Enemy

The System AI, a voice rarely heard, piped up with a tone that was almost... suggestive: "Dear host! Fancy a little personal treasure hunt for once? After a quick scan, I've detected some rather interesting skill books on those blademasters that might just be right up your alley."

The System AI was connected directly to Duke's brain, a seamless, almost telepathic link, meaning this communication took virtually no time at all.

"Skill book?" Duke scoffed internally, a mental eye-roll. "Why in the blazes would a mage like me need a blademaster skill book? I'm already tired of lugging around this oversized kitchen knife of a staff!" He imagined himself, a dignified Archmage, awkwardly trying to twirl a massive two-handed sword. The image was ridiculous.

"I don't know the specifics," the AI chirped back, its digital voice brimming with tantalizing mystery, "but some of the energy fluctuations in their bodies seem to match yours. If you can manage to dispatch them individually, there's a good chance you might be able to extract a skill book directly from the residual energy in their bodies. Think of the possibilities!"

Wow! This is even possible!? Duke's eyes, still fixed on the swirling chaos outside, widened to the size of dinner plates. A jolt of pure, unadulterated excitement, mixed with a healthy dose of avarice, shot through him.

Duke screamed! Internally, of course. A silent, triumphant roar of pure, unholy glee.

What skills did the Blademaster have? Oh, the Blademaster had a veritable smorgasbord of skills!

But the most crucial, the most coveted, were still those four legendary abilities.

Wind Walk could make the Blademaster vanish into thin air, becoming invisible, and boost his movement speed to dizzying levels. If the Blademaster attacked a target during this invisible period, it would cause extra, devastating damage and reveal himself at the same time. This was leagues beyond a rogue's paltry stealth, a true ghost in the machine!

Mirror Image could conjure an illusion of the Blademaster, a perfect duplicate, to utterly confuse the opponent, while simultaneously dispelling all adverse magical effects on the original. Talk about a magic trick!

Critical Strike gave the Blademaster a significantly higher chance to land a devastating blow, causing far more damage with each attack. Every hit a potential knockout punch!

Blade Storm! Not to mention, the rapidly rotating blades could easily severely damage all nearby enemy ground troops, turning them into mincemeat, and, as a cherry on top, render the Blademaster immune to magic. An unstoppable, whirling dervish of death!

Any one of these four skills could bring immense, game-changing help to Duke. He was practically salivating.

For a moment, a grand, glorious ambition surged into Duke's heart, overwhelming all other thoughts.

Fight the fat cats! Take over their turf!

Oh no! Wrong idiom.

It should be...

Beat the boss! Loot him dry!

At this moment, Duke's mind was sharper, more focused than ever before, honed by his inner greed, his insatiable desire for power, and the burning anger at being so rudely, if temporarily, killed.

It was a magical and strangely delightful mental distortion, a touch of glorious madness.

He didn't even notice the following few things flashing by in the system prompts, little nuggets of information that would have made any other mortal weep with joy:

"Detected the activation of Greed from the Seven Deadly Sins: You have developed a strong desire for something... Because your Humanity is at its peak, Greed has transformed from a negative soul state to a positive soul state... The transformation is in progress. You have gained the temporary special abilities Plunder and Luck."

"Plunder: You can obtain more loot from the enemies with status that you kill. (Note: This can be loot that goes beyond the concept of physics. Think outside the box!)"

"Lucky: Even living enemies can be your luck. They are the key to your promotion. When the Lucky state is triggered, you will get a higher chance of spell critical hits and better item drops. You're practically walking under a lucky star!"

Duke didn't notice. He really, truly didn't. He was too busy cackling internally.

He only knew that his magic had been activated, and it was time to unleash hell.

Just as the Blademasters, dizzy from their own spinning, ended their Blade Storms, a Rapid Avalanche broke out.

A massive amount of water elements, summoned from the very air, filled in from the surroundings, rushing into the giant Ice Shield that Duke had opened on the spot. Combined with Rapid Avalanche, it actually turned the place where the Blademasters were into a giant ice ball, held high by dozens of shimmering, deadly icicles.

The translucent ice film blocked all entry and exit, a frozen prison, and inside, the temperature was dropping madly, plummeting to arctic levels. At the same time, a huge, clockwise ice and snow storm swept up everything inside, a miniature blizzard of death.

