Chapter 383: Nathan vs mercenaries

“…Then I’ll bury it with the rubble.”

Nathan’s sword arm twitched slightly.

He was done waiting.

He was going to blow the entire lighthouse to pieces.

Nathan summoned his dark magic.

It coursed through his veins like a shadowy tide, wrapping his limbs in a shroud of pulsing black energy. The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly under the weight of the mana he exuded. This was the most efficient path forward—unleash the darkness and end this swiftly.

But just as he advanced, something unseen pushed against him.

Nathan’s body rebounded sharply, crashing into an invisible wall of force. He slid back a few feet, his boots scraping against the stone floor. His white hair fluttered slightly as he came to a halt, narrowing his gaze.

“Odin’s Eye,” he murmured.

Activating the divine perception, a shimmering dome revealed itself—transparent to the ordinary eye, but to Nathan, it flickered like oil on water, a layered defense of mana and ancient inscriptions. A barrier. Of course. It would have been foolish to think he could just walk in unchallenged.

But that wasn’t all.

From within the confines of the barrier, shadows moved.

Suddenly, figures erupted outward—leaping, gliding, floating. In a blur of motion, they surrounded Nathan. Some stood with blades drawn, others levitated with eerie grace, encircling him completely.

Within seconds, he was boxed in.

A dozen men and women in matching gear—leather and plated armor etched with bronze filigree—closed in. Nathan immediately noticed the emblem stitched to their cloaks and pauldrons: the golden ankh of the Pharaoh.

One of them stepped forward. He stood taller than the rest, not in sheer size, but in presence. His aura rippled with raw, dense mana—almost like it weighed the air around him. His eyes locked onto Nathan with the calculating calm of a predator.

“So this is your face, Septimius, huh?” the man said, his voice deep and tinted with amusement.

He wasn’t like the others. His confidence wasn’t bravado—it was earned. He moved with the quiet assurance of someone used to standing above others.

“You’re just a baby, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

The rest laughed along, their voices echoing through the enclosed space.

“I can’t believe I used to take orders from a kid.”

“He looked terrifying behind that mask, but without it? He’s barely threatening.”

“Right? Now that his ‘status’ isn’t shielding him, we can finally give him the beating he deserves.”

“I always knew it—just a brat in a costume.”

The taunts came one after another, as if rehearsed.

Nathan stood silent amid the storm of mockery. His hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, knuckles whitening. A faint hum of dark mana crackled around his figure like a restrained storm.

“You talk too much,” Nathan said, his voice cold and unwavering. “If you want a fight, stop whining and draw your weapons.”

“Salvius, what are we waiting for?” one of the mercenaries asked, turning to the man in charge.

Salvius.

So that was the name of their leader.

The man’s gaze didn’t waver from Nathan. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in fear, but in anticipation.

“You disappoint me,” Salvius said flatly. “Did you forget why you used to be so afraid of me?”

Nathan didn’t flinch.

“I don’t remember ever being scared of someone like you,” he replied.

And then he vanished.

In the blink of an eye, Nathan reappeared directly in front of Salvius. The movement was so fast, it left behind a flickering afterimage.

BADAM!

A thunderous sound echoed as Nathan’s foot drove hard into Salvius’s abdomen.

The man’s body folded in on itself, eyes widening as blood burst from his mouth. The impact launched him like a missile, hurling him backward. He crashed violently into the ground, carving a trench in the earth before coming to a stop, groaning.

Silence fell.

The others stood frozen, their eyes wide, their bodies unmoving.

What just happened?

It had occurred in the blink of an eye—so fast, so precise, they couldn’t even register the moment Nathan vanished, let alone the devastating strike that sent Salvius crashing through the earth like a meteor.

It didn’t feel real.

Salvius groaned, dragging himself up from the crater he’d carved into the ground. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle—shattered by the sheer force of the kick. Every breath he took rattled his ribs, and pain crackled down his spine like lightning.

Still, he looked up.

Nathan stood unmoving, his white hair drifting in the cold breeze. His eyes—no longer hidden behind a mask—glowed with an unholy crimson. There was no warmth in them, only a hollow indifference… and judgment.

That stare alone was enough to make the mercenaries shudder.

They had once feared Nathan behind the anonymity of his mask. But this? This was something else entirely. Now that they could see the man beneath, they realized the mask hadn’t been hiding weakness—it had been containing something terrifying.

Salvius trembled, teeth gritted in disbelief.

He had mocked Septimius. Ridiculed him. Bullied him, even. He’d always assumed his rapid climb through the ranks was nothing but favoritism. Salvius had known he was stronger—at least, he thought he did.

So how…?

“Kill him!!” he roared, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.

