Carnage Requiem: The Maniacs vs. the hoarde part 2(Blood+++)

Cling!

Cling!

Cling!

Sparks filled the battlefield as weapons collided and clashed among the demonic cultivators and descendants of the Demiurge clan, the Grand Canyon was filled blood and bodies of both sides making the death battle even more tense.

"ARGGHHHH!!! Orthodox cultivators my ass us demonic cultivators have integri.." As a demonic cultivator tried to complain a tip of a great sword entered her back killing her instantly, Uriel emerged from her back, looked at the body briefly and continued to charge forward

Her Slashes were swiftly cutting down any demonic cultivators who obstructed her path, their bodies were like tofu to her sword and strength despite on being on the same level

'So this is what the instructor meant,' Uriel concluded as the realization settled. 'A person with cultivation base X may be weaker than one with cultivation base Y, but the one with cultivation base X may beat the one with cultivation base Y if the right conditions are met.

In my case, my body has received strong tempering, making me vastly stronger than those in the same stage'

She continued to swing her greatsword, her focus unwavering. Her gaze shifted slightly to the side, observing Azrael as she maintained her rhythm.

Crescent blades clashed with swords, cutting down demonic cultivators with chilling indifference. But what truly terrified Uriel wasn't the brutality of the battle—it was Azrael.

His eyes glowed with an intensity she had never seen before, alive with a hunger that seemed to thrive on the bloodlust surrounding him.

His smile was even more unsettling, a twisted expression of satisfaction that made her stomach churn. And he wasn't the only one.

The other descendants carried the same unsettling aura, their movements sharp, their faces grinning with joy.

For a brief moment, Uriel's hand brushed her lips and Her heart sank as she felt a grin on her face.

Suppressing the disturbing realization, she steeled herself, ignoring the odd phenomenon as she pressed forward, her blade carving a path through the chaos.

"AGHHHH!!! You guys are more demonic than us! Aren't you supposed to retrieve the flag? Why are you hunting us down like a sport, No... you're pure evil!" A demonic cultivator screamed, her voice cracking as she stumbled and tried to flee.

A crescent blade shot through her chest, tearing through bone and heart before yanking her back toward Azrael like prey dragged to a predator.

Azrael caught her by the throat, his grip merciless, his warm, glowing eyes piercing into hers as she gasped for air.

"If you've taken a life, you've already surrendered your own," he said, his tone calm and hollow. "There is no good, no bad only the weight of survival. It's either you or me, and I will always choose myself."

With a brutal twist, he drove the crescent blade deeper, then let her lifeless body crumple to the ground without a second glance.

Retrieving his weapon, he moved forward, leaving nothing but bodies in his wake.

.....

Cling!

Cling!

Cling!

"FWUAAA!!! Not bad for mere descendants of Bra... what is that feeling? DANGER!" A robust demonic cultivator immediately dropped to his knees, raising his sword to protect his neck.

A crescent blade collided with his sword with bone-rattling force. His eyes widened as he glanced backward and saw Azrael, relentlessly pressing the crescent blade against his sword, the pressure increasing with each passing second.

With a snarl, the demonic cultivator gritted his teeth and summoned all his strength, raising his sword with explosive force, pushing Azrael backward.

"HOW DARE YO—"

"Ahhh, I'll deal with you in a moment," Azrael cut in, his voice calm yet dismissive. His sharp eyes scanned the opponent before him. "This one's at mid 3rd stage of the Body Tempering Realm. Aim for the weaker ones while assisting my sister and Teng," he said, gesturing for his clansmen to leave.

As they obeyed, Azrael's attention shifted fully to the demonic cultivator.

"Heh! My name is Gin Zumo, the Blood Tyr—"

"Zumo?" Azrael interrupted, his brow furrowing. "You mean the Zumo clan, one of the six great clans? What is someone like you doing here? A member of an orthodox clan mingling in the Ebonhold...it doesn't make sense."

Gin smirked, though irritation flickered in his eyes. "You're quite rude. But since we're bound to fight to the death, allow me to properly introduce myself. Despite being 25 years of age—"

"DAMN!" Azrael exclaimed, cutting him off again with a theatrical sigh. "You look like you're pushing fifty, and you're trying to tell me otherwise? That's just embarrassing. You're a failure."

