《God of Chaos》Chapter 54: Ignorance
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The atmosphere of the current battlefield had immediately changed with the appearance of a saint. The so-called existence that defied mortal limits, the perceived absolute limit of the mortal world. Svecko who was right in front of Willard smiled as he stared at Willard, because of the naturally awkward shape of his face, it was difficult to tell if Svecko was smiling or frowning.
“I have had a change of mind. Kneel before me as a disciple.” Svecko said with the same awkward look on his face.
Everyone that heard what Svecko had said was immediately stunned, especially Ducart and Darey. Ducart, who had personally financed the war, and had faced various major uphill battles to get things to incline the way he had wanted. But now, the number one expert on his side was inviting his enemy to be his disciple.
Ducart currently had a huge frown on his face. He couldn't believe the situation was about to change yet again. When they had finally gotten the upper hand, Svecko nonchalantly not only offered his enemy a way out, he also offered to be his teacher. The big question on Ducart's mind at that moment was whether Svecko was going to turn against them. If that happened, that would spell utter and incomparable disaster to everyone on his side. “How can this be happening? The lord from the Paisa kingdom had promised to assist me, so why is this Svecko choosing my enemy as a disciple?” Ducart couldn't help but curse inwardly at his terrible luck. First Willard had become a major thorn in his shoes, he had killed Allada whom he had much expectation of, and now, not only was he not going to die, he was going to become a personal disciple of a saint.
How many experts in the entire kingdom could boast of having a saint as a teacher? But Willard had gotten this opportunity at Ducart’s expense. Ducart was filled with an overwhelming sense of hatred towards Willard. He couldn't believe that just this one insignificant warrior under the command of a child like Sebastian Garrett, had caused him so much defeat time and time again and to make matters worse, he was about to gain a status much greater than any warrior in his command.
The state of the battlefield had turned stale, the former cheering noises of the Minya warriors had completely died out and left a melancholic atmosphere. The situation before everyone had completely changed, the most important figure of this battle had strangely become the astonishingly talented youth before them.
“Kneel before you as a disciple?” Willard said out loud as he pretended to be in a state of thought. “Tell me, if I become your disciple, would you kill every single one of my enemies?” He finally asked before a delinquent smile blossomed on his face. The choice of whether Willard took Svecko on as his master or not? Was not even a question on his mind. Willard had simply thought to take advantage of the situation before him. If the person before him would kill his enemies, why shouldn't he take advantage of that? Watching them kill themselves while he preserved his strength would be the best possible scenario for things to play out.
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The faces of everyone on the Minya side all immediately changed. This was the worse possible scenario of things that could happen to them. If a saint decided to massacre them, there would be nothing they could do to fight back. “What the hell kind of situation is this? This damn Ducart has doomed us all.” Darey furiously thought to himself as he gave Ducart a slight hateful glance.
“Sir Svecko,” Ducart called out in panic. “Don't forget my arrangements with the Lord of Paisa,” Ducart added in complete fright. Those around Ducart turned to give him a strange stare. At this point in time, a lot of different thoughts was rushing through Ducart’s mind. He thought back to all the sacrifices he had made for this battle, all the prices he had to pay to guarantee his victory. He had even sold his allegiance to the neighboring Paisa kingdom and yet all this was about to be for nothing. The person that was supposed to his trump card might very well be the one to kill him.
“Shut your mouth.” An angry voice echoed all through the battlefield. The voice was none other than Svecko himself who was angry at the fact Ducart had mentioned the Lord of Paisa. “If you mention his lordship and the kingdom of Paisa again out loud, I would kill you on the spot.” Svecko’s angry voice sounded in Ducart's ears alone.
Svecko turned his attention back to Willard, but this time around his strangely shaped smile was nowhere to be found. This time around his expression was clear as day, he was not pleased. “I will give you one last chance to kneel before me.” Svecko coldly said to Willard, who seemed the same exact way he had been throughout the entire battle. “If you know what's good for you...” Svecko was saying before he was interrupted by Willard.
“In that case, I refuse,” Willard responded indifferently. “If you kill them all, I would kneel before you as a disciple.” He added. A vein angrily bulged on Svecko’s forehead. In all of his life as a saint, no mortal had ever spoken to him in that manner. Even among saints, very few would have the courage to speak to him in that manner.
Svecko was slowly starting to be overtaken by a raging sense of anger, but as he stared at Willard, who did not even seem to think much of his statement, couldn't help but think of what could be giving him so much courage in front of a saint. After a brief second of contemplation, Svecko immediately started laughing. “Ignorance,” Svecko concluded in his mind, had to be all that drove Willard. No other mortal would have that much courage in front of a saint, only an ignorant person who knew nothing could possibly behave that way.
Ducart who had just heard that was utterly stunned. Who in their right mind would dare talk to a saint in the manner Willard had just done? Especially after knowing the person was a saint. “It seems the heavens have not forsaken me.” Ducart thought as a joyful expression slowly came on his face. "Who would have thought this Willard fellow would be so arrogant? Truly foolish."
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“Truly ignorant,” Svecko said as he took a step towards Willard. “Your talent is truly amazing, but are seriously lacking in brains.”
“You were offered the heavens, yet you choose the dirty mud.”
