Chapter 107: Twin Prodigies of God-Slaying

The flames on the battlefield were slowly fading as if a wind had risen from nowhere, leaving thin ribbons of black smoke spreading around the ruins. Zhao Tianxing stood alone upon the charred field, the ruin of what had once been a battleground, his solitary figure already beginning to blur.

Above him, the sky dimmed. The next contraction of the light curtain was near. He snapped his fingers, and a red flame burned at his fingertip. He watched the tiny sparks leap and flicker with a gentle smile; the little flame seemed to be cheering, edging close to his face in an almost intimate way, warming him without so much as scarring his skin.

Will came running from far away. When he saw Zhao in the wreckage, he gave a brief smile. He had been the pride of their whole Oracle Team, their captain, and Zhao had never failed that pride, always leading their little band onward.

But for such a heroic figure, when he saw Will racing toward him, a trace of helpless sorrow crossed his brow. “Don’t come any closer.”

Will’s smile drained away into astonishment; he stopped short. His astonishment deepened into shock and then despair when he saw, at the top of a distant tower, a blazing “sun” rise into view.

It looked as though all the light in the world had been gathered there—blinding, and beautiful.

“Rommel, the Light Fox,” Will whispered, his lips trembling. At the moment the name left him, his whole body shook. He remembered last year’s contest, when they had faced the God-Slayer Team: the instant they entered the field, this same radiance had greeted them.

That time, Rommel had clearly not used his full power; he could not kill them outright. But this time was different. He held nothing back. A golden sun rose over the city’s towers, and far below, beneath it, the blond man stood clear as day.

In contrast to Will’s fear, a spark of exhilaration stirred in Zhao’s face after his first moment of helplessness. The chance to stand before a rank-ten master in the city, to trade life and death with one, did not come often.

From far off came Rommel’s magnetic voice: “To toy with fire before me? You are not yet worthy.”

Zhao raised his hand. The flame at his fingertips drifted in the wind, then swelled with it. With a flick of his fingers, the fire flew from his palm and grew until it was the size of a man’s head.

“I know you are a rank-ten master,” Zhao replied, “but you are no fire adept. By what right do you dare to lecture me?” He thrust his hand into the flames before him and drew out a long fire spear.

The moment he withdrew it, the tip twitched and shattered the nearby fire, leaving only a formless, still-burning lance of flame.

“I am the fiercest of flame, the ultimate of fire.”

Zhao lifted his arm into a throwing stance and aimed at Rommel in the open sky. After a sharp cry, the blazing spear flew from his hand, straight at the man beneath the golden sun.

“Where there is flame, there is light—and I am the master of light,” Rommel said, standing under that golden orb. He opened his eyes, and his gold irises flung out a terrifying brilliance. Seeing the lance charging toward him, he raised his hand and pointed into its path.

From beneath the golden sun burst a beam of blinding light, rushing out to meet Zhao’s fire-lance. They collided with a deafening crash.

No great explosion came. In the instant of impact, the victor was clear. Zhao’s spear was swallowed up in a heartbeat, while Rommel’s golden light, unhindered, struck through the circle of fire at Zhao’s side.

“Captain!” Will shouted. In one breath, a colossal pillar of light swallowed Zhao, and only at the last instant could he gather all his flame and hold it before his face.

It was a beam from the sky, running across the heavens before plunging into the earth and enclosing him completely.

Will, who had rushed forward, was shoved back by the heatwave. Had he not spread the heat outward in all directions, he might have been burned to cinder himself.

“Captain!” Will cried, unable to see anything in front of him. When the light finally faded, Zhao’s shape had somehow reappeared on the earth, nearly pierced through.

Though battered and broken in the worst way, he had nonetheless blocked Rommel’s strike.

“A rank-ten master, as the saying goes…” Zhao still held his defensive stance, but anyone could see he had reached the end of his strength. In a single exchange he had been utterly defeated.

“Captain, you held it!” Will shouted, his shock turning to astonishment. “You held back a rank-ten master’s attack!”

The common understanding was that only a rank-ten could withstand another rank-ten. Yet here was Zhao, not yet at that level, seemingly doing just that.

But unlike Will, who rejoiced, Zhao’s face darkened. “No,” he said quietly. “It was not me who held him back. He stopped.”

