A total of thirty-five cultists remained after the massacre. Nine of them had left the scene, willing to risk the Star’s displeasure. The remaining twenty-six, split into two groups. The clerics gathered around the inverted pyramid, creating a defensive ring. That was the logical part. Dallion assumed that if the Star was hurt enough, he’d aim to wear down any opponent before making an appearance himself.

The second group were the ambitious ones. Just like nobles who felt they deserved more, they charged at Dallion in as flashy fashion as possible. It was obvious they were showing off to gain the Star’s favor, probably thinking this would earn them the equivalent of a promotion within the ranks of the cult. If he had to deal with only a few of them things would have been perfect. Dealing with a dozen and a half, was a different matter.

Their coordination is rather good, Nil commented while the cultists landed attacks on Dallion.

A third were attacking while the remaining ones reacted to Dallion’s attempts to counterattack. Even with instances, Dallion was finding it difficult to keep up. There didn’t seem to be any clear-cut pattern, or firm roles. Sometimes a person would keep attacking for seconds, others they’d revert to defense after a single blow. Furthermore, they were smart enough not to use any combat splitting of their own.

Evading a double piercing attack, Dallion jumped back, then did another circular line attack.

Five cultists grouped together, negating the attack by simultaneously striking the thread of destruction with vertical strikes. As for the rest, they managed to evade what was left without receiving any damage. The only ones that suffered were the corpses that were scattered away like leaves.

One of the more eager cultists took advantage of the situation to immediately go on a counterattack. Creating a second blade of void matter, he dashed at Dallion, spinning like a top.

The first slash was forcefully parried, causing both Dallion and the attacker to move a step back. The second was a lot more aggressive, aiming for Dallion’s neck. This time, though, Dallion didn’t use his harpsisword. Relying on his superior speed and reflexes, he drew the Nox dagger then combat split and threw it right in the cultist’s torso. In most of the instances, the dagger was deflected. In two, though, it hit its target. Naturally, those two were the ones that mattered.

Falling to the ground, the cultist grasped his chest, as Nox spread through his body, tearing flesh and bone.

That’s one, Dallion thought. It was very likely the kill had earned the crackling a level, but there was no time to celebrate. The rest of the cultists jumped in, preventing Dallion from retrieving the weapon.

A trio attacked with high slashes aiming for Dallion’s head, while two more did a series of piercing strikes in an attempt to pin his legs to the ground. The attacks were flawless, but as any pampered noble, they made one unforgivable mistake: some of them were using their own weapons, instead of such made of void.

Slip and cut him! Dallion ordered, instilling thoughts of anger and rebellion into the item guardians. All of them were loyal to their masters, but even loyalty could be measured by a number, and Dallion’s music skills were highly developed.

Amid the attack, one of the blades slipped. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but enough to create a gap in the attack large enough for Dallion to complete a full guard sequence. The moment he did, all enemy actions slowed down.

Splendid, dear boy, Nil said. I was thinking you forgot how to use your guard skills adequately.

Just because I haven’t used something in a while doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. Dallion continued through the cat’s cradle of attacks, succeeding in creating a second sequence. It had been a while since he’d used that efficiently in battle, making him rusty. There was nothing like the threat of death to make him become inventive again, just like old times, as Nil would probably say.

The old echo had frequently said that for nobles, each battle is like a game of chess. It wasn’t just the current action, but the series of ones that followed. Not too long ago, Dallion believed to have mastered that skill, but he was deluding himself. The only thing was able to do was to predict the moves in some of his one-to-one battles. He had never strategized against multiple opponents at once, not to the level he needed to. His present opponents were the opposite: they had the training to do so, but not the skills.

As the attacker’s speed kept decreasing, Dallion slowly moved in the direction to body with his dagger. Several of the cultists moved to block his path, aware of what his priorities might be. Tendrils emerged from one, making their way towards him like dripping jelly.

Dallion was annoyed that he couldn’t retrieve his weapon, yet he also acknowledged that it also prevented a large part of his enemies from focusing on him. If they were so eager to guard the dagger, he might as well let them.

From the cultists’ perspective, Dallion suddenly appeared, piercing one of them with his blade. The single strike quickly turned into a multi-strike. One cultist died instantly. Two more received enough injuries to make them unable to fight adequately. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones. Losing his time slow advantage, Dallion became a target, earning himself a stab in the left leg. Instances helped him select a reality in which the cut was shallow, but it was still there and painful.

The instinct for self-reservation urged Dallion to respond with another line attack. His long-term fear kept him from doing so. He had already gone beyond his self-imposed quote. Any more now would put him at risk later.

Two cultists leapt over their partners in front, continuing with the attack. This time, none of them let Dallion complete a full guard sequence.

Making a forward somersault, Dallion did a vertical slash aiming to split another enemy in two. Two blades of void matter blocked his strike.

Ruby, Dallion ordered.

