Read Novel Full Chapter 1157: High Level Thief [3]
Chapter 1157: High Level Thief [3]
A living Demigod possessed immeasurable value. Even if cooperation proved impossible, there were countless other methods to extract value from them.
Demigods could become living energy sources capable of supplying unimaginably powerful artifacts for centuries. Their bodies could be transformed into battle puppets. Their blood, bones, and souls were also treasures beyond measure.
The reverse was equally true. If the demonic supernaturals ever managed to capture one of Aurora's Demigods, they would undoubtedly think the same way.
Neither side was foolish enough to casually destroy such an asset.
From an outsider's perspective, the relationship between Aurora and the demonic supernaturals was almost contradictory.
They hated one another, fought endlessly, and constantly sought to claim territory, influence, and control. Yet neither side truly wished to weaken Aurora itself beyond recovery.
A crippled Aurora would not belong to either faction. It would simply become prey for the countless powerful civilizations watching from beyond. That outcome benefited no one except outsiders.
Their conflict was one of ownership. Not annihilation.
As strange as it sounded, if a Demigod from either side fell into the other's hands alive, killing them was often considered the least profitable option.
Of course, if they died during battle despite every effort, or somewhere outside anyone's influence, then so be it.
No one could stop every death. But if they possessed the ability to prevent it, then preserving that Demigod, whether as a prisoner, a bargaining chip, an energy source, or something else entirely, almost always produced greater benefits for their civilization.
It was cold. A ruthlessly pragmatic calculation stripped of emotion.
Unfortunately, the young man standing opposite him clearly hadn't reached that stage of thinking yet.
Or perhaps he had.
After all, this was a genius necromancer.
The old man could swear with his life that nothing was more important to a necromancer than corpses. They would do anything including selling their souls for a good one.
The old man watched the Bone Dragon descend like a golden meteor toward the blood-robed woman. His eyes narrowed.
Either way, he couldn't gamble. Whether Michael acted from rage or from calculation, the result would be exactly the same.
If he did nothing, Aurora would lose a Demigod-level strategic asset and instead strengthen one of their greatest and currently most unstable factors.
That he could not allow.
The old man's eyes became resolute.
When dealing with summoners, beast tamers, necromancers, or any supernatural whose strength lay primarily in commanding others, there was one principle that remained almost universally effective.
Capture the leader.
The summoned creatures would either lose coordination, become significantly weaker, or simply stop fighting altogether.
Of course, the difficulty of doing so varied greatly depending on the individual. Still, removing the commander from the battlefield was almost always the fastest way to end a conflict.
Although he had only just arrived, the old man had observed enough. The blood-robed woman had made a fatal mistake.
If, from the very beginning, she had gone directly after Michael, the battle might never have reached this stage.
Of course, he didn't think she was stupid. Battles between high-tier individuals changed in fractions of a second.
Once the youth's undead had locked onto her, escaping to attack Michael would have become increasingly difficult. Perhaps from that moment onward she had been forced completely onto the defensive where one wrong movement would have cost her life.
Opportunities in battle were fleeting. Once missed, they rarely returned.
Which was why he intended to seize the opportunity himself.
The violent battle between three Demigod-level existences had already destabilized the first layer of the void.
Spatial ripples spread in every direction.
Countless invisible cracks silently appeared before healing again.
In an environment like this, even fighting at the edge of the destruction range would quickly influence the surrounding space, and when that happened, long-distance teleportation would become extremely dangerous.
Even short-range movement through space would have to be performed with great care.
If he wanted to act, now was the best time.
Since the young man refused to listen, he would simply stop him himself. In fact, this solution was even better.
The blood-robed woman would be captured, and so would the youth, if he valued his life. Two troublesome individuals resolved at once.
Hoping the youth wouldn't hold too much resentment afterward, the old man's body disappeared without warning.
At almost the exact same instant, Michael's expression changed.
He had only just given a command to his undead when his instincts screamed danger.
Every hair on his body stood upright. A terrifying sense of crisis engulfed him.
Without even thinking, his head snapped backward.
An old, weathered hand had somehow appeared barely inches from his face. The distance between them closed almost imperceptibly.
Five inches. Four. Three.
Michael's pupils shrank violently.
So fast.
He hadn't sensed the old man's movement at all. Not even the slightest fluctuation in space. His body couldn't react. His eyes barely managed to follow.
The old man's expression remained calm.
Just as his fingers were about to grasp Michael's shoulder, something changed. The old man's eyes widened slightly.
"Hm?"
The familiar sensation of gripping a human body never came. Instead, his fingers closed around something incredibly soft. Small. Warm. Covered in fur.
"…A mouse?"
No. A rodent.
The old man instinctively lowered his gaze. In his hand struggled an ordinary-looking rodent no larger than his palm, its tiny black eyes filled with complete confusion.
For the first time since arriving, the old man's calm expression cracked.
At the same moment, more than two hundred and fifty miles away, space distorted.
Michael suddenly appeared beside a small rock outcrop hidden within a dense forest. His breathing was uneven. Cold sweat soaked his back. His heart pounded violently inside his chest.
"…That was close."
Long before this battle had even begun, Michael had already prepared for the possibility of someone bypassing his undead completely to reach him directly. Because of that, he had scattered countless insignificant creatures across the surrounding region, well outside the battlefield's destruction range.
Each one served as an anchor. The moment danger reached him, he wouldn't hesitate to use Wisdom's skill, Swap, and instantly exchange his position with one of those prepared targets.
Michael took a slow breath.
The old man's strength was indeed extraordinary.
If he had hesitated for even a fraction of a second, the creature currently holding that Demigod's attention would have been him instead.