LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 52: Hesitation Leads to Defeat!
"Boy, is this your limit?"
On a patch of grass in the famed Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, Marquis Voban, still in his hybrid wolf-man form, faced off against Roy.
Their battle had raged across Tokyo, leveling buildings and scarring the urban landscape, until it had finally spilled into this once-serene garden.
"Hah… As much as I hate to admit it, 'never turn back until you hit a wall' isn't my motto," Roy replied with a bitter laugh. "As you said, Marquis, I'm nearing my limit."
Roy's body was riddled with wounds. His cardinal's robe was shredded, blood oozing from countless gashes across his skin. He looked like a man who had just dragged himself from the depths of hell.
For most, such injuries would be fatal. But for a God Slayer, they amounted to little more than surface wounds. What truly marked Roy's limit was not the physical toll but the expiration of his Lord of Radiance authority.
The fiery wings that had carried him through the air had vanished, and the angelic halo above his head was no more. Roy had reverted from his divine form to that of a mere human. His greatest mobility and speed were gone.
He could still fly using magic, drawing upon a power reserve far superior to ordinary magicians. But mortal magic lacked the divine authority required for the supernatural "Godspeed" of his abilities. Basic flight offered little utility against Marquis Voban, rendering Roy's options limited unless he could invoke another angelic-level technique.
"Humph," Voban scoffed. "To push me this far as a newcomer to our kind, you've done well. But your authorities are riddled with limitations. Once someone knows how to exploit the rules governing your abilities, defeating you becomes simple."
Though cruel and cunning, Voban wasn't known for sportsmanship. Yet he couldn't withhold a grudging respect for Roy's performance thus far.
"Simple, you say?" Roy smirked, steadying his breath. "Marquis, anyone watching us would say you're the one worse off. You're more battered than I am."
It was true. Marquis Voban's human form, now restored, bore horrific injuries. Flesh had been ripped away in places, revealing pale bone beneath. His blood loss was immense—enough to have killed any ordinary man several times over.
Roy's earlier relentless assault had turned the Marquis into little more than a living punching bag. Occasionally, Voban had managed to trade blows in a desperate bid to inflict injuries in return, but most of his strikes were shallow, amounting to no more than scratches.
Had Roy been able to maintain his Lord of Radiance longer, had his reserves of divine power been deeper, he might have battered the ancient demon king to death with sheer force.
But those were hypothetical scenarios—weaknesses Roy knew he needed to address in the future.
"Your divine power must be running low by now, boy," Voban said, his lupine eyes gleaming with sadistic intent. "Every punch you landed on my old bones hurt like hell, but the effort must have drained you. How many more can you throw?"
"More than enough," Roy shot back, his tone unwavering. "Why don't you come closer and find out?"
Voban sneered. "It was my mistake to lose control of my emotions earlier. Your authorities are far too peculiar. I can't be certain you don't have another trick up your sleeve. You can mock me all you want, but I won't take the risk of stepping too close. Your laughter will cost you your life."
The Marquis's emerald-green eyes narrowed, his wolfish cunning and caution on full display.
"I don't mock your caution, Marquis," Roy said softly, his grin widening into something both maddening and defiant. "But remember this—hesitation leads to defeat!"
Voban stiffened, then threw back his head in a booming laugh. "My body may be at its limit, but my soul can still fight! You've forced my hand, boy. Now you'll regret it. Let me show you what decisiveness looks like! For the first time in eighty years, I'll use this authority. Consider it an honor to witness it, even if it costs you your life!"
Voban's laughter ceased abruptly. His body froze, his breath stilled, as if he had suddenly died.
Before his lifeless body could collapse, a deafening roar split the air. It was the sound of a dragon—a thunderous, primal cry that reverberated across the land.
Voban's soul broke free of its mortal shell, transforming into a massive, forty-meter-long black dragon. The creature's eyes burned with the same emerald ferocity as the Marquis's. Its powerful body exuded an aura of unrestrained violence, and its sheer presence was akin to a living engine of destruction.
"Now that you've seen me like this, are you ready to face death?" the dragon bellowed, its voice unmistakably Voban's. "I'll send you straight to the underworld!"
The black dragon let out a roar that shook the heavens and the earth. It reached down with one massive claw, scooping up its discarded human body. This was Voban's ultimate trump card—a desperate measure reserved for life-or-death crises.
Having witnessed Roy's unpredictability firsthand, Voban had chosen to activate this form without hesitation. His dragon body, a war machine of unparalleled might, would crush Roy into oblivion.