The shardfly flapped its wings from Dallion’s shoulder, sending a series of razor-sharp cuts through the air. Normally, they would be slow enough to be avoided without issue, but from a few inches distance they were merciless, killing one person and fatally injuring a second.

Two? Dallion thought as he completed his somersault. Gleam would have been proud.

Ruby shut his wings again, returning to being a clump of blackness on Dallion’s shoulder.

Desperate to keep Dallion from retrieving Nox, one of the cultists dragged the dagger, pulling it out from his dead colleague’s body. That proved to be a deadly mistake. Since leveling up, the crackling’s ability to cut wasn’t limited just to the blade. A spiderweb of cracks covered the cultist’s hand, eating through the void matter and then the rest of his hand.

You’re thinking too much, Harp told Dallion. Let yourself go on sound and instinct.

As much as Dallion wanted to, he felt he wasn’t ready to stop relying on his senses. As several times before, he knew the nymph to be right, just as he knew that now wasn’t the moment to experiment.

“Soon,” he whispered, splitting into instances. This time half a dozen of them got through the enemies’ layer of defense, grabbing the Nox dagger and finishing off the unfortunate cultist with a horizontal slash through the waist.

Seven, Dallion told himself. He was almost half-way through. So far, things were going better than expected. His injuries, although painful, remained minor considering the alternatives. There was one source of concern, though. While the attacking group of cultists was losing morale and initiative fast, the clerics still hadn’t joined in. If even half of them had done so, Dallion would have been presented with a difficult dilemma: risk dying on the spot or release the aetherbird.

I can end it all here, you know, Aether nudged, aware of Dallion’s thoughts. Cultists, buildings, and everything else. You’ll never have a chance like this. It’s possible that no one else in history would.

No.

There’s no shame. You put up a good fight. You killed over a thousand of them, but your stamina won’t last forever, unlike mine. I can let you finish off the annoying ones, but you’ll be in no state to face the Star. Something to think about.

Two more cultists broke off from the main group, making a quick escape. All that were left, closed ranks, but even so remained at a disadvantage. Dallion could almost feel the fear within them. There were eighteen when the encounter started. Now they were down to half that.

Things would have been so much easier if Gleam were here. Controlling an indestructible whip blade always attracted attention. Her ability to create illusions also would have come in handy.

“I don’t want you,” Dallion said, filling his words with fear. “I want the Star. So, it’s your choice. Try to impress him, or run away.”

Even with disfocus, Dallion could see the cultists glance at each other. A split second later, he dashed at them, holding a weapon in each hand.

Not very sporting, Nil grumbled. You should have at least given them a chance to run away.

Dallion didn’t respond. It wasn’t about giving them a chance, but about creating another distraction. Void matter emerged from the several of the cultists, creating a black shield in front of them. The harpsisword cut through without pause.

“Eight,” Dallion said as he spun around, continuing the attack with the Nox dagger. “Nine.”

A sharp bout of pain shot through Dallion’s leg again. He ignored it, throwing the Nox dagger at the nearest target.

“Ten.”

Everything seemed a lot easier all of a sudden. Dallion almost felt he could achieve everything. As a hunter, he knew this feeling well enough: the adrenalin rush that made creatures overconfident and if they weren’t careful—dead. Yet, there was something more to it. It was almost as if something was holding the cultists back.

Moving in a semi-trance, Dallion reduced the six remaining to five, then three. In one of his instances, he even rushed towards the clerics to see how they’d react. The moment he did, all eight of them exploded like water balloons. All void matter was trained from them, flowing into the inverted pyramid. Moments later, only bones were left in their place.

The sight was sobering, reminding Dallion just who he was facing. The aetherbird and the merciless state he had entered had made him considerably more powerful than before. The Star, though, was far stronger, choosing to destroy entities more powerful than any Dallion had faced, just to make a point.

“You’ve really come to kill me?” Arthurows’ voice boomed from the pyramid itself. “Cute. And you’ve brought my prize with you.”

The few remaining cultists tried to flee the complex, but the moment they moved was pierced by a series of spears that shot out from every building surface nearby. Around fifty spears even flew in Dallion’s direction, but they were easily blocked or evaded.

“You’re really starting to annoy me, you know,” the Star continued. “I could have used the gathering. They wouldn’t have survived, of course, but I could have used the void I gave them. You squandered that, and for nothing. You’ll still not be able to kill me, even with the skill gem you’re hiding inside your realm.”

Dallion’s heart skipped a beat. If the Star knew about the skill gem, what else did he know?

“Let’s test that. There’s only the two of us now. I’m at the top of the temple. Come face me. I promise I won’t try to escape. I’ll even make a Moon vow if you want.”

Calmly, Dallion went to a dead cultist and pulled out his Nox dagger from it.

“Don’t bother.” Dallion turned around. “I’m coming either way.” He made his way to the pyramid’s entrance and stepped inside.