ready to continue the battle, but the other party put away his sword and turned to leave, as if he had lost interest.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to continue?” Morton shouted at his back, feeling humiliated, but the other party didn’t turn around.

“I’m done. Boss said that I only need to disarm you,” he replied without turning his head.

Exposing his back to the enemy in battle was the most arrogant and foolish act. Morton held the spellblade, Inexhaustible, tightly, intending to teach the other party a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

However, when he raised the sword, an ear-piercing sound like ice cracking came from it

and the supreme holy relic spellblade—Inexhaustible—that had once banished the King of Deathblood’s Chief Demon General, Carnage, and stained with a demigod’s blood, shattered like glass.