Chapter 61
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Chapter 61: The Tempering of Power
The second day vanished in a blink.
The third day disappeared just as swiftly.
Three full days and nights had passed since the instant teleportation, yet the endless cat-and-mouse game between Midi and Wiseman persisted.
Midi had slept less than six hours total during those three days. Most of his time was spent fleeing, with brief pauses to fight, bandage wounds, or search for water. Only his twenty years of adventurer Experience—allowing him to move through the jungle with fish-like ease, his speed and efficiency far exceeding the Demon Swordwomen—kept him alive under such relentless pursuit.
Yet Wiseman’s soul-tracking spells and the Demon Swordwomen’s tireless stamina and potent recovery kept them clinging to Midi like leeches.
His greatest lead lasted merely an hour before they closed in again, leaving fresh wounds in their wake.
Another night of brutal combat passed.
Winter’s cold wind carried birdsong as dawn broke on the fourth day.
Midi surveyed his battered body, felt his trembling limbs, and tasted blood from cracked lips. He resembled a Drawn Bow—uncertain how much farther he could run. His arms hung leaden, his mind and body pushed beyond their limits.
But Wiseman remained fresh.
For a Level 45 Necromancer, three days of chasing was as effortless as walking a dog. While ordering the Demon Swordwomen to harass Midi, he’d slept soundly each night, tended by contract demons. He awoke each morning revitalized, ready to unleash full firepower.
Dawn became Midi’s crucible—the hour he faced Wiseman’s peak strength.
Could his exhausted body survive today?
He didn’t know. But he’d try—not with desperate resolve, but with fierce hope to protect his future. To Challenge this merciless fate with every shred of his being.
The tireless Demon Swordwomen would soon find him. Escape was impossible now. Instead, Midi closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and sought final preparation—to meet death in his best possible state.
To seize that sliver of hope.
Yet the moment he sank into deep meditation, an illusion trapped him.
Below yawned an Endless Abyss vomiting Black Flames reeking of sulfuric aura. Above stretched an azure firmament showering holy white icy fragments. Light and Shadow, ice and fire, heaven’s brilliance clashing with Demon Realm’s inferno—two opposing powers consuming each other like colliding worlds.
Where light and darkness met hovered an unsheathed greatsword.
Midi’s Sword of the Demon God.
Unlike its form during transmutation, the blade had transformed through endless battles, having Consumed countless enemies’ aura and magic. Now enormous, its surface bore intricate patterns while cold power seeped forth, freezing the air. The Sword Edge’s glacial gleam inspired primal dread.
The blade hung motionless—the world’s axis.
Then it awoke.
A clear ring echoed as the sword shuddered violently.
Three days of flight had drained Midi completely—magic depleted, aura faint, Physical Strength and Mental Energy at their nadir. His hollow body couldn’t resist the sword’s tremor; it flooded him unchecked.
Yet this resonance sparked something new.
Limits shattered.
Magic surged. Aura erupted. Strength and energy regenerated wildly.
But Midi couldn’t control this power. His will watched helplessly as currents of energy swirled into a Gigantic Vortex—a pillar bridging heaven’s radiance and hellfire. Magic, aura, stamina, spirit, even his Soul’s essence were crushed and fused within this maelstrom, reshaping his very being.
Mysterious power of the demon god, the potential for super transmutation, the fighting spirit ignited by death’s threat, the desperate will to survive, unshakable resolve, and the hunger for reincarnation…
All converged within Midi at that moment, centered around the icy Sword of the Demon God.
Rippling waves pulsed relentlessly like a Behemoth’s breathing, shaking the entire space. With each pulse, countless elements shattered before being filtered, purified, and reforged.
Amid the clear sword’s chime and surging waves, even Midi’s own will began crumbling.
The vortex hungered like a black hole – devouring all resolve, erasing identity, leaving only raw power.
Suddenly Midi felt crushing pressure, as if mountains piled upon his skull to choke, subjugate, and obliterate his self.
Yet mere mountain-weight couldn’t break this man.
He was a reincarnator bearing twenty years’ combat experience, having swallowed despair and cheated death. In this life he’d sworn to defy cruel fate. His shoulders carried not just his own destiny, but beloved Fina and Alice’s futures, the Asreks family’s honor, and the hopes of thousands in his domain!
When the power vortex demanded Midi’s submission, his answer burned clear –
I’ll dominate you!
Flames of resolve lit Midi’s eyes. He plunged like a meteor into the vortex’s heart. The swirling maelstrom froze momentarily… then spiraled wildly with redoubled fury!
Instantly, this world of Light and Shadow birthed an all-devouring storm.
While Midi pushed past his limits, real-world time flowed onward.
Three Demon Swordwomen scoured the forest when suddenly – their heads snapped upward. A force wave rolled through them, chilling their battle-hardened flesh. Most perplexing was its nature – neither magic wave nor holy light’s pulse, neither martial aura nor demonic chill. This power rejected all Attributes, radiating pure neutrality.
The source shone clearly.
Combat stances clicked into place. From three angles they charged, encircling their three-day quarry.
There sat Midi, shockingly vulnerable – cross-legged on dead leaves, eyes shut, pale skin flickering with sickly crimson streaks.
"Opportunity!" whispered admiration.
Wiseman Newton materialized. This genius Necromancer outclassed the Swordwomen completely. Midi’s strange power fluctuations intrigued him.
"The brat leveled up," Wiseman lectured airily. "Had some epiphany too, judging by this ruckus. Pity – even reaching level 30 won’t save him now." His fingers snapped crisply. "Take him alive!"
Three blades unsheathed simultaneously as the women lunged.
Midi’s eyes opened.
Silver Cold Flame blazed in his pupils!
His gaze swept the attackers. The emotionless Swordwomen froze mid-charge.
Still seated, Midi flicked his sword.
A razor gale exploded. Wiseman’s robe whipped violently as leaves shredded into swirling confetti. Invisible force hammered the women, sending them hurtling backwards like kites with severed strings, blood arcing through air.
Long after Midi sheathed his blade, the Fierce Wind howled.
Wiseman stood paralyzed.
"What…is this?" The carefree Necromancer’s voice held uncharacteristic gravity.
"Extreme Swordsmanship." Midi’s reply came lightly, his utterly calm gaze unwavering.
Dead leaves spiraled down. With wooden snaps, a dozen towering trees around Wiseman toppled, trunks sheared cleanly at mid-height.
