Rivers of the Night

Standing hip-deep in the stagnant river was an older, middle-aged man, his eyes closed in concentration. Around him, the corpses of Lightning Blood Hounds floated, their carcasses already rotting and emitting a grotesque stench that sank deep into the heart and made one viscerally gag.

It should have taken weeks, if not months, for creatures so powerful to reach such a state of decomposition. But if one had been there from the very start, they would have known that it took less than an hour.

Cold water would slow down the rotting of corpses, but stagnant, warm water? It was the exact opposite. Not only did it bloat corpses, separating the layers between their flesh and making them more vulnerable, but it also accelerated decomposition through the softening of flesh and the introduction of bacteria.

This man seemed to have tapped into this ability, but on another level entirely.

It would take Water Mana quite some time to penetrate the bodies of these creatures. Even for a normal mortal, if a corpse was left to sink, it would take a day or two before it bloated to the point it floated to the surface and began to emit an unbearable stench.

However, Mist Mana had far greater penetrative power. Although seemingly harmless, against a dead opponent with no Life Mana to protect themselves, it could speed up the process significantly, creating the perfect environment to flake off layers of skin and introduce bacteria at deeper and deeper levels.

As the rotting stench continued to increase, the Mist Mancer simply vaporized more and more of this grotesque air into his Mist, layering it and slowly increasing the density of the poison in the air.

As time ticked by, the Lightning Blood Hound corpses sank to the bottom of the river, their remains reduced to masses of bone. They were replaced by more corpses, created by the numbers Theron and the others were killing.

Like they were controlling a conveyor belt of death, the Mist Mancer didn't lift a finger in combat at all…

Until his eyes suddenly snapped open. Looking ahead, a shock ran through him.

That was impossible. Someone was ignoring his layers of illusion and coming right toward him. Even General Pennel had been lost in this Mist, and the Mist Mancer had certainly paid the greatest attention to him. How could it be possible for anyone else to—?

'The boy.'

The little prince had said to watch out for him, to kill him at all costs, but it wasn't until now that the Mist Mancer understood why that might be necessary.

The Mist Mancer raised his hands, forming one set of hand seals with one palm and another set with his other hand. He split his attention two ways, using a special technique of the Sangun Clan to complete a Quasi Dual Casting.

Dual Casting should have been impossible for anyone born without a shocking double set of Meridians. But even the idea of such a thing was purely speculative, as there had never been a confirmed sighting of such a person.

However, there were methods of mimicking it that, while nowhere near as efficient, could get the job done.

The various hounds trapped in the Mist were suddenly, and then very quickly, being diverted toward Theron's direction. At the same time, just in case, less of the poison diffused through the Mist and began to accumulate around the middle-aged Mist Mancer.

Without having to cover a region as large as two kilometers with this poison, the concentration in the immediate area grew to sickening levels. Even the corpses of the hounds around him began to melt off their bones, their flesh rapidly consumed by bacteria until they became mounds of oozing black.

Mist Mancers, indeed, had little combat strength, even for a Gold Mancer like him. But that didn't mean they were helpless.

After giving him so much time to prepare, what chance did a little Silver Mancer stand—?

The Mist Mancer's eyes widened as Theron suddenly burst through his Mist, tapping a foot on the stagnant waters with a layer of Water Mana protecting his soles.

Theron's hair had become a stream of light pinks, baby blues, and delicate violets, a misty aura radiating from him as well. He hardly looked like a Water Mancer anymore, but instead more like a deity of these stagnant waters, come for revenge against the one ruining his domain.

"Impossible!"

The Mist Mancer was sure of it. Theron had been a long distance away. How could he be here? Right now, Theron should have been surrounded by hounds from all sides. No, in fact, he had just been torn to shreds a moment ago!

What the Mist Mancer didn't notice were the long cuts down the length of Theron's forearms.

Without a chance to think, the Mist Mancer directed the poison Mist toward Theron, creating wall after impenetrable wall to attack his body directly.

Theron burst right through it as though he wasn't afraid of it affecting him.

The Mist Mancer's eyes widened. Suicide? This poison had been crafted by a Gold Mancer. Weak in combat or not, Theron would die.

But would it matter if he lost his head first?

The Mist Mancer let out a roar, slapping out a palm with all the strength that he could muster. A concentrated hand of compressed Mist took shape, swirling in Gold Resonance Mana that shook the air and pulled in even more poison.

Theron's eyes sharpened, his body loading like a spring. The stagnant water beneath suddenly churned so violently that the bacteria and algae dispersed, leaving behind nothing but the purest of waters.

BANG!

He shot forward, throwing his cracked short sword forward as though it were a javelin and unsheathing his father's blade.

No one would ever expect a non-throwing weapon to be coming at them, and the Mist Mancer's lack of combat experience shone through instantly.

His palm was forced to defend against a blade that was ultimately of little threat, and he couldn't even react to Theron suddenly appearing by his side.

Chi.

A head slowly fell from the middle-aged man's shoulders.