Rivers of the Night - Chapter 671

Chapter 671: Sigh

Theron’s roar peeled through the skies, his hair dancing wildly. Strands of illusory Mana seemed to dance within it, some of them flashing with lightning, and others becoming gales of wind so thick and strong that they looked real and tangible.

In that moment, it was the truest mane that Theron had ever formed. His hair wasn’t hair any longer; it looked like the breadth of the heavens, carrying the moon and stars, the clouds and thunder, the vastness of space and the depths of the ocean.

All of the fatigue on his expression vanished as though he had opened himself up to the world.

His Cores churned, and his Mana was seamlessly passed between them and his soul and then back again as though there was no difference.

A question he had been hearing ever since his youth echoed in his mind:

Was Mana Life?

Was Mana Power?

Right now, it felt like the first was truly the more likely of the two. How else could Mana help restore a soul to this extent?

Feeling the state of a True Cloud Mancy Soul, Theron began to understand why it was that cultivators only dared to start experimenting with their souls after reaching this realm.

His lifespan increased by a factor of ten, and he felt that if his body were to be destroyed, his soul would exist for a long while alone before it too dissipated.

And if he were to damage his soul severely, so long as he was given time and enough Mana…

The possibility of recovery was more than well in the cards.

And if it was just a matter of a little fatigue?

Theron exhaled a breath, steaming plumes of fog that sparked spontaneously into tendrils of Mana emitting from the corners of his mouth.

His grip on his blades tightened for a moment before loosening, and at that moment, despite his smaller stature, he felt like a looming mountain that had stood the test of time.

The twins had barely managed to escape the radius of the destruction, their pupils trembling in fear.

Orin didn’t have the slightest bit of competitive spirit left in him. Ever since Theron exchanged the first few blows with his master, he knew they weren’t even on the same playing field, let alone now.

Lyrah was holding her daughter tightly to her chest, but right this moment, she seemed to even forget about Lyra’s existence, her eyes opened so wide she could hardly fathom what she was seeing right before her.

Did Theron just…

“Did you just… break into the Dome of Heaven Realm?” Melani’s eyes widened in shock, pulling on the strength in her body until she managed to stand straight and tall.

However, Kempe wasn’t nearly so lucky. He had been forced back onto his knees, his palms pressing against theground hard as he tried to save his nose from suffering the same fate.

Of them all, only Macie seemed to be immune, but some clarity had also returned to her eyes, as though she could feel that something wasn’t safe here any longer.

This Theron… was on another level.

Theron didn’t even bother to reply.

He took a step, his speed not changing in the slightest, and yet it somehow felt as though the world warped around him to make him faster.

Melani’s eyes opened wide, and she hurried to block with her white steel sword, a silky cloth of violet danced on the hilt, gliding through the air with a sharp elegance.

But she missed.

Her sword struck through an afterimage, her eyes slow to adjust to the fact Theron had casually tilted his head out of the way.

She tried to gather her Mana out of habit, only to realize that the Dagger Call Platform was still there. Not only was it still there, but it was orders of magnitude stronger now than it had been before.

Pulling hard, she twisted her body, a blow that rocked her gliding along the faint edges of the sheet of ice she had put up to protect herself.

Pain burst along her side, but Theron didn’t successfully cut through. Yet, it didn’t seem to matter in the slightest.

Suddenly, Theron’s reaction time wasn’t the one that was suffering anymore. He saw three, four, five steps ahead, his body moving slower, and yet far more controlled than Melani.

The gap in close combat skill was quickly becoming apparent.

Melani’s sword was practically an ornament. Theron’s blades were his life.

He bobbed and weaved, mixed feints and cuts as seamlessly as he approached and retreated.

It didn’t feel like he was trying to end the battle quickly, and yet Melani was continuously being backed into a smaller and smaller corner.

Cuts appeared across her fair cheeks, her robes were torn, the armor of ice she had formed was being cracked again, and again, and again.

It was little more than illusion. If Theron could have ended the battle in a single strike, he would have. However, the mere appearance that he could have done so was like an oppressive might pressing down on Melani’s shoulders.

It whispered to her that she was inferior, that Theron was the predator and she was the prey, that when the mane of a lion was dancing, its maw open in a roar, his claws slicing down…

The only thing you could do was lay down and die.

Theron’s eyes flashed with a naked brilliance, plumes of icy blue practically beaming across the chilled lands.

The ghosts couldn’t touch him, Mana obeyed his every call, his blades moved faster and faster with a sharpness that split even the clouds far above, despite them not even remotely being his target.

Power, control, relentless drive, and suffocation. He embodied it all, and as he slashed out—

BOOM!

—He brought a Dome of Heaven expert to her knees.

Theron drove a knee upward, crashing right into Melani’s nose and practically peeling her neck back from her shoulders.

There, its fair skin exposed to the air, he slashed.

A sigh echoed through the air.