Last Born Of The Desdemona

Chapter 398: Chapter 398: Isolde’s Anger

Chapter 398 – Isolde’s Anger

"What did you just say about my husband?" Isolde asked the eyeless woman, her voice coming out distant, as though someone else entirely were speaking.

The killing intent spiked dangerously, and the surrounding Crimson Daggers assassins braced themselves. Their essence activated in unison, the air shimmering with power and dread.

Isolde studied them, taking in how thoroughly she was surrounded, calculating fast.

Eyeless, for her part, looked at Isolde and smiled. "You have two choices here, Olympias," she said, Hound beside her grinning predatorily. "Either you surrender willingly, sparing all of us wasted effort and time, or we capture you ourselves. And that won’t be painless."

"Is that so?" Isolde whispered, tilting her head to one side, activating her skill.

She triggered her Second Skill, Disrupted World, using only its first application. Once active, it warped the surrounding perception itself, spreading multiple images of Isolde across the small battlefield.

The assassins’ eyes widened, but it was too late. Every clone vanished from its position in the blink of an eye.

They spun around instantly, hearts hammering, senses pushed to their limit trying to locate their target.

But how could they sense Isolde, if she didn’t want to be sensed? Only Eyeless and Hound could somewhat track her, their eyes widening slightly as they watched dozens of Isoldes beheading every Crimson Dagger with strange black daggers, each strike landing clean.

Heads flew through the air, blood raining down in torrents. The ground drank it up greedily, as though well accustomed to it by now.

The assassins collapsed like marionettes with their strings cut, heads rolling like balls, abilities erupting through the air in a desperate counterattack.

That was when Isolde triggered her First Skill, Sound Erasure, and the entire radius of the fight fell utterly silent.

The assassins screamed, but heard nothing of their own voices. Their hearts pounded, silently. Their comrades dropped one by one, nothing marking their deaths except heads rolling loose from bodies.

The blood pooling around them thickened by the second, dread climbing higher in every survivor’s chest.

Isolde moved like a wraith. Or more precisely, like Death itself. You only saw her the instant you were about to die, and it became far too late to do anything about it.

Even Eyeless and Hound struggled to properly track her movements.

It was as if her many copies phased in and out of existence, appearing only right behind their targets.

Eyeless’s empty sockets widened, something clicking into place.

She snapped her head towards Hound, only to find Isolde already standing behind him, weapons pressed to his throat.

She scanned the rest of the assassins and found them all dead — beheaded, or hearts torn straight from their chests — which was when the remaining Isoldes flickered out of existence.

Eyeless turned her full attention back to the real Isolde, poised to kill Hound, his face a canvas of pure terror.

The world seemed to pause.

Isolde spoke, and even in that world stripped of sound, her voice echoed straight into Hound’s skull, as if silence applied to everyone but her.

"I promised you, didn’t I?" she whispered, Hound frozen, body trembling. "You’re not walking out of here alive, little Hound. But I won’t stop with you. I’ll hunt down your family, your friends, even people you once smiled at in passing, and I’ll kill every last one of them. Wait for them in hell, won’t you?"

"Aa... aahh," Hound tried to speak, but his head was already gone, blood fountaining from the severed neck, painting the sky in gruesome color.

Isolde stared at Hound’s head, still frozen in horror, then stored it in her space ring.

His body dropped to its knees before slumping over onto the ground.

By then, Isolde had killed every assassin nearby, except Eyeless, who now watched her with an expression far more serious than before.

They faced each other, the scent of blood so overwhelming a haze of crimson mist billowed off the ground, curling around them like clouds against the sky.

"You’re far more interesting than I expected," Eyeless said, her body coated in fearsome essence, the surroundings trembling at its sheer purity and wrongness. "If you can wipe out trained assassins this easily, then we were right to try eliminating you before you become another Constantine. Another Bonnie and Clyde. Another Napoleon. Another—!"

"Shut your mouth. I won’t become anyone else," Isolde cut her off, eyes cold. "I’ll become Olympias. And your sect will learn to fear that name more than any of the others you just listed."

"Ah, and how exactly will you manage that?" Eyeless smirked, taunting.

"Killing an executive of your sect seems like a decent starting point," she replied, her body blurring, appearing instantly beside Eyeless. "Don’t you think?"

She finished the sentence as her twin daggers flashed forward, striking at Eyeless’s neck from both sides.

Eyeless ducked beneath the attack, body fluid, supple. From beneath the ground, a long black needle bristling with black and green thorns appeared in her hand. She drove it straight towards Isolde’s stomach, who blocked it by concentrating essence at that exact point.

At least, that was what Isolde believed.

But as if anticipating the block, the weapon shifted course mid-strike, driving into her leg instead, drawing blood.

Isolde only grunted through the pain. Without pausing, she slammed her right elbow towards Eyeless’s exposed back.

She missed again, her strike catching only air, throwing off her own balance from the force she’d committed.

The setback let Eyeless reappear behind her, attacking while simultaneously binding Isolde’s legs to the ground with a burst of thorns.

The lethal threat closing in behind flared a warning through Isolde’s mind. She immediately triggered her Second Skill’s second application, and Eyeless’s movements suddenly slowed, lagging.

