In moments, an awakened was killed without even understanding how he had died, his eyes frozen in shock and pain.
Without hesitation, Mordret grabbed him by the collar of the armor that was dissolving into shining fragments and threw him toward two awakened nearby.
Surprise crossed the faces of the lost ones before their expressions turned serious. The body was split in two by a sword before five awakened charged at Mordret all at once.
With an arcing slash, Mordret blocked the first attack, striking back with enough force to throw the lost one backward.
Another sword came toward his ribs, while three more awakened followed right behind from the flanks.
Mordret gave a forced smile, his lips curving into an expression of pure ecstasy.
"Weak!" he spoke loudly enough for all to hear.
Turning his body, he dodged by mere inches from the sword heading toward his ribs; sparks flew when the blade scraped against his armor.
The opponent's body fell forward.
With a clean movement, Mordret slid the sword through the air, piercing the neck of the awakened who had attacked him moments earlier.
Pulling the sword along with the body, he placed the corpse between himself and the blades coming from the sides, successfully blocking them.
The disbelief in the awakened's eyes was overshadowed by the aura emitted by Mordret.
Suddenly, he dismissed the illusory sword, leaving his hands free.
Clenching his fists, Mordret struck one lost one hard in the chest and, at the same time, grabbed the other by the throat.
The struck awakened was thrown far away, flying until he met the cold temple walls.
Without difficulty, Mordret once again placed an awakened's body in front of the final blade. But this time, the strategy did not work; the lost one had already understood it.
The awakened jumped to the side, intending to strike Mordret without harming his companion in the process.
Snorting, Mordret simply twisted the man's neck at the wrong angle, tearing out a deep groan of pain before life left the body.
He dropped the corpse and stepped back several meters.
The awakened was momentarily unsure what to do; he had not expected Mordret to retreat so suddenly.
'They think only they can do that? Ridiculous.'
Within a few seconds, Mordret made the illusory blade appear again; now it shone even brighter.
He stepped forward, ready to tear through the remaining lost one's chest.
But when the weapon was about to touch the awakened, something flew.
An arrow crossed the distance swiftly, striking Mordret's hand with precision and tearing off two of his fingers.
A scowl formed on his face, not because of the pain, but because he had been interrupted.
Casting a glance toward where the arrow had come from, he saw ten armed awakened running in his direction, while some, armed with bows, attacked him from long range.
"Come!" With a dangerous smile on his face, Mordret shouted.
However, he was not nearly as excited as he seemed.
His essence slowly, but steadily, decreased.
His vision blurred little by little, while his muscles burned from the strain.
It might seem that Mordret had everything under control and that nothing in that world could stop him. And that was what Mordret wanted people to see.
An unpurgeable demon.
An indescribable and indefinable monster.
The definition of terror...
But in the end, Mordret was still human. Or at least something close to one.
Mordret could still feel exhaustion, pain, fear...
His essence, even being greater than that of other awakened and possibly on the same level as some Masters, could still run out.
If that occurred, he would become vulnerable, and that meant the chance of being imprisoned again.
Mordret would not let that happen, if his life depended on it.
He preferred death to being caged for another eternity.
So, the best way to instill fear in his enemies was to make everything he did seem effortless.
It must be horrible to fight against an extremely powerful opponent, join forces with others, give everything you have, and in the end, the bastard is still smiling the same way...
It was nothing more than a mere tactic to shake the lost ones' will to fight.
"Hehehe..." Nevertheless, the fight was still difficult, not to say almost impossible.
A sword pierced through Mordret's clavicle, the feat accomplished by an awakened who was already on the ground but had not yet lost the will to fight.
Kicking him away, Mordret heard the crack of the man's neck before being forced to retreat again.
Before he could reason, a searing pain struck his heel — blood flowed from the wound.
His Achilles tendon had been compromised.
A spear came from behind his head, striking the joint of his arm and tearing it off.
Without one of his arms and breathing with difficulty, Mordret found himself, ironically, in the same position as the owner of the body at the moment he had defeated him.
"Die, bastard!" An awakened's sword came as a thrust, striking directly into his eye and sinking deep into his brain.
At least seven corpses surrounded Mordret, not including the awakened killed at the beginning of the fight.
The sound of steel falling and terrible screams diminished.
Until it disappeared.
At last, Mordret's body convulsed for a few moments, strength leaving him.
But, as a natural provocateur, Mordret made sure to give the most satirical smile he could.
He collapsed under the hollow gazes of the survivors, nearly dead.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps came from the end of the corridor, accompanied by lamplight.
Master Pierce led a troop of awakened; his austere face was serious.
Upon arriving at the scene, he found the mutilated bodies, while only a few of the surviving guards gasped for air.
"What happened here?" Pierce did not even bother to check the condition of his soldiers; he had only one thing he was concerned about.
"One of ours was taken, sir! That thing took Hozoin's body and killed eleven before we managed to kill him..." a lost one promptly explained; the sadness in his voice was noticeable.
"Hum... And the prisoners? Are they still in the cell?"
The awakened hesitated to answer, as if trying to process that the commander did not care about them.
"... They are fine, sir. There is no problem with the prisoners."
Pierce observed him calmly, approaching with slow steps.
The awakened grew slightly tense, unable to look Pierce directly in the eyes.
Upon standing before the lost one, Pierce analyzed him before letting out a tired sigh.
"Very well, you did a good job..."
A blade was suddenly drawn by Pierce!
The weapon disappeared in a blur before reappearing deeply embedded in the awakened's chest.
"Argh! Why?!" A scream of pain escaped the awakened's lips as he grasped the sword that pierced him.
The other lost ones were in shock at the scene, not knowing how to react.
Had Master Pierce finally gone mad?
However, without giving an answer to the young man he had impaled, Pierce stared at him darkly.
"Don't you get tired of disguising yourself? Your tricks don't work on me, demon." The Master hissed; his cold tone contrasted with the hatred in his pupils.
Confusion spread among the lost ones before something strange occurred.
The awakened who had been attacked by Pierce began to laugh; small drops ran down his cheeks.
"You are better than I thought... I believed I was acting well."
Without caring about his own body, the awakened freed himself from the sword, tearing his own flesh without any kind of emotion.
"Let's keep playing..." The body was dropped, the dry sound of it hitting the ground echoing through the empty corridors.
Everyone remained silent.
The dreadful opponent, who had cost so many lives to kill, was not injured, much less dead.
Had all that effort been in vain?