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Book 11: Chapter 47: Curious (1)

The Diety Race Overlord bounded toward Madeleine.

“Hey, who said you were fighting my wife?” Dyon asked with a light smile.

Before the Deity Race Overlord could react Dyon had appeared before him in a flash, catching him completely off guard.

In the mind of the Deity Race Overlord, even the strongest Peak Dao Experts throughout history were only as powerful as Fallen at best. How could he ever guess that Dyon could leap not just that half realm, but three realms even surpassing it?!

BOOM!

A palm and wing collided, but while the Deity Race Overlord remained at its position, Dyon was forced to take several steps backward in the air.

Despite the result, though, it was the Deity Race Overlord with the apprehensive expression.

Dyon shook his hand as though massaging some wrist pain away.

“Is it just you?” Dyon asked curiously. “Because if so, this will be much more boring than I thought.”

Even as Dyon spoke, the Mortal Army below launched their assault. With an Overlord in Madeleine leading the way, those below the Overlord Realm were nothing but fodder.

Dyon was no longer in a state where he had to worry about numbers. In the past, he would be thinking of ways to assimilate the Deities into his army. But, the current him couldn’t be bothered to care. Why rely on others when his Mortal Empire citizens had grown to such a level?

Everywhere Dyon looked on the battlefield, there was yet another talent shining through.

Aoife and Stella were like a pair of devilish beauties, one wreathed in blue and red flames, the other with beautiful white horns that gave her an exotic appeal.

Under the lead of their husband and Dyon’s god son Sarid, they headed the Mino and Belmont armies with a smile on their faces, mowing down swaths of Deities and making a mockery of their race’s moniker.

Sarid himself swung two massive battle axes twice the size of his own body. His deep brown skin glistened with sweat and blood, but the latter wasn’t his own. Every swing seemed to create the illusion of a crescent moon, juxtaposing a gorgeous sight with bloody murder.

On another side of the battlefield Dyon three disciples were making him proud. He had worked them to the bone over the last near century, but the results showed for themselves.

Braham’s bodily strength was beyond reason. Having becoming a Supreme, he was of course pursuing the path of becoming a body facet Overlord. Unfortunately, his master forbade him breaking through until he first became a soul facet Overlord.

It seemed that with his every move, he was taking out the frustration he couldn’t take out on Dyon upon the golden skinned enemies before him. His fists carried the strength of worlds, shaking the very ground they stood upon with every sure connection.

Pjisel’s battle style was much less straight forward. In fact, he looked nothing like his real self.

His skin was tinted with gold, metallic wings graced his back, and his expression became just as cold as emotionless as the Deities.

He suddenly understood all of their strengths and weaknesses in an instant.

They were exceptionally calculative, their thinking speed being several times that of normal humans. In addition, it wasn’t that they just looked like robots, but they were in fact cyborgs in part. Of course, this wasn’t in the sense that they had circuitry, but rather in that they had absorbed all sorts of ores into themselves to strengthen their bodies!

The metallic sounds of their wings wasn’t just for show, they were the product of several years of tempering and were the pride of each Deity Race person.

However, their flaws were glaring as well. Despite their intelligence, their comprehension skills were severely lacking due to their lack of flexibility. They didn’t comprehend artistry and feeling, so they attempted to comprehend everything based on cold hard logic and evidence, but unfortunately, not everything in existence could be described in such a way.

This was likely the flaw that stopped the Deity Race from becoming the 13^th Overlord Clan. Their souls and comprehension were simply far too lacking. As a result, birthing a three facet Overlord was next to impossible for them despite the fact they cultivated much faster than other races.

‘If that’s the case, I know how to defeat you.’

Pjisel’s body shifted its shape once more. His visage became as calm as a lake, a vertical eye appearing upon his forehead as he began to hum silent hymns.

The Deity Race warrior he faced suddenly trembled.

“Impossible! They’re extinct… They’re extinct…”

Just like that, his vision blurred and his consciousness faded.

“Haha! Braham, Bowaye, I’ll definitely win this time!”

Pjisel’s two junior brothers looked over to find a sight that had them shaking their heads. Since when had this mighty Deity Race become no different from soft grass? Every single one that stepped within 5 meters of Pjisel fell to their deaths, completely oblivious.

Bowaye grit his teeth in rage. “Dammit! You dare play with ores before an Earthen Sprite?! Just you wait Pjisel, this contest isn’t over yet!”

The usually calm and amiable Bowaye became a raging war machine, his hands tearing apart deity race member after deity race member. If one looked closely, you could see their Ores being ripped from their bodies, their faces contorting in terrible pain as they fell one after another…