His voice carried doubt. Then he noticed the sparks at his side scattering away in every direction, and in that instant he seemed to understand.

“I see,” Zhao said as he slowly steadied himself, a near-feeling of relief crossing his face. “You, Oda…”

All the sparks streamed away from him as if fleeing a monstrous beast. Will noticed something strange too, and he opened his mouth to speak, but a deep rumble sounded from within the city.

When he turned, he saw rows of buildings collapsing with a thunderous crash, as if an invisible giant had shoved them aside. Dust rose in rolling clouds, surging toward Zhao.

Nobunaga Oda slowly pulled back the sword in his hand. The moment before, he had thrown that sword, and with it had unleashed a storm that shattered everything in its path, roaring through towers and bearing down on Zhao.

Then he sat down heavily, staring at the world breaking apart before him in silence.

Zhao faced the all-encompassing wind with composure, and finally closed his eyes. “I owe you a debt. Have I paid it off?”

“Not yet,” Nobunaga Oda replied, his gaze cold, his voice low.

“Is that so,” Zhao sighed. The wind raged on, tearing earth and sky apart. His figure vanished without a trace.

“Captain!” Will shouted in anger and panic, but there would be no answer from him now.

“God-Slayer Team!” Will cried, looking up in despair. After the tempest, the city before him looked as if a colossal blade had come down in one sweeping stroke. A whole fan-shaped district had been erased, leaving only a bottomless chasm.

What kind of power could do this? Will felt his legs go numb. He dropped to his knees at the edge of that giant rift, bereft of thought.

The trench before him seemed like the vast gulf between him and a rank-ten master—impossible to cross, even to face.

Nobunaga Oda had merely flicked his blade once, as though it were the simplest gesture in the world. Before him, the broken city was gone. Only the deep trench remained, stretching from his own building outward to where the light curtain stood.

“So you were the one who handled the opponents,” Nobunaga said quietly. From the darkness, Donghuang Taiyi stepped out. “I only met two rather simple enemies. Not much to boast of.”

With the sword returned to its sheath, Nobunaga walked to the broken wall of the building and looked down on Will, who knelt beside the chasm and trembled. In a low voice he said, “The Oracle Team is not a mighty unit, but their captain, Zhao Tianxing, is truly an exceptional man.”

Rommel dropped down behind Nobunaga. He gave a slight shake of his head. He knew of the old resentments between those two; it was all the cruel joke of fate.

“He has never managed to become a rank-ten master,” Rommel sighed. “Perhaps it was because of what happened years ago.” Nobunaga seemed not to hear him. He slowly raised his hand. “Let the Oracle Team withdraw from this match.” As he spoke, the wind began to spin.

“Nobunaga, there is no need,” Rommel tried to stop him. But Nobunaga answered coldly, “It is a contest. If the Oracle Team sought us out, they should have been prepared.”

When he finished speaking, Nobunaga lowered his fingers. The wind condensed into a blade and fell from the sky, aimed straight at Will where he knelt.

There is no mercy in Nobunaga, no pity. It has always been his way.

The sharp wind was about to tear Will into pieces. At that moment, in the rushing air above, a discordant seam appeared. From elsewhere, another wind-blade screamed through the sky, struck Nobunaga’s blade, and burst in a storm of force. His attack was deflected, and the earth behind Will was split open.

“Who’s there?” Nobunaga asked, turning with surprise toward the direction from which that jarring wind had come.

Far off, atop a tower hundreds of meters away, a young woman slowly moved her body in graceful circles, like a shrine maiden of legend. A many-hued paper fan opened and closed with her movements.

She was like a peacock of many colors, sumptuous yet never vulgar. With tiny, intricate steps, she suddenly closed the fan in her hand and with her light movements pointed it subtly forward.

A gentle wind rose from beneath her feet. The girl smiled, beautiful as a princess from a fairy tale.

“Wind-Maiden Lifa?” Nobunaga recognized her instantly. If she had appeared here, then the one he sought could not be far.

“Paul, come out,” Nobunaga said, lowering his hand and calling out. “I know you are nearby. If you try to hide, no one else will find you.”

Then a tall man appeared beside the wind maiden.

“Ha ha,” he said. “The two God-Slayers—truly, the name fits.”