NOVGO.NET Chapter 777 Stop Hitting Me. I Will Duel Him One on One
Chapter 777: 777 Stop Hitting Me. I Will Duel Him One on One
“He slaughtered tens of thousands of our kin. Do not let him go,” a challenger shouted in fury.
The next second, a storm of spells lit the sky, thrown without regard for cost to swallow the red-haired giant.
Blades and spears punched through his body again and again, yet his stride never slowed.
Crippling Strike.
Killing Blow.
Critical hit.
Elemental torrents wrapped his towering frame. Damage numbers flooded upward, enough to drop a king-tier creature with ease.
“Sinner. Die.”
A legendary sword slammed into his crown. The wielder roared, trying to split his skull in two.
“Sinner… ha ha ha, sinner.”
The Demon Emperor’s pupils shrank. His thick arm reached back and clamped down.
His fingers, like iron pincers, seized the holy master who had ambushed him. Bestial fury twisted his face as he snarled, “I am the source of sin for my enemies. What can you do to me.”
The shock of his voice focused to a point. The holy master’s face warped.
Blood suffused his eyes. His eardrums burst in an instant. His head exploded like a melon.
Critical strike.
Sonic blast, heavy hit.
Sonic blast, heavy hit.
Enemies nearby were hurled more than ten meters by the roar. Blood poured from their seven orifices as their HP plummeted.
That famed holy master was killed outright by a single war shout.
“S-rank awakening battle art, Roaring Saint,” Heartbroken Loli whispered, shaken.
This art was special, learnable only by S-rank berserkers. At close range, even a god-tier target would be heavily wounded.
Rumor had it the Demon Emperor was cursed, his mind unstable. In one battle he snapped.
Nearly a hundred members of Laughter Guild were misidentified as enemies and massacred. Only the Samsara Godtree’s revival saved them from ruin.
They lived, but all of them were left permanently deaf. That was the mark of the Roaring Saint.
“God of Fear.”
The Demon Emperor threw back his head and roared to the sky. His eerie red hair lengthened wildly. His aura kept rising, a crimson tide circling him.
His gaze locked onto a divine will beyond the temple.
A woman in pale violet robes smiled coldly. “I will become your true fear.”
“My greatest work. An artwork that feels no pain and does not die.”
She smiled, white twisted horns curling from her brow, eyes black brown with malice and cunning.
The God of Fear came from the Realm of Desire, a world drenched in blood and lust, where challengers knew only slaughter and indulgence.
She was not just a god of that realm. She toyed with all beings.
What thrilled her most was despair at the edge of death. She converted that emotion into faith.
She nurtured factions in her world, then stoked war and killing to fatten herself and for her amusement.
It was clear not all galactic gods were glorious. In Pantheon Sanctum, plenty were like the God of Fear.
“Do not worry. He will die even if he can endure.”
“No way… his HP is going up the more we hit him. One point four billion.”
A scream cut through the chaos. Otherworld elites stared, aghast, as the Demon Emperor’s health bar turned black and climbed to a number that made scalps prickle.
He grabbed a challenger at random and crushed his skull barehanded beneath the gaze of the gods.
Then he yanked the legendary sword from his own head and swept it. Bloody battle energy carved arcs through the air, scouring a vacuum before him.
Blood spattered across the steps outside the temple, a shocking sight.
“You…”
Madness burned in the Demon Emperor’s eyes. White radiance rose on his skin. A legendary warplate wrapped his body. Two blood wreathed swords filled his hands.
He stood unmoved under a rain of battle arts, laughing as he looked to the divine wills. “All of you will die with me today.”
“One life of his is worth nine of mine,” Bradley breathed.
Madman said, “He has thrown his life away. He opened the extreme slaughter domain. Your HP spikes for a time, but every point taken from damage you endure will devour you the instant the fight ends.”
“Even if we gather every cleric, we might not save him.”
Madman’s scalp tingled. He had teamed with the Demon Emperor before. The man would tank one or two hundred million HP, and a choir of clerics could drag him back from the gate.
This time he came to trade his life for lives. To avenge his brothers.
He left himself no retreat.
“Demon Emperor, you should be grateful you survived last time, and you still dare come to throw yourself away,” Taran said, face shifting. Unlike other challengers, the Demon Emperor was obsessive to the core. A true madman.
And Laughter Guild would do anything for victory.
“I will follow the boss forever.”
“Going to hell is not something the boss should do alone. I am coming.”
As the Demon Emperor faced the gods, the Laughter Guild broke from the allied host and charged, fearless.
Their insane, overwhelming aura battered the enemy’s will, forcing the surrounding foes to retreat with pale faces.
“Are you all crazy. Can you not see that revival items do not work,” Madman yelled, losing his temper. At this point, anyone below king-tier who rushed in was just feeding kills.
“We repay grievance with grievance and blood with blood. I will cover them.”
Madman and the others turned. A shadow of death swept down.
On Aeloria’s back, an old man was loosening his limbs.
Warming up.
Everyone blinked. The old guildmaster…
Did warm-ups help now.
Orson clenched his fists, then twisted his waist. His joints cracked and popped.
“I cannot keep up with you youngsters. This is necessary pre-battle routine,” Orson shrugged helplessly.
“Old man, do not mess this up,” Ethan and the young ones muttered, nerves tight.
Numbers ruled Infinite Dimensions. Age cut stats, sure, but panels and domains still decided odds.
Ever since overusing Manifest Heaven and Earth, Orson had noticed that being too old hurt his execution. Sometimes his focus wandered.
“Chaos Dark Sentence, Sundering Day.”
A vast black sphere appeared. Before the Demon Emperor and the God of Fear could collide, it wrapped them both.
The Demon Emperor sensed the change. His mind was chaos, but his focus never left the God of Fear.
He let himself sink into darkness. “To the death.”
“With you. A crude mortal. You are not worthy.”
The God of Fear laughed softly, lifting a bone staff to pierce the sphere’s wall.
She had barely moved when a dozen black orbs slammed in and swelled before her face. She frowned into the sky. “You think A-rank magic can hold me.”
“Is that it. I give you face to settle this one on one, and you refuse,” Orson said, puzzled. He sighed. “Fine. I will break you first.”
The God of Fear sneered. “Chaos god, you and I both hold god-seeds. Who are you to boast before me…”
Before she could finish, Orson dropped the act.
His war staff shuddered like thunder. Chaos orbs streaked out.
“Out of my sight.”
The God of Fear met him, bone staff to staff.
She knew at once something was wrong. Her netherfire was snuffed on contact. The gap in attack power was too large.
Mirror-bright light flashed and vanished.
“So fast.”
She blinked away. The accelerated orbs curved like they had eyes, tracking her no matter how she moved.
Her face twisted. She braced her staff and spewed shield after shield.
Block exceeded by 13 million.
Block exceeded by 14 million.
“All blocks successful… and I still lost 120 million HP.”
She stared, stunned, as her shields crackled. Chaos fire burned without end.
“You refuse the polite wine and choose the penalty. For what,” Orson said with a thin smile.
He raised his staff again. This time the God of Fear panicked and shouted, “Stop. I will duel him one on one.”
Under the baffled stares of the gods, she turned and dove into the black sphere without looking back.