PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

This was the price of their choices, which they found at the end of their chosen path. Desmond couldn’t afford to be merciful to go further on his path.

A gentle breeze swirled around his ankles, quickly enveloping Desmond’s legs in a faint whirlwind. With Desmond as the starting point, an almost indistinguishable wind tunnel was generated; Desmond vanished from one moment to the next.

Almost instantly, Desmond’s figure materialized again, at the end of the wind tunnel, right behind Archibald. Behind him was only a trail of chaotic wind and a flash of silver. A moment later, Archibald’s head was severed from the rest of his body, falling to the ground with a thud.

Like a geyser, blood sprayed from Archibald’s severed neck; then, the corpse of the holy knight collapsed on the ground. The severed head rolled a couple of times on the ground before stopping, revealing the hopeless eyes of the now-dead man.

Father and son went to hell that way, lived according to their beliefs, and died for them. Desmond felt no guilt; they had made their own decision when they came for Cecilia, even knowing that she was being sacrificed for profit. The church had drawn their swords to Cecilia’s throat to hide their ugliness, corruption, and betrayal; they should have been prepared to pay the price.

At least Desmond was prepared; he knew that one had to be ruthless not only with his enemies but also with himself, which was why, as soon as Archibald died, Desmond coughed up a mouthful of bloody steam.

This was the price Desmond paid; continued use was not sustainable. Still, Desmond had forced himself to maintain the ability to face the three holy knights. There was no need to be fooled by how Desmond dealt with the three knights.

On the surface, it might seem that Desmond had barely made an effort to defeat the three holy knights; that couldn’t be further from the truth. Just the amount of mana he had spent was enough to exhaust him, not even mentioning the physical exertion.

.....

One had to remember that, in theory, Desmond was no stronger than Archibald and his companions. Desmond prevailed only through his combat style of extreme lethality and low stamina. The difference in martial prowess had also played a part, but it could be said that Desmond’s victory was due to the culture of power in this world.

People in this world saw power as a tool for higher status; they pursued power only secondarily and did not revere it. This led them to increase their power by any means available, primarily relying on supplementary resources.

This generated two-star class powerhouses, which, while equipped with a lot of high-tier gear that made them dangerous, their foundations were too unstable. They strongly lacked two of the four pillars that laid the foundation of a mana user’s strength.

In simpler terms, due to their deficiency, these people could only use around sixty to seventy percent of their potential. This was counterintuitive compared to the sovereign martial world, where aura users revered strength itself. They mastered martial arts and techniques that allowed them to go beyond one hundred percent of their potential.

Although this awarded Desmond the victory, he was still exhausted and wounded. Considering there was still an army at his gate and nine holy knights waiting, things were not looking good.

In fact, when the squad of knights following Archibald saw the death of their leaders, they were terrified, trembling in their places. Still, when they saw Desmond wounded and exhausted, they seemed to be mustering up the courage to face him.

There is nothing more dangerous than a wounded beast. Everyone knew that and the predatory look Desmond was giving those soldiers only reinforced that idea. Those blue eyes stared at them as if they belonged to a wounded wolf that couldn’t wait to use its jaws to rip out their throats and feast on their bodies as they drowned in their blood.

This was a kind of feeling transmitted through mana. Somehow the mana around conveyed the strong intent exerted by Desmond and his state of mind. With that warning, the soldiers did not dare to make a move and instead retreated to report the death of the three holy knights and request reinforcements.

Seeing the lack of backbone in this self-proclaimed army of god, Desmond only sneered in his heart. This was the result of the corruption of the church. In its ranks, there was no such firm conviction to defend an idea to the death; instead, they were just a bunch of dogs who only knew how to fear the strong and intimidate the weak.

Only when these soldiers retreated; did Desmond fall to one knee, blood spilling from his lips. Cecilia immediately panicked seeing Desmond like this; she immediately ran to his side, followed by Kyuru, who came out of her hiding spot and dispersed the wind barrier protecting Cecilia.

