Chapter 164 - Chapter 164: The Father’s Blade I

Chapter 164: Chapter 164: The Father’s Blade I

A/N I just realised that the power scaling for the monster has been crazy and it dawned on me like wtf it shouldnt be this high so please forgive me as i made some changes. My editor is currently editing previous Chapter but soon she will get to those Chapters and edit where the mistakes were.

thank you for understanding.

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Marcus stepped through the hole in the wall, and dust came down around him in a slow grey curtain.

Behind him, in the portrait hall, Finn coughed on one knee. The support was already moving, hands lighting, calling something to the shield fighter that Marcus did not turn to hear.

He did not look back.

His sword hung low in his right hand. Blood ran from the knuckles of his left, the one he had used to put Vespera through the wall, and he did not wipe it. He walked into the broken chamber with the dust still falling and his eyes already on the shape lying in the rubble ahead of him.

[VESPERA — BRIDE OF POSSESSION] [LEVEL: 98] [HP: 37,800 / 58,000]

[MARCUS HALE — LEVEL 76] [HP: 16,800 / 16,800]

He did not check his own wounds. He did not look back toward the hall.

Vespera pushed herself up out of the rubble.

The punch had hurt her badly. It had not broken her.

Her silver hair hung across half her face, matted dark at the temple. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth and dripped off her chin onto the broken stone. One wing was bent wrong at the joint, the membrane torn, dragging behind her instead of folding. Her dress hung in a ruined strip down one side.

She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened, slow, testing her own balance before she trusted it.

Then she looked at him properly.

The last hit had crossed the room faster than her eyes could follow it. She had not seen him move. She was looking at him now the way a person looks at a problem they had badly underestimated.

She noticed he had not turned back to check on Finn once since stepping through the wall.

Red thread crawled up under the skin of the ruined wing, fine as hair, pulling the bent joint half a degree back toward its proper shape while Marcus closed the distance between them step by step.