There was no conversation.
In the very next moment, Orsaga's fist—imbued with absolute speed and force—smashed straight toward Emosen.
Standing over six meters tall, his legs were nearly as thick as Emosen's waist. Visually, it looked like a full-grown adult pummeling an elementary schooler.
His punch landed with the weight of a warhammer, the size of his fist nearly matching the size of his opponent's head.
Faced with the incoming blow, Emosen instantly sensed it was something he couldn't afford to take head-on. His expression changed drastically.
Years of combat experience told him that at this range, dodging the strike conventionally was impossible. So, without hesitation, he twisted the blade in his hand and slashed it along the edge of Orsaga's arm, aiming to carve off a piece of flesh. At the same time, he kicked off the ground, using the momentum to lift himself into the air, pivoting on the blade to swing his body up and over Orsaga's arm.
When his weapon pierced the opponent's arm, Emosen could clearly feel the curse effect on the blade activating. However, the hardness of the battle armor covering Orsaga's body gave him a jolt of alarm. Despite exerting his full strength, the blade barely managed to stab through the surface. Driving it in any deeper was proving extremely difficult.
It felt like he was trying to cut through a semi-divine artifact.
Not wasting any more time, he immediately activated the weapon, injecting the full reserve of venom stored within into the relatively small wound.
All of this took only an instant—though it sounded slow when described. Before Emosen could even stabilize himself mid-air, a long, thin blood vessel shot out from the very wound he had just poisoned. Like a venomous snake ready to strike, it stabbed into Emosen's arm and injected something back into his body.
Faced with this sudden counterattack, Emosen immediately detonated his magic within the arm.
With a splatter of blood, the arm was blown off completely.
Orsaga glanced down at his own arm. The blood vessel retracted, and the wound was already healing rapidly. He didn't even spare a thought for the leftover toxins still in his system. With a cruel grin, he looked at the dark elf before him and said mockingly, "Pretty decisive. I was going to return all that venom back to you, y'know…"
If the blade had carried some kind of holy purification enchantment, he might have been more cautious. But curses and poisons? To him, they were basically freebies.
As a demon, Orsaga was naturally highly resistant to both poisons and curses. And with the boost from his innate abilities, those resistances were amplified even further.
Aside from a few extremely rare toxins and curses, most of them might as well be nutritional supplements for him.
Rather than harming him, they could even replenish his energy and stamina.
But Emosen was another matter. Though his dark elf lineage granted him decent resistance to poisons and curses, it was still several levels below Orsaga's.
What's more, the blood vessel Orsaga had just used to inject Emosen carried not only the venom from the elf's own weapon—but also a powerful plague unique to Orsaga's innate abilities.
This plague was potent enough to kill elemental lifeforms outright.
If Emosen had reacted even a fraction of a second slower, he would already be dead.
"You bastard…"
Looking at his severed arm, which was now covered in festering boils and pus in just a second or two, Emosen was both enraged and relieved.
As a demigod, his physical resistances were formidable, but for that arm to rot so quickly—even with residual energy protecting it—proved that whatever had just been injected into him was no ordinary toxin. A slower reaction, and the outcome would have been catastrophic.
With only one hand remaining, Emosen raised his blade warily. Every nerve in his body was on high alert now, knowing that even the slightest lapse could cost him his life. Secretly, he activated a hidden communication device, hoping to stall for time until reinforcements arrived.
Unaware of Emosen's plans, Orsaga didn't immediately strike again. Instead, like a predator stalking its prey, he began to circle him silently, without the slightest sound.
A twisted smirk played on his lips as he taunted, "You'd be considered a demigod in this world, right? In terms of power ranking, you should be above me. If you hadn't let your guard down after cutting me, you wouldn't have looked so pathetic."
Hearing that, Emosen froze for a moment—he had just realized that Orsaga was merely a high rank demon. After a brief pause, he replied quietly, "…So what? Everyone makes mistakes. Paying the price for carelessness isn't unreasonable."
His words rang hollow—mere self-consolation to preserve dignity. Deep down, regret was already gnawing at him.
Though Orsaga couldn't read his mind, he could more or less guess what was going through Emosen's head. After circling twice more, he looked at his opponent, who remained frozen in place, staring back intently.
A hint of cruel amusement flashed in his eyes.
He pointed to Emosen's severed arm and said:
"Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention. That stuff I injected into you? While it acts like a poison, it's actually a virus that can spread through the air. It can enter a host through the skin. Sure, the effect is much weaker than injecting the raw pathogen directly, but... By now, I'd say it's about to kick in."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Emosen's already pale face twisted. His pallor turned to a flushed red, and his senses began to dull rapidly.
The sudden physiological response wasn't enough to kill him outright, and with some effort he could purge it and recover—but right now, this minor affliction was deadly.
Seizing the opening, Orsaga didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, reaching out with his massive hand to snatch Emosen's head clean off—determined to end it here and now.
Though dazed and woozy, Emosen still tried to activate his power and retreat into the Shadow Realm. But the moment he gathered his energy, he found that his body was riddled with impurities, blocking his movements from within.
He might've been able to flush them out with time—but clearly, time was something he no longer had.
Just as he thought death was certain, a stream of golden light shot toward Orsaga's head from over ten kilometers away, attempting to intercept the killing blow.
Orsaga didn't even flinch at the incoming attack. His hand didn't slow down at all.
Crack—
That was the sound of a neck snapping.
Emosen's head was torn from his shoulders.
BOOM!
The golden light struck Orsaga's face dead-on, erupting in a violent explosion.
__
T/N:
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