At that point, Crater didn't know what to do but intervene. If he hadn't, Efeistio would probably have been defeated and would have lost every bit of reputation. However, if he acted, he feared what might happen.

Helial had revealed a talent great enough to pierce the sky. Still, tackling four generals at once would be too much even for him, not least because he was about to finish his Stamina.

Crater gritted his teeth tightly. Was it really worth losing such a genius, a future seed that would grow for the good of the homeland, only because Efeistio's whim?

Efeistio was a general, but this time he had made a big mistake. The Madonis, and even more those who were at the top of the military pyramid, had an ironclad code of moral conduct: their main task was to help those who were on the side of right, not those who abused their power.

Above all, a general loyal to duty like Crater could not bear the idea of taking advantage of his strength against someone lower in grade. Yes, Efeistio deserved a lesson, but it would not be right to let him succumb to the attacks of that boy.

Was it possible to resolve this mess without bloodshed?

Crater had followed Alexander for the good he had seen in him. In the populations they fought, hierarchies were determined by descent. There was no reward for skills. There was no social mobility. Those in power continued to oppress the weaker and exploit them.

The Madoni, on the other hand, had been able to take the best of discipline and wisdom from a people who had dictated the canons of culture across the continent for many centuries. Their customs were frugal, measured and just, different from those of the barbarians, from whom they felt the need to stand out. To remind themselves that they were men, not animals.

With such an upbringing and seeing a fellow soldier behaving like one of the men he despised so much, like one of those barbarians he was fighting, what could Crater do? Should he act like those people they criticized so much?

"What are you waiting for? Come help me kill him!” shouted Efeistio, mad with anger, his eyes dazed and his hair sticking to his face because of sweat. He had the look of a lunatic about to lose control. He never expected Helial to be so strong, much less he expected his dear friends choosing not to intervene in in such a situation.

Crater and the other two exchanged glances and were dumbfounded for a few more seconds, which to Efeistio seemed ages.

Helial, for his part, did not seem to care too much. At any moment, Alexander and the others could arrive to help Efeistio. If he really wanted to make sense of this this before dying, it might be worth carrying out what he had started.

At that moment, Helial remembered Iblis' words.

Had he already chosen to end his life there, to accept his limits and succumb?

And what if Alexander and all the other generals arrived, or the whole army got there too? So what?

He felt a sudden electric surge go through his body, as if a whole roll of chains had finally lifted from his limbs and wasn't weighting him down any longer.

Crater's pupils narrowed to slits. “What’s going on?”

Helial suddenly accelerated and seemed to horribly increase his pace.

If before he seemed to slowly advance on his Mana Path and strengthen himself while fighting; now he had made the Dragon Jump!

"He has suddenly become faster and no longer seems tired," said Tipatro in a low voice.

"And besides, his Aura has completely changed," whispered Lisima, impressed.

Crater nodded. “What did Efeistio do against the gods to enrage such a monster? Go tell Alexander, only he can resolve this conflict without a bloodbath. "

Lisima and Tipatro exchanged glances, and then vanished.

Efeistio continued to be beaten up. If before the General was still able to fight back, now he had no choice but to defend himself. He was just trying to resist.

In Helial's body, the power of Life continually clashed with its nemesis and vice versa, causing huge shakes of Mana within its Meridians and threatening to tear them both to pieces at any moment. But that same power generated a terrifying amount of energy.

"Help me!" Efeistio shouted, bringing Crater back to reality.

Help him?

The General was trying to predict what would happen if he really had entered the fray.

As Crater did his math, Helial snorted coldly. He understood that Efeistio, however extraordinary, was probably far from the incredible talent of the monsters Helial had known in Orma. Helial knew he was not yet on a par with Medusa and Circe, let alone at Pseudonym's level.

It would not have been so easy to hinder the one considered Circe's rival.

Medusa would have been Orma's most terrifying Goblin if Circe and Pseudonym had never existed. However, life is not made of "ifs". Unfortunately for the descendant of the Sect of the Worthy, life had left her only the third place. She, like everyone else, knew that she would never go beyond that barrier, unless Circe or Pseudonym perished.

Despite everything, not even Comodo could boast a talent equal to his cousin's, despite having reached a higher Phase.

Even if reaching Circe was Medusa's real goal in her training, Pseudonym was part of a world of its own. Nobody, not even that monster of Circe, had ever thought they could rival Pseudonym.

After all, legends don't come out of nowhere.

Pseudonym had built his own legend on blood and sweat. Behind him, there was a mountain of corpses of enemies and beasts.

Circe and Medusa had the support of Orma's largest factions, Pseudonym none. But the fear caused by the black-armoured warrior was unrivalled among the new generations.

Elixirs? Potions? Breathing techniques? Skills? Inheritance?

Pseudonym needed nothing beyond what he had managed to earn for himself. He had managed to climb the summit with what little he had.

These were Helial's true goals in Orma.

Medusa.

Then Circe.

Finally, Pseudonym.

Probably, although they were not too far from Orma's monsters, Alexander's generals were still quite lower in strength than Medusa. Defeating Efeistio would be nothing to rejoice too much upon.

Defeating all the generals together would perhaps be the equivalent of defeating Medusa.

Defeating Alexander, then, would be equivalent to defeating Circe; these, at least, were the estimates that Helial had made.

If, on the one hand, he might have been right about Medusa and those generals, Helial did not even remotely imagine the extent of Alexander's abilities.

And Pseudonym?

Helial did not know what the real extent of his abilities was and how much land his shadow could cover. But something told him that, probably, not even defeating the whole Madoni army and even the enemy army would be as hard as placing a single finger on Pseudonym.

So if he really intended to overcome Pseudonym and, someday, even what would be the reincarnation or descendant of Amaterasu, how could he surrender to a small army like that?

Something in his head finally exploded and a torrential current of Mana of Destruction began to fill his Meridians.

Warning:

Death of the Desolate Universe evolves.

New Degree of Knowledge reached: Draining Pasta

Without even having time to laugh because of the name, Helial heard an ancient voice, similar to Iblis', resonate within his head.

Every time you face a new enemy, as when you prepare a new dish, there's risk of failing. In cuisine, it happens that cooking exceeds the optimal point, that conditions are not perfect. But the real chef still drains pasta out of the water and tries to make it into the best possible dish!

Helial felt a large bluish vein throbbing on his forehead. In the meantime, he could have sworn he had heard Iblis's chuckle in the distance.

"What the fuck is that name ... AND WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT EVEN MEAN?!" On the verge of bursting into tears, he no longer knew what to say. The great lord of the universe had given his personal Breathing Technique a name so shitty that he absolutely didn't know how to react.

Draining pasta...?