Chapter 347 – Harvest (2)

Words : 1456 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

More tremors coursed through the Valley. Deafening ones this time, the first orbs of Green shining through the suffocating darkness. The Divine Root always gave the weaker beasts a head start, before waking the stronger ones up. They had to, lest they all got killed before they even made it into the Valley proper. Should that happen, the Greens would starve that much sooner. Colossal shadows the size of elephants barrelled toward Percy, their slightest move sending the dust in turmoil. He hurled six scythes above once more, forging another six in his hands. A giant tiger soon emerged, being the monster closest to him. Percy’s head didn’t even reach its chest. Two pristine white wings were folded neatly on its back. Though it didn’t seem like they would be necessary against a land-dweller like him. Its limbs bent as its muscles coiled with terrifying strength. It let out a low growl, before pouncing at Percy, the ground cracking where it had stood just a moment ago. Having already seen the attack coming, Percy rolled on the dirt, watching the beast’s razor-sharp claws pass mere inches from his face. But he didn’t remain passive. Hurling two of his scythes at the creature’s torso, he called the six above it to slice at its back. The remaining four, he kept for now, turning them incorporeal so that they wouldn’t impede him as they phased through the ground. Jumping to his feet, he was ready to meet the next challenger, the tiger’s lifeless body crashing gracelessly behind him. A titanic bear stood before him on its hindlegs this time. It was tall enough to tower over a medium-sized house, covered in dense black fur. Its paw descended with the force of a meteor, trying to squash him into paste – flesh, bones and armour alike. Shooting between its legs like an arrow set loose, he ignored the booming shockwave behind him, delivering four deep cuts into its soul. The injuries caused its joints to buckle, as eight more weapons followed behind him. They spun right through the monster’s neck, brutally shredding the silver flame in their passing. Another giant fell, as Percy charged ahead, still not happy with his opponents, nor himself. Running into the epicentre of the bloodbath, he dove into the very spot where the most Greens fought. Once more, he duplicated the scythes in his hands along the way, bringing the total to sixteen. Jaws large enough to gobble him up in a single bite snapped at him, as hooved legs the size of charging rams tried to flatten him. Percy danced through it all, a storm of phantom crescents complementing his every move, unleashing hell upon his opponents. Projections and reality blended, as did the dust in the air and the toxic globules drifting aimlessly around him. Crimson mud splotched beneath his boots, blooming waves rising with every fallen colossus. Every time a beast died, the survivors climbed over its lifeless body, trying not to drown amidst the ocean of death. Finally, Percy hit his limit. There were too many enemies. And they were too strong. Too large. And too vicious. Like a lone mouse surrounded by feral cats, his eyes darted all over the battlefield, always focusing on the most pressing threats. His lungs burned, as did his cores. And his channels. It wasn’t just due to the rush of mana in and out of his body. The dust made each breath a monumental task, shredding through his larynx, causing his eyes to tear up. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on NovelFire. Report any occurrences elsewhere. But he didn’t dare to blink, nor did he consider pausing for even the briefest of instants, knowing such folly would be his doom. Every now and then, an oversized claw ground against his armour, sparks flying as the reinforced mana cracked. The runes thrummed as they drank his mana, trying to weather the blows and repair his sole defence. Sometimes, he got hit in the wrong spot, permanently peeling a piece off the Regalia, or sending him tumbling through the mess. Whenever that happened, he struggled to regain his footing before the next blow landed. Keeping up with his spells wasn’t easy either. He lost control of his scythes more times than he could count, both the ones flying around him and the ones held in his hands, or those rolling along his limbs. He knew he’d stretched himself thin, forging so many constructs at once. But he pushed himself further and further, as his steps were both the fastest on the entire battlefield, and not nearly fast enough. He crafted more constructs too, whenever he got half a moment of respite. He brought the total to twenty. Then to twenty-five. Thirty. By now, it was impossible to wield them all. Not consciously, at least. So, he let go of many, allowing his instincts to do the rest. His mana to come to life. Over half the Greens around him were dead, but that didn’t relieve the pressure in the slightest. If anything, it had increased. The victors of the neighbouring battlefields rushed at him. Whether it was him they were attracted to, or the massacre, he didn’t know. Even some of the braver Yellows joined in – whatever few were still around, anyway – perhaps hoping to snatch a bite from under the Greens’ snouts. Percy didn’t care. Ten? Twenty? His scythes flew on their own, forming inviolable cyclones as they ravaged the battlefield. Wherever they passed, souls were extinguished… eyes glazed over, never to see again. Percy danced between the carcasses. And then, he danced on top of them. Unlike the Yellow beasts, the Greens never ran away from him. Their pride wouldn’t allow it. So many monstrous creatures in one place, to be defeated not by one another, but by a single human? Never! Or well… at least that was what he guessed they thought, based on their actions. Sadly, he’d never get the chance to ask them. They kept coming. And they continued dying. At some point, they even stopped fighting each other entirely. The survivors banded together, trying to slaughter the vile creature who dared to insult them. Or maybe they still slaughtered one another, and Percy was simply too preoccupied with his own battles to notice. Either way, he danced and kept dancing, his Regalia reduced to little more than a single layer by now. His armoured feet stepped on fur… and skin… and scales… and feathers… and bones. Eventually, it was over. Percy breathed heavily, the battle having taken everything he had and then some. His body hurt inside out, as did his soul. Turning his scythes corporeal, he allowed their countless blades to truly slice through the dust for the first time, blowing the cloud away to reveal the devastation that lay beneath. He was currently located dozens of metres above the ground, standing atop a veritable mountain of slain beasts. The mangled bodies at its base bled in several spots, as they had been injured predominantly by one another. Those at the top did not, as most of them had fallen to his own ethereal scythes, having suffered no wounds but the ones on their souls. A lake of blood stretched in every direction, seeping slowly into the torn earth, forming a whirlpool or even a waterfall in the occasional fissure. Scanning the countless bodies, Percy couldn’t spot a single intact soul. The few that remained were already about to fizzle out, as were their crumbling cores. Well, except for his companions’. Nesha and Elaine stood some distance away – the only living beings in the area beside him – their faces pale and their eyes wide. Even his cousin hadn’t dared to step closer to the carnage, despite being stronger than him overall. Until she got her domain, her spatial awareness and her survivability fell a little short of his own. Though he didn’t miss the dense droplet of pressurized water floating silently in front of her index finger, or the tiny butterflies fluttering by Nesha’s side, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. Knowing they could have intervened at any time filled him with warmth, but luckily, it hadn’t been necessary. Looking up, he couldn’t help but grin. Dozens of scythes spun in unison. He could feel each and every one of them. But he wasn’t manually controlling them. Merely directing them. Guiding them. Working with them. They responded to his slightest thought, his every impulse. But they were also free, like silent guardians animated by their own nascent will. [Congratulations! Your spells have merged: Replicating Soul Harvester – Refined + Vengeful Weapons – Refined -> Infinite Harvest of Souls – Masterful!]

Chapter 347 – Harvest (2)

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