Chapter 12: God-Slayer
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Oran held a katana in each hand, crossing the blades horizontally to block Eladin's strike. Ivankov and the others stared in shock—none of them had expected Oran to have such a skill hidden up his sleeve.
In truth, Oran was concealing far more than just one card.
Building the Hextech gate was necessary for their evacuation. Distributing weapons and setting traps were crucial parts of the plan. Beyond that, however, there was no reason for Oran to share everything he knew or could do.
Even his allies didn't know the full extent of his capabilities—let alone the Celestial Dragons, who were entirely ignorant of the intricacies of this place.
Eladin, seeing his attack blocked, felt a spark of interest.
Compared to the Knights of God led by Garling, Eladin was far inferior. The Knights of God represented the pinnacle of the Celestial Dragons' combat forces, while Eladin wasn't even a reserve member.
Despite his grumbling about Garling, Eladin was no match for him in any aspect.
That said, he was different from the other useless Celestial Dragons who hid behind bubble helmets. Eladin, at least, was a backbone member of the Celestial Dragons under normal circumstances.
For Eladin, prey that could resist was far more entertaining to hunt.
"I never imagined that in a remote place like the West Blue, there could be lowly scum who could pique my interest. No—rebels, I should say," Eladin sneered.
"If those fools had caught up to you, you might have succeeded. That would have been a real shame."
The Celestial Dragons weren't incapable of normal speech, but their favored tactic was to intimidate their targets with words before "harvesting" them.
"You should feel honored. I'm in a hurry today, so I won't torture you for too long."
But today, Eladin's arrogance was about to backfire.
"Heh. Your species never fails to amaze me. What makes you so confident that you'll win here?" Oran asked with a smirk.
"Strength, of course!" Eladin roared. "You're just a lowly insect. Anyone who dares offend the majesty of a god is doomed to fall!"
Eladin began to press harder with his arms, increasing the force of his attack.
The lower-tier Celestial Dragons might be foolish, but those at the top understood basic logic. They wouldn't allow a group of pirate slaves with high bounties to make a mockery of them.
The Grand Line and the Red Line separated the Four Blues, leading to stark differences in combat power between regions. Pirates capable of surviving in the New World would easily dominate in the Four Blues.
Thus, Eladin had never considered the possibility of encountering strong resistance in the Valley of the Gods. He hadn't even used much strength at the start of the battle. But now, as he applied greater force, he was surprised to find it ineffective.
"As expected," Oran said with a quiet chuckle. "Anything can claim to be a god."
The core of Oran's armor began to hum as it charged, blue energy coursing through his exoskeleton.
Output power: 100%.
Some parts of Valoran were relatively peaceful, but the continent was far from inherently safe. Darkin roamed freely, demons lurked among the population, the Void schemed in the shadows, and the celestial opposition watched from atop Targon.
While Piltover wasn't plagued by these threats, Oran understood the value of personal strength. Fortunately, his unique circumstances had allowed him to learn from several excellent "teachers."
"If someone like you can claim to be a god," Oran said, his voice calm but firm, "then today, I'll become a godslayer."
Through his mask, Oran couldn't see Eladin's expression, but he didn't need to.
With the exoskeleton amplifying his power, Oran unleashed a tremendous burst of strength, forcing Eladin's blade to deflect. At the same time, he swung both katanas upward in a diagonal arc, aiming directly at his opponent.
The two slashes cut through the air simultaneously, disrupting the surrounding airflow. At that moment, Oran's swords seemed to create an invisible barrier that interfered with Eladin's movements, leaving him momentarily stunned.
A few strands of Eladin's hair fluttered to the ground, and a sharp crack appeared in his mask. The mask split in two, revealing his livid expression.
"You've actually made me breathe this filthy air!" he growled.
Swish!
Oran's blade whistled past his ear. But Oran didn't waste time exchanging words. While Eladin seethed in anger, Oran had already moved to his side. His right blade slashed in a straight arc, while his left blade followed with a piercing thrust.
Eladin reacted instinctively, dodging Oran's attack just in time. He swung his blade in retaliation, but Oran easily deflected it.
The clash of blades echoed through the canyon. After several exchanges, Oran shifted his stance, pulling his dual swords back slightly. With a burst of energy, he lunged forward. The sheer force of the strike released a flurry of wind blades that severed two massive trees behind Eladin and left deep gouges in the rock wall.
"Flying Slash?! No… that's not a Flying Slash. The power's all wrong. Who the hell is this guy? He's no ordinary rabbit!" Eladin exclaimed, his composure faltering.
"In fact," Oran replied calmly, "meeting a Celestial Dragon like you is a blessing in disguise.
You're troublesome, sure, but this way, I don't have to worry about whether scum like you can even understand the insults I'm using."
The swirling energy around Oran's blades began to fade, revealing the aftermath of a technique unlike any typical swordsmanship.
Oran's mastery of the blade came from an unusual source. His teacher wasn't a living man, but a "dead soul" from the spiritual realm—Yone.
Yone, the brother of a man who had disappeared into the canyon every day.
The spiritual realm was a recurring setting in Oran's dreams. Years ago, Oran had encountered Yone there and made a trade—he exchanged information about Yasuo for Yone's guidance in swordsmanship.
Yone's techniques were different from Yasuo's wind-controlling style. And as a "dead" man, Yone had agreed to pass on his methods.
Now, assessing Eladin's position, Oran saw no reason to continue engaging. The battle had already served its purpose.
Bang! Bang!
Two muffled shots rang out as a reinforced rope net shot toward Eladin from the side.
Until now, Ivankov and the others had been unable to act due to the close-quarters combat. But now that the two fighters had created distance, Ivankov and his men saw their chance and struck without hesitation.
"It's just a cheap trick!" Eladin sneered. "You absolute filth! Aren't you supposed to be a swordsman?"
To Eladin, the flying net was laughably slow. He was certain that apart from Oran's blades, nothing this group could throw at him posed any real threat.
But as he raised his blade to slice through the net, an unseen force gripped him.
His arms froze mid-air, and his entire body stiffened. Unable to move, he could only watch as the net wrapped tightly around him.
Thrown off balance, Eladin toppled to the ground, pinned by the net's weight.
At the same time, several metal claw-like devices emerged around him. Beneath him, he lay sprawled on a metallic disc that began to hum with energy.
The trap wasn't just a simple net. It emitted a gravity field that immobilized its target, sapping their strength and leaving them disoriented.
The device was a prototype inspired by Viktor's research—an ingenious tool for controlling and incapacitating opponents.
"Swordsman?" Oran smirked. "I only know enough swordsmanship for self-defense. Why would I bother fighting someone like you fairly?
Isn't this your game?
The only difference is that today, you're the prey."
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