"The Black Dragon of the Underworld," Roy murmured, recognizing the origin of the Marquis's authority.
"This is an authority usurped from the ancient Mesopotamian earth goddess, Inanna…
"Inanna, also known as Ishtar, is the Mistress of Heaven and the Goddess of Venus—the predecessor to Aphrodite in Greek mythology. But Ishtar is a dual-natured deity. She and her sister, Ereshkigal, are two sides of the same being.
"Ereshkigal is the Goddess of the Underworld. A Campione's authority is determined by their affinity. And so, Marquis, while you slew Inanna, you didn't gain the powers of the Sky Goddess. Instead, you inherited the strength of the Underworld Goddess."
Roy calmly recounted the history of Voban's authority, his voice steady even in the face of the looming dragon.
From Marquis Voban's two key authorities—transforming into a human wolf and summoning servants of death—it was clear that his nature and compatibility were deeply tied to death and the underworld.
"Hahahahaha!! You must've learned all this from that little girl in the Assembly, but what difference does it make if you know the origin of my authority?"
The black dragon of the underworld let out a wild, arrogant laugh, convinced that victory was within its grasp.
"It's true," Roy replied, his voice steady, "that I haven't turned 'knowledge' into a weapon. But I'm not the type to sit idly by and wait for death!"
The divine power within Roy surged once more as he activated his fifth authority—Isaac's Salvation!
This authority was designed to grant a brief burst of vitality when one was gravely injured, allowing for desperate last-ditch efforts or an escape. However, Roy's current injuries were not severe. Instead of suppressing his wounds, he used this power to push his body further, squeezing every ounce of his strength to temporarily replenish his dwindling reserves of divine power.
"Come, Marquis! I'm not done yet!"
Roy straightened his posture, standing tall despite his tattered robes and burnt skin. His gaze was fearless and resolute as he locked eyes with the towering black dragon before him.
"You're nothing more than a cornered beast struggling to the bitter end," Voban sneered, his voice booming from the black dragon's maw. "You've reached your limit. Your bravery is admirable, but it ends here. Your life will conclude beneath my claws!"
The black dragon opened its massive jaws, releasing a torrent of dragon breath. The deadly flames consumed the earth, leaving behind nothing but scorched, lifeless charcoal.
"Ten Plagues Oppression!"
Roy struck back, using the defensive counterattack techniques of The Hand of Jacob to intercept the dragon's breath. His body bore the brunt of the flames, leaving seared burns across his skin. The fiery pain shot through his nerves and into his mind, forcing him to groan in agony.
But this was a God Slayer's fight—a battle of endurance, resolve, and willpower.
At the same time, the divine curse of the Ten Plagues surged into Marquis Voban's body as he launched his fiery assault. Yet the Marquis, now a black dragon of the underworld, resisted the curse through sheer force of will and the unholy durability granted by his form.
As a dragon—a creature inherently tied to serpents and immortality—Voban's undead body offered him unparalleled resilience. The underworld's essence infused his being, making him a nearly invincible monstrosity.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah!! This curse even dares to instill fear into my soul?! Truly a testament to God's punishment upon Egypt!"
The black dragon let out a pained roar. Marquis Voban recognized the origin of the Ten Plagues—a famous Biblical myth and a force not to be underestimated.
"Marquis," Roy said, his voice steady despite the burns etched into his skin, "is this your strongest form?"
Voban's massive emerald eyes narrowed, his draconic visage radiating malice. Roy, standing defiant amidst the devastation, continued:
"You may be an undead monstrosity now, but I've learned one thing from this battle: no authority is without limits, not even yours."
The black dragon snarled, but Roy pressed on, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the pain.
"You're stronger than I expected, Marquis. But strength alone won't determine the outcome of this fight. Not when I still have moves you haven't seen yet."
Roy's skin still emitted wisps of burning smoke, and the searing pain dulled his thoughts momentarily. Yet, a victorious smile graced his face.
"…The final piece of the puzzle is in place. It's time to end this battle. Victory is mine—victory belongs to the Lord of Hosts!"
Roy's voice rang out, resolute and triumphant. As his words echoed, a golden hand suddenly emerged from the distorted, mosaic-like void on his right shoulder.
Upon seeing the golden hand, Marquis Voban, now in the form of the Black Dragon of the Underworld, gasped in shock and exclaimed: "…What is this?!"