Book 7, Chapter 8


“They might not be enough alone. Should I go put some pressure on Richard myself?”

“It’s best you don’t. In fact, we might have to try and help Richard if his life is under threat. Don’t forget who his master is.”

Thor and the old mage were watching as the mob gathered from the Mage Association building, the latter looking quite excited, “But Her Excellency should be asleep. This is our chance…”

“Is it?” Thor smiled bitterly, “And what about when she wakes up in the future? You know she is famous for her divination; if she finds out that Richard died and we helped or even just watched on, we will bear the brunt of her rage.”

“But if Richard has to survive, my own death is looking more and more likely. The blue moonforce isn’t fading away,” the old legendary mage sighed.

“Well…” Thor sank into thought, stroking his long beard as he returned his attention to the square.


Richard held out a hand, and the Shepherd of Eternal Rest flew from Waterflower’s sheath to his hand. He then pointed to a few rune knights nearby and their swords did the same; in the blink of an eye, he had more than half a dozen swords. He then pointed to the teleportation temple, “Go back to the island. Waterflower, you too.”

The rune knights could hardly believe their ears, the scarred leader immediately asking, “My Lord, what about you?”

Richard glanced at the crowd in the square and flashed a disdainful smile, “I'm going to stay behind and test the skills of these saints.”

The knight immediately flashed a bloodthirsty smile of his own, licking his lower lip, “You go, we'll take care of them. I swear to you that these fuckers will piss their pants at the Archeron name in the future!”

“I said go!” Richard waved his hand as he exchanged a glance with Waterflower, “That's an order!”

Having made himself clear, he jumped off his mount and walked to the centre of the square, thrusting the swords into the ground one by one. A simple touch to his sword case launched his own three blades out, and they joined the rest. Standing in the middle of it all, he looked at the hundreds of warriors around him, “You want the blue moon, don't you? Then all you saints step up to die. If you haven't even reached sainthood, don't waste my time.”

For a time, the small square went silent, the hundreds of warriors holding the breath. A lone Richard still managed to overwhelm them, but he was the one with the blue moon. With no reason to chase after the rune knights, they let them leave and surrounded the small square further. Everyone had their eyes on the saints.

Most people capable of entering sainthood had a certain amount of dignity. They could be shameless in some occasions, but in front of such a large crowd where they were known they would act as noble as they could. Richard’s words were a slap in the face that left them burning, but they had already heard of how a decently powerful saint had been killed in one blow.

Going up alone was death, but grouping up was no good either. It might have been alright to do so in another situation, but there were just too many eyes here. Any victory they achieved would be hollow, and the victors would only be shamed instead of praised. Even worse, this was the capital of the Alliance; there were diplomats from the other empires here at all times.

Everyone wanted the blue moon, but nobody was willing to step up. Richard waited quietly, not minding at all. All of the rune knights disappeared into the teleportation temple, and Waterflower left with them. His direct orders could never be disobeyed. Thus, he was the only one in this small square facing half of the powerful warriors of Faust; all the eyes of the city were looking at him.

Eventually, a rather large man stepped up to the task. His equipment didn’t seem all that special, but there was a legendary sword at his waist. His beard was messy and unkempt, but a fierce light was shining in the depths of his eyes. Looking Richard in the eye, the man slowly stretched his body and erupted with a mountainous aura, standing half a fold taller when he was completely straight. He immediately became the centre of attention, making Richard look like a weak child.

The man grinned from ear to ear, “My name is Atlas, people consider me a sky saint. I don’t know if that’s true, but I want a good fight with you today. I don’t give a shit about the blue moon or whatever, just to see who’s better. Be careful, I won’t be holding back.”

Richard just stared blankly in response, “Don’t care. Step up to fight me and there’s only one result; you die.”

Atlas frowned a little before laughing, “What, you’re invincible under the legendary realm or something?”

“Yes,” Richard said blandly.

Everyone present immediately went quiet, Atlas’s laughter coming to a halt as well. He pulled the legendary sword from its sheath and shouted, “Ballsy. Let’s see if it’s true.”

The enormous man screamed and shot forward, space starting to crack around him as he chopped down with the greatsword like it was an axe. He condensed as much power as he could into one strike; his strengths were explosiveness and speed, and he planned to leverage them to the fullest. 

When Richard moved, there seemed to be an infinite number of him in the square as he left a thousand afterimages behind. Everyone followed him pull two swords from the ground, one blocking Atlas’s blade and the other sweeping straight up his body from below. He then took a step back, putting the white-hot swords back into the ground.

Everything was clear, but it was also suffocating. By the time the crowd could follow Richard’s actions, Atlas was frozen in place. Only the most perceptive of them all realised that Richard had been so fast they couldn’t even react, but his moves were still imprinted into their minds. The only explanation for this was a soul-related power. Richard was so strong that he had shown off to the audience in the midst of killing a sky saint.

Slowly recovering from his stunned state, Atlas smiled bitterly, “Sure enough… Invincible… under the legendary realm…”

As he finished these last words, a shocking red line emerged on his body and started smoking as he fell backwards, falling with a thud. The audience was stunned silent, a number of eyes drawn to him. Even the weakest of warriors present had felt his horrifying momentum, and even saints blanked out at his might.

In the top floor of the Mage Association, in the upper levels of a large hall, and on many of the floating islands, several legendary beings held their breath at the same time.


Within a hotel overlooking the small square, a group of rather imposing figures were standing at the windows of a large room watching the show. There was no lack of saints amongst them, but they all lost their voice.

An ordinary-looking youth in the middle of them all smiled softly and broke the silence with his pleasant voice, “I didn’t expect someone of such calibre in the Sacred Alliance. Thankfully they’re still ruffians who turned out to be like this for a single blue moon. The so-called fourteen really are incapable of doing anything; just a bunch of short-sighted fools.”

Another middle-aged man with sharp eyes spoke up, “Is this not our chance. This is a grand runemaster, we might be able to pull him over.”

The youth shook his head, “People like him have their own principles. He’ll come to us if he wants to, but there’s nothing we can do to convince him if he doesn’t. Such a pity, but at least there’s another opportunity… Anyway, let’s go.”


Within the square, another body had just fallen in front of Richard. Provoked by a few people around him, a saint without good judgement had charged out and gotten his throat stabbed before he could even draw his weapon. The death had been so fast that the onlookers couldn’t even process it.

After a minute of stunned silence, many people began exchanging glances. After a few moments of non-verbal communication, three saints stepped forward.

"Finally growing shameless, huh?" Richard smirked. More blue flames flashed, and even as his lips turned crimson the three saints were reduced to charred corpses on the ground. The onlookers were stunned, more saints preparing to move. Three weren't enough, but what about thirty? At this point, failing to kill Richard would lead to their own deaths in the future.

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OMA's Thoughts

Translated By: OMA

Edited By: Theo

TLC'ed By: OMA