The mercenaries snapped to action. Ten of them surged forward, blades raised, spells igniting at their fingertips. Fireballs danced, arrows flew, and swords shimmered with deadly enchantments.

But to Nathan… they were insects.

Since breaking past his limits, since crossing into the realm of the divine, anything below Ajax’s level barely registered as a threat. These men—these trained killers—were no different than ants trying to pierce a mountain.

Nathan’s gaze flicked across them, already calculating.

The first attacks came—blazing projectiles screaming through the air, a barrage of arrows trailing enchantments meant to pierce armor and bone. But Nathan didn’t flinch. With a single, elegant motion, he swung his sword.

Fwoooosh—CRACK!

A wave of cold erupted from his blade, sweeping forward in a crescent arc. The very air froze in its path. The fireballs fizzled and shattered mid-air, turned to brittle sparks. The arrows never made it. The freezing wave reached the archer before he could even react.

His expression froze—eyes wide in terror, lips parted mid-scream—as his entire body was engulfed in rime. His skin cracked. His limbs shattered. In an instant, he became a twisted, crystalline statue… then collapsed into jagged chunks of frozen flesh.

Nathan’s ice had evolved.

It was no longer just his own—it was Khione’s ice now. Divine cold, beyond natural laws. So intense that even if Nathan released someone from it afterward, they would still be dead. Their bodies simply couldn’t survive that absolute cold.

The others faltered for a heartbeat, stunned by the archer’s horrific end.

And that single hesitation sealed their fate.

Because Nathan was gone.

He appeared behind them, mid-swing—his blade already in motion.

BADOOM.

The impact wasn’t just a sound—it was a shockwave, a detonation of force. Flesh and steel tore apart in unison. Blood and broken armor rained down as the mercenaries were ripped apart by the slash of Nathan’s Demonic Sword.

Their bodies didn’t fall.

They exploded.

Chunks of crimson mist and shattered steel scattered in every direction. Bones were reduced to dust. Their screams never even had the chance to leave their throats.

Wielding the Demonic Sword against opponents this weak should have been unnecessary—overkill, even.

But Nathan wasn’t here to play.

He didn’t have the time or patience to entertain arrogant fools who thought they could measure up. He had no interest in toying with those whose lives held no weight in the grand scheme of things.

So, he made it quick.

“N–no… please—GAAAGHH!!”

“PLEASE!! NO—GHK!!”

Their screams were fleeting, barely formed before being silenced by death. One after another, Nathan cut them down with effortless swings. His movements were blurs—mercurial and absolute. Each strike cleaved through steel, flesh, and soul in the span of a single breath.

They died not as warriors, but as sheep before the slaughter.

The ground beneath him turned slick and red, a canvas of carnage. Torn bodies littered the dirt in heaps of crimson and gore, still twitching in their final moments. The metallic stench of blood, thick and suffocating, saturated the air.

And then… silence.

Nathan stood alone amidst the carnage, his blade dripping scarlet, the aura of death coiled around him like a second skin. His breathing was steady, unfazed. For him, it had been no different than cutting grass.

Without pause, he turned.

A faint sound—a shift of steel through wind—came from behind him.

Salvius, battered but desperate, charged at Nathan with a cry of rage and terror. His sword arced toward Nathan’s exposed head.

But Nathan didn’t flinch.

With one smooth, precise motion, he spun and swung.

Salvius’s sword—and the arm holding it—were severed in a flash. The limb hit the ground with a dull thud, blood spurting into the air in a wild arc.

“GRAAHHHH!!” Salvius howled, stumbling backward, clutching at the stump where his arm had been. His eyes bulged with disbelief, his teeth clenched in agony.

Nathan stared coldly at him.

“Weak,” he said.

Then he stepped forward and punched Salvius straight in the gut.

BADAM!!

The impact echoed like a drum of war. Bones snapped—every rib shattered at once. Salvius’s breath was violently forced from his lungs as his body crumpled inward, sent flying like a ragdoll. He crashed against the magical barrier surrounding the Pharaoh’s sanctum with enough force to create a spiderweb of cracks across the shimmering surface.

He would have slumped to the ground, broken and barely conscious.

But Nathan wasn’t done.

He appeared in front of Salvius in an instant, stepping out of shadow as if reality itself bent for him. His sword, black and pulsating with malevolent energy, plunged forward.

Straight into Salvius’s chest.

SCHLOCK—BOOOOOOM!!!

The Demonic Sword pierced through Salvius—and kept going, impaling him through the magical barrier behind. The barrier screeched, warping under the raw, violent surge of power channeled through the blade. Flames of black and crimson danced along its edge.

And then—

BADOOOOOOM!!!