Worried that the only light in her world would be extinguished in his attempt to protect her, Cecilia asked a frankly stupid question. “Desmond, are you okay?”

Desmond didn’t seem annoyed by the question. It was enough to ask such questions reflexively when someone was worried about someone. It was pretty obvious from Cecilia’s tone of voice and expression that she was very concerned for Desmond’s well-being.

It took Desmond a moment, but he still found the strength to get to his feet. Desmond was suffering from a wide range of internal injuries due to the repercussions of the shock waves he was exposed to; that was how brutal the fight had been. Even when Desmond wasn’t directly injured, his body had been under enormous strain, and he wasn’t at his best. The only good news was that while the damage was extensive, it wasn’t too heavy.

Using his iron will to resist the pain, Desmond tried to comfort Cecilia before nearly biting his tongue at the scene before his eyes. Two four-pointed stars, shining with an intensity that would not lose against the sun itself, her long wavy blonde hair was now shining white like a star field. With Cecilia as the epicenter, a field of soft light expanded, covering much of the room.

This was the ability that Cecilia had tried to use to heal Nana, a kind of healing light field. Desmond realized how rare this ability was only now that he was experiencing it firsthand. Desmond could feel light mana within it, but there was another strange energy that he couldn’t identify. The closest Desmond could relate to this energy was the telekinetic force used by Claire.

Though of an entirely different nature and characteristic, Desmond had a strong feeling that this energy was what was called arcana. Given Cecilia’s evident transformation, Desmond surmised that her ability to use the arcana was due to her status as a fledgling Celestial.

Quite different from the effect given by potions, Cecilia’s light field did not amplify regeneration through mana from various properties and instead directly healed wounds. This sounded similar, but in practice, they were different concepts; Desmond at least understood as much.

Slowly but steadily, Desmond felt the pain subside and his breathing steady. Although it felt less effective than using high-level potions, Desmond was slowly regaining his peak state. Usually, a potion would only help him heal a wound quickly, at the cost of consuming a good chunk of mana or stamina. In contrast, other potions would not have those side effects but would take much longer to help him heal.

All things considered, Cecilia’s ability was pretty incredible in its own right. It was a pity that Desmond didn’t have the time to spare to take advantage of it. Smiling kindly at Cecilia and clarifying that he was feeling better thanks to her, Desmond made a rather brutal move to buy time.

In the outer courtyard of Cecilia’s tower, where a small church army led by nine holy knights gathered. The news of what happened inside the building had just been delivered. Hearing of the death of three holy knights, everyone was utterly stunned and terrified; you had to know that it had been many years since a holy knight had died in combat.

Although fearful of death, orders were orders; the other nine holy knights knew this very well. To the good humor of said holy knights, it seemed that Desmond was in a vulnerable state, so it shouldn’t be too hard for them to kill him.

In fact, some suggested bringing down the entire tower from the outside so that both Desmond and Cecilia would die entombed in tons of rock and debris. It sounded tempting enough, but it would be too big of a move, and the last thing these holy knights wanted was for this incident to draw attention to itself.

The church wanted to clean its hands quickly and quietly deal with the Cecilia issue. Bringing down one of the tallest towers in the entire city in broad daylight did not fit into those plans.

As they prepared to enter the tower, two shadows fell at high speed from the highest window of the building, followed by a third shadow. Some soldiers quickly moved out of the way to avoid being hit.

Three corpses smashed to pieces on the ground with a somewhat disgusting thud. Needless to say, these were the corpses of the three holy knights who died at Desmond’s hands. No one would have expected Desmond to go so far as to don’t even spare their bodies.

Standing with one foot on the window sill, Desmond sneered at the small army below, with her black hair blowing in the wind. “Three sons of Laezir now depart with their creator, to have bestowed upon them such an honor, I am a benevolent man. Who else wants to meet his god? Come, hypocritical little knights. I will turn this tower into your tomb.”