Chapter 147

Chapter 147: Demon God Roar

After perfectly merging with the mighty mysterious demon god, Midi had often suppressed opponents of the same profession in past battles using this power, securing effortless victories.

Now, the tables had turned.

The Kazan curse—one of the origins of demon gods—was wielded by the God of Destruction’s chosen, who knew how to counter it.

Hit by countless needle-like red beams, Midi felt his physical form pierced. The demon god power within him froze under the rays’ grip.

Inside his body, the icy greatsword formed by the demon god was now bound by invasive red threads. These snake-like coils tightened relentlessly, crushing like a giant python strangling its prey.

Sparks flew where red lines met the sword, screeching like grinding metal. Midi’s body had become a deadly battlefield.

Worse, while the demon god wrestled with the red light, Midi’s own strength plummeted.

A Demon Swordman’s power stemmed from their demon god. Without it, Midi—still below level 40—was just a “strong ordinary guy.” His sharp reaction speed, keen senses, and robust physique remained, but his skills vanished.

Human strength couldn’t be focused instantly. A regular sword strike used only arm power. Even skilled swordsmanship channeled leg and waist force, never the full body’s might.

Yet skills like “Demon Slash” merged total bodily power through demon god energy and magic. This was why adventurers surpassed soldiers of equal level—and why Midi built the adventurer-only Hawk Brigade.

Levels and physical attributes were basics. Skills and magic let humans fight mutated monsters and greater threats.

Now, trapped by red light, Midi was ordinary.

“Your demon god resists? How many do you harbor?” The old man in black robe hid his shock.

His red rays were pure curse manifestations. Most demon gods originated from Kazan’s power, making the rays their natural predator—sharper, attack-focused, and unstoppable.

Normally, red rays stripped any Demon Swordman of their power. Yet Midi’s demon god fought back, and he still defended. Unprecedented.

But the old man reconsidered. Midi Asreks was no ordinary swordsman—a genius rising like a comet in a year. His demon god must be unique.

Once captured, with Belmar Duchy under control, there’d be ample time to dissect this mystery.

The old man smirked, leaping skyward. He became a thin, razor-edged shadow, diving like a hawk, blood-red fangs gleaming.

Simultaneously, the bat swarm blazed crimson. The red rays binding Midi’s demon god intensified.

Attacking host and demon god at once—the old man doubted this level 30 youngster could survive.

Midi grunted, clumsily ducking and rolling.

The old man’s shadow skimmed over Midi’s head. A millisecond slower, and Midi would’ve lost it.

But this was only the first strike.

The old man in the black robe halted mid-air with impossible agility, spinning like a boomerang to lunge at Midi again.

Normally, Midi could’ve dodged effortlessly using his "Demon Shadow Step", even counterattacking with the advanced "Demon Shadow Flash" to seize initiative. But now, his sealed skills left him unable to perform two evasions in this brief instant.

The vampire’s fangs gleamed inches from Midi’s face.

No escape. So Midi stopped trying.

When blades failed, he used the hilt.

Midi twisted his longsword in mid-swing, pouring strength from heels to waist, waist to shoulders, shoulders to arm. Speed and momentum fused into the heavy hilt that smashed against the vampire’s chest like a blacksmith’s hammer!

They passed each other in that frozen moment.

The vampire’s chest cratered beneath the blow – yet he grinned as shattered ribs and collapsed lungs regenerated before their eyes.

Midi knelt gasping, four bloody holes weeping through his breastplate.

The vampire’s basic blood absorption skill struck true. Though Midi’s vaccine prevented infection, crimson energy flooded his veins through those wounds.

Red rays coiled around the Sword of the Demon God manifestation like strangling silk, draining Midi’s power with every heartbeat. The black-haired boy’s paling face and ragged breaths told the vampire everything – victory was certain.

Midi Asreks would die here. Through this pawn, the Hawk Brigade would kneel, then the Belmar Duchy would become Pretenders’ haven. Soon, all Arad continent would bow-

The vampire’s triumph died unspoken as he missed the steel-bright glint in Midi’s eyes.

Hope still burned.

Sealed demon god powers and mortal strength couldn’t match this demon-blooded foe. But Midi held a third trump card.

Ultimate Intent.

Red rays shackled gods, not this. Every desperate parry, every bleeding wound bought time to gather that sliver of transcendent will.

Now, prepared.

Silver radiance showered from the firmament.

Abyssal flames boiled upward in crimson answer.

Within Midi, blade-sharp energy fell from high skies – faster, fiercer – aimed at red chains binding the demon sword. Ultimate Intent sheared through restraining rays like hot wire through wax, severed ends bursting into dark fire that consumed everything.

The Ultimate Intent cyclone danced – soaring eagle, crashing waterfall – shredding every crimson thread.

As final bonds snapped, the Sword of the Demon God rang like a massive bell, vibrations shaking Midi’s inner world. Drawn by the resonance, the Ultimate Intent stream plunged into the blade.

Two became one.

Demon god and Ultimate Intent fused beyond separation – neither consumed nor subjugated, simply united. The sword’s world-shaking roar atomized every invading red ray, then burst outward.

Bat swarms disintegrated in midair, raining gore.

"What?!" The vampire stared at his shattered forces, supreme weapon ash on the wind. No fear yet – only shock.

Then Midi looked up.

Black eyes flashed lightning-bright, their glare illuminating the entire hall.