Rivers of the Night

Chapter 758: Drunken Talk (3)

A silence fell, one only casually interrupted from time to time by Theron’s burping and murmuring.

There were too many gazes to count, and not a single one of them seemed capable of taking their eyes off of Orchu.

Everyone knew the most important foundational technique of the Chron Clan. It was their Chron Displacement technique, one that allowed their body to be superimposed across several locations at once. It could be said that it was an ability so ingrained in their Bloodline Resonance that sometimes the greatest curse of the Chron was when their babies were too talented.

In the past, there were horror stories of the Chron losing their children to distant, unknown lands because they couldn’t control their Mana.

In fact, General Ameridia was one such child. The difference between her and the other Chron that had suffered such a fate was that... she had managed to make her way back.

Regardless, when this ability was well controlled, it was both an elite movement and defensive method. If it was used cleverly, it could even become an exceptional offensive maneuver as well—but once again, that was entirely up to the skill and abilities of the genius using it.

Essentially, a Chron was able to separate their body into several forms and locations. If they had two such projections, any attacks landing on one would be equally divided between the two, dissipating through the distance of space they had to travel, and thus weakening it by upwards of 20 to 30%.

Of course, this wasn’t a true defensive method. That was because even if you were separating your body, both were still your body. It wasn’t the act of separation that was helpful—otherwise, the power would drop by 50%. Instead, it was the act of this attack having to travel a larger distance than it expected to that was truly the weakness in question.

That said... there were Chron so powerful and talented that they were capable of approaching this 50% target quite closely, the density with which they were capable of folding and restricting space being so great that they were able to essentially make it so.

Meaning... if such a Chron was able to superimpose across three locations instead of two, they would experience a 67% reduction. If it was four instead of three, they would experience a 75% reduction. If you got all the way up to ten, you would only have to face just 10% of an opponent’s striking power.

Of course, such Chron were incredibly rare, even with how rare the bloodline itself already was.

Orchu was quite good. He had yet to reach his full potential, but he was capable of superimposing across four different locations. Thanks to this, he was able to creep up to about a 40% reduction in the power of the enemies he faced.

He wasn’t nearly as good as his eldest brother, and certainly nowhere near that of Ameridia herself, but most enemies he faced couldn’t do much of anything to him.

Until now.

Theron didn’t just ignore his superimposing ability. He practically used it to his advantage.

Orchu felt like he had experienced the same attack four separate times, all at 100% strength. Rather than a 40% reduction in power output, it was like he had helped Theron increase the power of his strike by four times.

And now, as alive as he was, he was hacking and wheezing for breath as his neck down forgot how to function.

The potent stench of piss filled the air as a warm and dark spot poured into being from Orchu’s crotch.

Theron pinched his nose. "Gross."

He took another swig of wine and then held it up to his nose to spare him from the disgusting stench. Then he looked over toward Mayahlei.

"Okay, that’s one brother. How many other brothers do I need to fight, again?"

Benedie and Malicii stood there completely frozen.

The strength gap between themselves and Orchu wasn’t large at all. In fact, they were the ones that were slightly weaker than him. But given the display they had just seen, even if they had teamed up with Orchu from the very start, they wouldn’t have been able to even slow down the end result.

Theron’s words hung heavy in the air.

This would be no fun, he said...

Arrogant to the point of being obnoxiously so, and yet there was nothing at all that they could do to refute it. What could you do when the evidence was right in front of them?

This Quasi Cloud Mancer was far too powerful.

Theron burped. "Well?"

Mayahlei stood frozen, not sure what to say or even do at this point. Even for powerful Mancers, dealing with the Chron should have been a huge deal. But how...

Theron suddenly turned, his eyes landing on a particular table as though he had lost interest in Mayahlei.

"I don’t sense the groom approaching anytime soon. How about we spar a bit, Merchant King?"

A huge, behemoth of a man sat somewhat inconspicuously at a table. His aura and presence were so restrained that many seemed to forget he was there at all.

But Theron certainly hadn’t. What he did remember was this person okay-ing his death in the King Inn, though.

"I’m inclined to forgive and regret—wine seems to have made me giddy. But I can’t exactly let you off scot-free, now can I?" Theron burped and then smiled, his flushed face making one almost feel the need to coddle and protect him. There was just something about how gentle his tone was that made one have a particularly hard time hating him.

And yet, the Merchant King could only glare in concentrated silence as though he was very much ready for Theron to attack any moment now.

BOOM.

The entrance of the wedding ceremony shook as a group of three elders landed. They surveyed the region, their expressions as ugly as could be.

Originally, they hadn’t planned on interfering. But how could they remain silent with things being like this?