Isolde used the opening to break free and put distance between them, frowning as Eyeless shook off her skill’s effect with unsettling ease.

That application dragged a target’s mind into a shattered world where perception itself no longer existed, effectively paralyzing the body.

But no matter how much stronger Isolde had become, she was still up against a Fourth Rank being.

Beings who could become whatever they believed themselves to be, regardless of what was objectively true. A level of existence that couldn’t simply be brushed aside.

Her only real advantages left in this fight were her Ultimate Skill, and her blessing.

’This is strange, though,’ Isolde thought, studying Eyeless...and realized the woman wasn’t quite eyeless anymore.

Twin orbs of black and green thorns now filled her eye sockets, giving her gaze an eerie, horrific quality.

Isolde recognized that energy. A Soulblade.

Was that hers?

’And fighting her feels like she already knows what I’m about to do,’ Isolde mused.

[She does,] the Mother of Assassins spoke to Isolde for the very first time. [She can glimpse the future. Not far ahead, I’d wager. But enough to know when, and how, you’re going to strike.]

Isolde was so locked into the fight she barely registered the goddess finally speaking to her.

’If she can do that,’ Isolde’s frown deepened, ’doesn’t that mean even if my very existence is forgotten, if she sees a future where she’s attacked, she can still counter it?’

[Yes.]

Isolde exhaled quietly. This woman felt purpose-built to counter everything Isolde could do.

"Finally starting to understand your situation?" Eyeless said, cracking her neck. "If so, let’s wrap this up quickly. I’d rather Anger and Smile not learn what I’m doing here, or what I intend to do with Cassius."

"You’ve mentioned Cassius quite a lot since we met," Isolde said, grinning coldly. "What, are you some kind of fan?"

"A fan?" Eyeless echoed, then laughed. "Maybe! Maybe I am, in the end. A fan of what he could become, beside me. A fan of the kind of Samael I could shape him into. Can’t you see it, Olympias? He’s perfect for the role! Perfect to become our god, our savior, our guide! The Lord of Red Moon! I’m certain he could bear Moonlight’s ravaging thoughts, and Domada’s greed too; something most Samael could never manage!"

Eyeless’s face flushed red by then, eyes burning with obsession and the fierce conviction that she alone understood what Cassius was meant to become.

She had no idea how or why she believed it so completely. But she did. Certain of it, even.

Cassius Desdemona belonged to them.

"And not even Hatred will stop me," she hissed, her body twisting into something grotesque. "If I have to go up against all of them to prove I’m right, then so be it, Olympias. I want your husband. I’ll make him mine, make him our god. He’s my Chosen One!"

Her transformation continued, eyes bursting across her body, blinking open one after another, each one different from the last. The air around them wailed as a domain began unfurling, sealing Isolde inside it.

The domain’s walls were built of living eyes, tongues made of a hundred tiny eyes lolling out from each. The sight alone was enough to chill anyone.

The domain’s effects became apparent instantly, though Isolde couldn’t quite explain them. She felt watched — by billions, somehow. Watched in a way that made moving without being seen impossible.

Being forgotten. Being no one at all. That was Isolde’s greatest strength, honed since childhood.

But now she’d been dragged into a world where everyone saw her, clearly, and being forgotten was no longer an option.

Isolde stared at Eyeless, and understood exactly what was happening.

"Phantasm," Eyeless spoke through the countless eyes covering her body, "Thousand Eyes of Thorns."

The pressure was suffocating.

Yet Isolde’s expression stayed steady, unwavering, despite the sweat breaking across her skin. Her first time ever facing a Phantasm, and her heart was pounding.

But death has a way of making you look fearless, even when you’re anything but.

She stared hard at Eyeless, replaying what she’d just said about her husband.

And out of everything Eyeless had said, the one line Isolde couldn’t shake was: ’I’ll make him mine.’

Isolde took a deep breath, and her aura shifted, deepening, darkening, turning murderous.

Her black eyes became an endless pit of darkness, silent and hollow, every trace of caution she’d carried into this fight burning away.

Her essence exploded, shifting from purple to deep, bloody red. Isolde poured everything she had, mind and body alike, into one single thing: her blessing.

"I originally planned to just wound you enough to escape. I had no intention of dragging this fight out endlessly," Isolde said. "I also hadn’t planned to use this so soon. I still don’t know its full limits, or its consequences. But I’ve changed my mind."

"You talk too much for an assassin," Eyeless said, appearing directly in front of Isolde in the blink of an eye.

She struck, thorns forming a needle in midair, driving straight for Isolde’s eyes.

Olympias didn’t flinch. She raised her hand and caught the attack directly, letting it pierce straight through her palm. The needle emerged out the other side.

Then she pushed her hand further through the thorns, flesh tearing, until she caught Eyeless’s own hand, and smiled.

"How about a little visit to the famed Kingdom of Death?"

Eyeless looked puzzled for a moment, then every one of her eyes widened in horror as Isolde’s voice echoed, and both their bodies began fading from the mortal world.

"Blessing: Traveler Between Realms."

Vorn, Lord of Death, was about to receive some unexpected guests.

—End of Chapter 398—