Rivers of the Night

Chapter 863: Carnage

Ozen’s eyes, and those of everyone else, snapped toward the Mountain of Heaven all at once. Their gazes showed agitation, and their stomachs rolled.

“NO!” Ozen roared.

He could have never imagined that Theron would make it so far in the blink of an eye. He was still scanning nearby regions when he felt the shudder.

He stomped the air a single time and blazed in that direction.

In response, so too did the 167th-ranked Fire Mancer, his body becoming layered in ruby scales as he roared and surged forward. He wouldn’t let anyone step on that mountain peak before he did.

…

Theron’s step wavered only the slightest bit before he solidified. It was like the last bit of indecisiveness leaving him as the next step was firmer than the last, and the third even firmer than that.

And then he began to walk—slow and steady, unwavering and committed.

Energy washed over him, but he completely shut his brain down. He didn’t think about anything but his next step, allowing his body to enter a trance where his soul became dormant.

He needed his soul to recover, but his body… his body was in tip-top condition. It only needed to worry about taking the next step steadily and protecting Ayame from the harsh winds.

One step at a time, one moment after the next, slow and steady.

Theron’s eyes glazed over.

One, two.

One, two.

He held Ayame tightly to his body as the pressure increased, but he hardly seemed to notice as his senses practically fused with the mountain, becoming one with it.

…

As Theron climbed, the geniuses got closer and closer, and soon the mountain was in their sights.

They soared over the city and rushed forward with all the speed they could muster.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

At that moment, a pillar of pressure knocked them down from the skies.

Ozen landed on his feet, rocks kicking up in a shuddering impact. Without missing a beat, he hurled himself forward, his steps slowing more and more as he approached the mountain. But that didn’t stop him from striving as fast as he could.

The 167th, a young man who went by Prince Monu, landed soon afterward, followed by another cascade of people.

The shadow of the city and mountain loomed over them, but the pressure loomed even heavier, and not a single one of them seemed to grasp the weight of their choice at all.

In fact, maybe it was the case that they had made their choice long ago and had simply never noticed…

And that was precisely their downfall.

All they cared about was chasing after Theron’s back as he ascended the mountain, pushing against the waves that tried to slow them down. They were desperate to catch up to the person ahead of them, but they forgot to introspect, forgot to consider those around them.

As more and more of them fell to the ground—some much weaker, even collapsing to their hands and knees—they continued to jostle for position, and a battle at the foot of the mountain erupted.

The path Theron left behind was carved in blood, rivers of it beginning to flow as the once peaceful region of Mana became filled with the most volatile current in the entire plane.

Theron, though, didn’t seem to see this. He continued forward, building a path of his own, carving it out step by step.

He didn’t kill anyone; they couldn’t keep up with him anyway. How could they ever catch up in the first place?

He didn’t need to kill anyone. It was unnecessary.

But just because he didn’t… didn’t mean his actions didn’t cause the very thing he seemed to hate so much.

…

“No, no, no…”

Ozen tried so hard. He stomped the ground and tried to leap forward, but his back foot dragged instead, leaving a trench in the earth as it, too, slammed down.

But just when he cut the distance to Theron in half, he couldn’t remain on his feet anymore. He was using too much of his stamina trying to keep up, and he was already running on near empty.

If he had taken his time, maybe he could have walked up slowly and steadily, but he couldn’t accept being second place. There was no use in being second place. Only being first could give him the control he wanted, the glory he wanted.

He punched the ground and then clawed at it. Taking a grip on the stone, he began to crawl forward as though he were climbing a sheer cliff.

If his legs alone weren’t enough, he would use his arms and fingers as well.

Mana swirled around him and he roared, leaping upward.

He caught a new ledge of rock and pulled himself up once, and then again, and then again.

Blood flowed between his teeth and down his nose, pouring even out of his eyes and ears.

A roar scratched its way free of his throat.

Never. He would never allow this.

He was a Sacharro. He couldn’t lose to a Tatsuya. And he especially couldn’t lose to someone without either name.

A darkness began to spill out of Ozen’s mouth and eyes.

…

Behind Ozen, Prince Monu had completely become a humanoid dragon. Not only his claws and feet, but even his wings were being used for extra leverage, pulling himself up, and then up again.

He launched himself forward, flapping his wings—but they snapped beneath the weight, hollow bones sticking out of their bat-like skin at awkward angles.

Blood fell like rain, but he didn’t make a single sound.

He was a Tatsuya. He wouldn’t fall like this.

Rage fueled him, and he slowly caught up to Ozen.

The two climbed side by side, each pushing beyond their limits as the carnage and chaos below them grew.

…

Theron didn’t see any of it. His steps only entered a deeper flow, his body radiating with light as the pressure increased.

He wouldn’t allow a single bit of it to land on Ayame.

And then…

He suddenly crossed a threshold, and all of the pressure vanished in an instant.

Theron stumbled forward.