Gin's expression darkened, anger flaring. "IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I WAS BORN WITH MORTAL-GRADE SPIRITUAL ROOTS AND A SMALL DANTIAN! I HAD TO BECOME A DEMONIC CULTIVATOR TO SURVIVE!"

"Ah, the classic excuse," Azrael replied, his tone dripping with disdain. "Blame your fate, your circumstances, anyone but yourself. As if someone forced you onto this path.

Back in the day, fathers had 3–4 kids. Now, it seems kids have 3–4 fathers. And if yours failed you, allow me to step in and teach you a lesson on their behalf."

Gin's face contorted with rage, his voice trembling. "Y-YOU! ARE YOU CALLING MY MOTHER A HARLOT"

"Of course not," Azrael interrupted with a dismissive wave. "But if she were like mine, you wouldn't be such a disappointment. Yet here we are—living proof of failure."

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!" Gin roared, launching himself forward in a blind fury.

Azrael met him mid-charge with a brutal dropkick, slamming into his chest and sending him hurtling backward.

As Gin struggled in midair, Azrael spun his crescent blades, the chains snaking out and coiling around Gin's body.

With a sharp pull, Azrael dragged him back down and slammed him into the ground with devastating force, leaving Gin gasping for breath as the earth cracked beneath him.

"You!... ARE YOU COURTING DEATH?" Gin rose from the ground, eyes full of fury. He began to channel Qi from his Dantian into his body and sword, raising his odds of winning.

Azrael did the same, releasing his own Qi with a steady, suffocating spiritual pressure that descended upon Gin like an unrelenting weight.

"At such a young impossible" Gin murmured as chills were sent down to his spine as he felt the density of Azrael's Qi.

Gin's Qi was like a sudden burst of flame—intense and powerful, but brief.

He released it all at once, and it quickly burned through his reserves. At first, their outputs were the same, both unleashing their Qi simultaneously.

But as time passed, Azrael's Qi grew stronger and stronger, its slow, steady rise outpacing Gin's rapidly burning Qi.

Azrael's Qi was denser, more complex, and steadily building in power.

Gin felt the disparity immediately. His Dantian was smaller, his reserves limited, and the Ebenhold only worsened his situation. He knew he had to act fast—if he didn't eliminate Azrael, he wouldn't survive.

Cling!!!

"What is that?"

"How can they be so fast? I can only see afterimages and sparks from their clashes!"

"ARGGHHHH!!!"

The surrounding cultivators froze, watching the brutal battle unfold between Azrael and Gin, what many they witnessed was beyond their comprehension.

As many tried to flee, they were caught in the crossfire of the merciless fight.

Azrael fought Gin while eliminating other demonic cultivators and protecting his clansmen. The ease with which he handled it infuriated Gin, who felt utterly disrespected.

"YO... ARGGHHHH!!!!" Gin screamed in agony as the crescent blades severed both his middle fingers in an instant.

Azrael's tone was mockingly apologetic. "I'm sorry about that. I was aiming for your arms, but I missed... Let's fix that."

Gin's face twisted with terror, and he staggered back, but his body was already too weak. His voice quivered with desperation.

"Please! Spare me! WAAHHH!!!" Tears poured from his eyes as he begged, his fear intensifying as he saw the crescent blades glow, charged with an immense surge of Qi.

Azrael's voice was chillingly calm. "Nah"

Shwing!

The crescent blades sliced through Gin's body in a flurry of strikes. Tendons, eyes, hair, and limbs were severed with precision, leaving him unable to defend himself. His body fell apart with each slash, his screams choked by the overwhelming pain and blood.

The crescent blades, exhausted from the barrage of strikes, shattered into fragments, and Azrael sighed as he watched them fall. "A mortal-grade weapon... not surprising."

He stepped over Gin's broken form, ignoring the blood pooling around him, and picked up Gin's sword to finish the job.

Gin, barely conscious and desperate, cried out through his tears, "I swear to God, I'll change! I'll do anything!"

Azrael stopped, looking down at him with warm eyes full of sympathy"I told you, I'm teaching you a lesson on their behalf and Don't swear to God Swear to me."