Rivers of the Night

Chapter 757: Drunken Talk (2)

Orchu’s pupils constricted into pinholes.

The technique he had used just now wasn’t exactly supremely powerful, but it was a staple of the Chron Clan—so much so that almost every one of their techniques incorporated some aspect of it.

It was almost like a negative space formed before their attacks, a strong suction that was impossible to miss. And because of the dilation between what was happening and what those on the outside were experiencing, there was an often misunderstood and easily overlooked mental aspect to the technique that shouldn’t have been there.

Someone under its effects might have the feeling that they were already dead and it was already too late to escape, leading to a situation where they might remain in the same spot even if they might have otherwise had a small chance of slipping out of its influence.

Against something almost two entire realms of cultivation beneath himself, this attack should have been a sure kill. But what was even more ridiculous was that he couldn’t quite understand how Theron had pulled away.

Normally, when someone pulled away, Chron should have felt a strong resistance in his attempt to compress and control space. But it was like Theron had slipped through the cracks as though he wasn’t real at all.

And now he had fallen back on his chair, his back on the ground, his eyes pointed to the dim lights above as he burped once, and then again.

He didn’t seem to realize that he had almost died at all. Or maybe, in his eyes, he had never been all that close in the first place.

His arm swung out and the partially shattered bottle of wine poured down from above him, a stream of wine flowing into his mouth as though controlled by an unnatural force.

This sight shook Chron once again. What level of Water Mancer did it take to control that wine?

It wasn’t as simple a matter as it seemed at all.

Theron’s shoulders suddenly shrugged as though someone was picking him up from his armpits, but it was very clear there was no one there at all. He was using his own abilities, yet he had made it look like someone was aiding him in his drunken stupor nonetheless.

Shakily, he got to his feet, swaying before he stood up straight and tall as though he wasn’t drunk at all... or at least pretending not to be.

Theron burped again and then sighed.

He took a step and slipped, looking down confused at the palm print between his legs.

Shaking his head, he looked up at Orchu. "See what you’ve done?"

"... Who are you?"

"Who am I? Ah, little more than a leaf drifting in the wind at this point. I’ve asked myself the same thing. Am I even human? Who knows. What I can tell you is that I’m stronger than you, at least. I don’t know why you would insist on attacking me like that, but it wasn’t very nice, don’t you think?"

Theron burped again and Orchu felt his heart constrict. Suddenly feeling a spike of danger, Orchu roared out for help, but Theron had already appeared before him, a palm lightly tapping his chest.

At first, Orchu thought that it was nothing at all.

"Oops, I forgot to use Mana."

BANG.

Orchu suddenly shot out like an iron ball out of a cannon, his body crashing through tables as guests scurried to get out of the way.

He... forgot to use Mana?

Then why was there a spiraling force shredding through Orchu’s chest like that?

Ayame’s pupils had likewise constricted to the side. She didn’t think that Theron was lying; she hadn’t sensed any Mana coming from him at all. So where had all that force come from?

It was like something from inside of Orchu’s body had attacked on his behalf. But how...

Theron burped again, taking another swig of wine.

"Ah... I’ve run out."

He tossed the bottle to the side, its glass body clanging against the ground without any sign of shattering. It went to show just how sturdy it was to begin with.

Orchu rushed to stand to his feet, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. The aura of a Seventh Resonance Dome of Heaven expert spilled out into the environment, his Space Mana surging.

His body flickered into and out of existence like he wasn’t quite there at all.

The Resonance of the Chron Clan was quite unique. Their strongest aspect was in their movement abilities, not in their attack. Distorting space to move and cast illusions was what they did best. Normally, people had a very hard time seeing through them, and their defenses were exceptional as a result—or, rather, their auxiliary methods of defense.

Orchu was used to carrying all of the cards in a situation and not having to worry about potentially losing his life in the most ridiculous of ways. But right now, he didn’t feel secure in the slightest.

"Ai... I don’t know how fun this will be anymore. I’m too strong..." Theron sighed. "If I was still in the Ninth Gold Resonance, you all would have a better chance. Then maybe this would be entertaining."

Theron burped and then yawned as though he was truly tiring of everything.

He reached out a hand to the side and a bottle of wine shot over toward him, a vortex forming within its glass frame before it erupted upward.

Its corked cap shot into the air and a stream of alcohol flowed right into Theron’s open mouth.

"Alright, let’s get this over with, then."

Theron took a step.

PA.

The echo of a slap across the air reverberated. A second, a third, even a fourth echo all fluctuated through the currents at once, as though Theron had slapped four of Orchu at the same time.

In a daze, Orchu’s head spun, nearly ripping clean off his shoulders.

He collapsed to the ground, his body twitching.

The second in line of the Chron couldn’t even move. His spine had been snapped in two.