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Baya who was leading the way as he rode his mount, couldn't help but grow slightly excited. At this point in time, he had noticed they had reached the outer limits of Marquis city. A particular scenic memory of the region flowed through his mind as he remembered walking through those parts on foot, while he was on a mission to get the Living Fire Plant.
It had been more than two full years since Willard had gone missing. Baya was the only one who knew he was alive because of the talisman Willard had left for him, but he wasn't entirely sure of the safety of Willard's environment. Willard was the first person who had truly set him on the right part in his martial cultivation journey, he was someone he had the highest degree of respect and reverence for and now he was about to see his master again.
Baya turned back to look at the carriage behind him. He knew the head of the Gerret house, Lord Jayesh, who was a powerful expert was in that carriage. His mission this time around, bring the head of the Gerret house a message, had been successful. Now all he could think of was getting back in time.
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Kanban who had arrived at the gates of the Gerret household was signaling for the gate to be opened for him before he caught wind of some movement coming from the far right corner. His demeanor quickly changed as he noticed a group of people riding their horses and heading towards the Garret household. His originally tense expression quickly changed to an excited one. “Sir Allen” Kaban said as a smiled slowly blossomed on his face.
“Isn't that Kaban?” Agnes who was riding beside Allen and the other knight, Tadea, said out loud.
“He seems to be in a bad shape. Perhaps the battle has already intensified to the last stand.” Tadea responded.
“Where exactly are the Minya forces?” Tadea asked as he and Agnes discussed while they rode their horses towards Kaban. Allen had remained completely silent the entire time. He was like a rock, expressionless and seemingly unfazed.
As the knights reached the gates of the Gerret house, Kaban gave an honest bow as he greeted them. “What is the situation?” Allen asked
As Kanban began narrating the events that had transpired, the gates to the Gerret household cracked open. Sebastian walked out with a distressed expression on his face. Although he wasn't present at the battlefield, he was still able to guess what the situation had been. After all, the towering size of the aberrations was something he could see from the Gerret household.
“Greetings city knight,” Sebastian said as he gave an honest bow.
“After the greetings, Kaban narrated the situation of everything he had experienced until the time he was saved by Willard. As he finished his briefing of the situation, more of the warriors and archers that had stayed longer on the battlefield than Kaban himself, arrived at the gates of the Gerret household. Some of those warriors had seen Willard fight against those aberrations by himself and narrated what they saw to the knights and Sebastian. One person in particular, while escaping, had seen some of the glorious scenes of Willard’s battle with the aberrations.
At this point in time, none of the people that had made their way back to the Gerret household had witnessed the appearance of the saint level combatant, Svecko. After making sense of all the information they received, Allen took command of all the Gerret warriors and rode out heading for the current battlefield.
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“It seems you do not understand your situation,” Svecko said followed by an increase in the intensity of the wind around them. “I took mercy on you because of the little talent you have, but you do not know your place.” He continued as he slowly started floating upwards.
Suddenly, the clouds rapidly started darkening. Snowflakes majestically started falling from the sky, while the temperature of the battlefield immediately dropped. “Domain” Willard immediately thought to himself as he stared at the floating Svecko. Willard immediately abandoned his earth elemental energy and started channeling the red energy from his core.
“This fellow seems to be much more powerful than Aorah.” Willard thought to himself as his expression became more serious. “He should be on the same level as the person that saved Aorah.” Ever since that encounter, Willard had known they were different levels of powers among saints. He instantly extrapolated that Aorah had to be among the lowest level of power among saints.
One after the other, screams filled with agony erupted at the forefront of the battlefield. Some of the unlucky Minya warriors who were caught in Svecko’s domain and were immediately turned to ice sculptures. The entire Minya forces all scrambled in a frantic manner to give some distance, no one wanted to die pointlessly.
As they got to a safer location, they all held their breath in awe to the power of a saint. Those who had managed to escape with their lives knew how cold the domain was, so as they saw Willard still alive couldn't help but acknowledge his strength. Truly among elemental energy users, there was none who could claim to be superior to Willard.
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Luck Lockyer
Luck Lockyer was the type of man to smirk in the dark, the expression not for anyone but himself. One of perpetual amusement. The bright side of things were hard to find in the shade yet his amber eyes were always searching. The smirk was his default, he knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it. It was his most natural state. But the death of everyone close to you can affect a downwards curve on the mouths of even the most stoic people. Without purpose, without anyone to do the job for, Luck Lockyer found himself inside an empty forgotten church. The perpetual smirk on his face had slipped to a thin line, his scar more noticeable now than ever before. His amber eyes, the windows to his soul, dull and lifeless. To anyone who knew him, it was the clothing that gave away his mental state, denim pants and a plain black t-shirt. If that wasn't enough, the tears running down his face certainly would, the echoing sobs of a broken man rang across the rundown church. It was on a whim, but Luck Lockyer prayed, he prayed for many things, for death, revenge, friends, but the one prayer dominating his thoughts, a second chance for his family. That was all he wanted. Simple. It was then, on the outskirts of a polluted city, in an abondoned lot, in a forgotten church that Luck Lockyer, the Devil of the Cards, the Bloodless Hand, the Amber Demon, the Broken, was answered by a being from another world and one from his. *found the picture online
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