Rivers of the Night

Chapter 760: Only One (1)

BANG.

Theron’s spear appeared before his body, a fist bending almost to the point it touched his chest. There was a silly smile on his face as he skidded back.

He found this world of cultivation so fascinating. The Merchant King was just a Seventh Resonance Dome of Heaven Mancer, and yet his power made all the ones that he had fought until now feel like nothing more than a joke.

Not too far away, even Ayame’s eyes narrowed. The moment the Merchant King had said something about his title, she felt something within her stir.

BANG.

The two separated, and Theron swayed as though all the power his body had just exploded with vanished.

The Merchant King seemed a bit surprised that Theron was still standing. He looked at his own fist as though he wanted to blame it.

"It seems I’m a bit rusty." He cracked his neck, and the floor beneath him sank by a level as though his weight had increased by several orders of magnitude.

His body began to overheat, golden Flux Mana radiating out from him like a steaming aura from his pores. It looked as though he was sweating ambrosia, a sight that was oddly beautiful.

He clenched his fists for a moment, and a flashing line of gauntlets appeared. Somehow, they felt both illusory and impossibly real.

"Don’t break too easily," he said calmly. "I haven’t had real exercise in a very long time."

The Merchant King rushed forward again.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The ground shook, every clash causing a crater to appear in the sturdy marble. Yet, the material was so strong and sturdy that it hardly radiated outward.

The clash of two with this much power should have leveled a city, and yet there wasn’t even the slightest shake of the ground outside of the palace.

But the two of them didn’t seem to care in the slightest, one wearing a wild grin while the other wore a slightly silly one.

Theron’s body stumbled back, his neck curling as a fist just barely missed his chin.

He fell, losing his balance and likewise dodging an invisible aftershock.

The Merchant King didn’t seem shocked, his body appearing above Theron with a violent axe kick. An illusory golden armor covered his leg.

BOOM.

Theron rolled to the side as though changing his position in sleep. His actions were so lazy and lackadaisical, and yet he just barely managed to dodge every time.

The butt of his spear pressed into a crack in the ground, and the instant the Merchant King’s heel landed, he used the rush of air that came with it to flip to his feet as though he weighed as little as a fluttering feather.

Every one of his moves took the easiest path, but there was something mysterious and beautiful about it all. He embodied the fluidity of water and darkness, filling in cracks where it allowed him, and retreating where he wasn’t welcome.

On the one hand he was calm and patient, and on the other he was lurking where light couldn’t reach.

The violent attacks of the Merchant King were only becoming wilder and more difficult to predict. As though an engine revving up, he dug deeper with every strike, as though finally recalling how to fight.

The Merchant King trained hard and heavy every day, but battle...?

It had been a long time since anyone dared to ask such a thing of him. Too long.

And as he got back into the rhythm, a forgotten excitement bloomed in his heart.

He raised his head to the skies and released a booming laughter. The head of an illusory lion formed a helm over his head, his black hair gaining strands of gold as a full armor solidified into being.

Whether it was Mayahlei, Benedie, or Malicii—in fact, even the paralyzed Orchu—shock shook their pupils.

Flux Mana Manifestation.

That was something only a King Realm expert should have. How did a Dome of Heaven expert have such a thing?

The moment Theron saw the lion formation, something in him shifted. His blood boiled, and his hair danced in the wind.

How dare you?

This one sentiment had become the core and roaring fury of his bloodline.

This battlefield only had room for a single lion alpha.

Whatever drunkenness Theron had in his body seemed to be entirely burned away by the heat of his roaring blood. He took a step forward into the rippling golden aura of the Merchant King, his grip on his spear tightening as his Mandates bloomed.

Dark and Water Mana flooded into one another, a sea of indigo appearing around him.

Hot and cold clashed, steam and violent cold forming ice and plumes of heavy smoke in the air.

Yet, as quickly as they formed, they dissipated under the surging momentum of their auras.

The Merchant King’s pupils constricted as though he realized he had woken up a slumbering beast.

The world shook, and the shaking finally reached the outer bounds of the palace.

BANG.

They both moved at the same time, a clash of fist and spear shattering the air. Just as quickly, they separated before surging ahead again.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Spheres of destruction shook in their wake, every clash shattering everything around them.

Theron roared, his spear following an arc through the skies that brought with it a river of deep blue. Sparkling blacks and radiant blues layered into one another.

The Merchant King roared in kind, his gauntlets sparking as though with the embers of his Will itself.

BOOM.

Both went flying back on impact, crashing out of the walls of the palace.

Theron rolled to his feet and gave the ground a heavy stomp, shooting up into the skies like a raging comet.

He stood high above as though the clouds had become his stepping stone. Pulling his spear back, the veins on his arms popped and roared with every shuddering beat of his heart.

The moment the Merchant King appeared high in the skies with him, an entire two kilometers away, he suddenly struck.

Dark and Water Mana fell to the tip of Theron’s spear, obediently falling in line as the skies split in two.