The Blademasters were so depressed they practically spat teeth. Their faces were a mask of pure, unadulterated fury and disbelief.

The impact of their own Blade Storm on them was too great. The aftereffect of the rapid burst of power was a feeling of utter exhaustion, leaving them drained and vulnerable. At this precise moment, the enemy, that infuriating human, exploded with power. That unreasonable ice tornado didn't look like the work of an Archmage at all. It was not an exaggeration to say that it was the Master, no, the Bright Moon, himself, channeling the very essence of winter.

It wasn't strong in terms of freezing air alone; the real kicker was that Duke had slyly placed a large number of palm-sized, perfectly round ice flakes within the shield. Under the swirling ice storm, these ice flakes all turned into the most deadly sharp blades, cutting their bodies madly, turning them into human (or rather, orcish) ribbons.

Under normal circumstances, the blademasters could have used various means to dodge the attacks before the magic was fully formed, slipping away like shadows. But Duke had struck when they had just released their ultimate moves and hadn't even had time to catch their breath. They were caught with their pants down.

If it were any other enemy, they could have just used Wind Walk and bolted. But where were they going now? Trapped in a frozen sphere! Because they were weakened, they were directly sucked into the ice storm and lost all control of their bodies, spinning helplessly.

Blademasters are definitely the elite among orcs, the cream of the crop. Compared with other orcs, Blademasters have the most extreme attack power, speed, and agility. They only need one strike to chop down a tree or split a boulder. In contrast, their defense and vitality are just like those of an ordinary human. After using their ultimate skills, Blademasters are even worse than ordinary humans, as fragile as glass.

The ice blades kept inflicting wounds on them, a relentless, icy torment, and soon, the first Blademaster, his body a mangled mess, lost his life.

The second, the third... a grim tally.

The leading blademaster, a true warrior to the core, was furious, his single remaining eye burning with a wild, untamed rage. He let out a primal, guttural roar.

"Lok-tar, ogar!" he bellowed, a cry of "Victory or Death!" that echoed through the ice.

Despite his weakness, despite the extreme soreness in his arms, and even though his arm muscles burst in agony every time he swung the sword, he still attacked, driven by sheer, unadulterated will.

Relying on his stronger physique than other Blademasters, a last, desperate surge of power, he suddenly kicked a piece of ice that was already floating in the air. With the seemingly insignificant reaction force, he launched himself out of the killing range of the ice shield like a falling meteor, a suicidal trajectory.

"You...only you...must die!" The blademaster's face was a canvas of countless bloodstains, a gruesome masterpiece, and the wounds cut by the sharp ice blades were covered with frost, stinging with cold. Before breaking through the range of the shield, the ice blades cut his face again and again, carving new scars.

The scars on his chest were already crisscrossed, a horrifying tapestry of old wounds, like a piece of rotten meat about to be chopped up. Only a small section of the tattered red flag on his back remained, a defiant scrap.

Only the long sword, Gorehowl, was still shockingly bright, gleaming with a malevolent light, and only in the one remaining blood-red eye was there an endless surge of fighting spirit, a burning, unquenchable fire.

Duke raised his head, his eyes calmly gazing at the Blademaster who risked his own life to launch a fatal blow against him. A flicker of respect, quickly extinguished by pragmatism.

Duke suddenly admired him very much. Not everyone has the guts to go deep behind enemy lines and try to kill the enemy's leader. That took some serious brass.

Not everyone has the courage to launch a desperate, suicidal charge against the enemy while there is still a chance to escape. Most would cut and run.

If he chose to escape, Duke might not be able to catch up with him, not with his ice circuits drained, but after seeing his brothers die in battle, he chose to die with Duke. He was going down swinging.

He is a hero. A true, tragic hero.

Pity...

The enemy's hero is my enemy! Duke's inner voice was cold, decisive.

Fire is not fatal to the Burning Blade Clan; they practically bathe in it. Duke's ice circuits had all been used in that huge ice storm, utterly drained, so the only thing left was... arcane! Pure, unadulterated magical force!

No longer caring about hiding his true power, 108 shimmering magician hands, conjured from pure arcane energy, formed a huge corridor, with the Blademaster leader at one end and Duke at the other. If he wanted to kill Duke, he had to run the gauntlet, straight into the Arcane Shock blasted out by these ethereal hands.

The dense barrage of arcane bullets completely exceeded the limit that the blademaster leader could endure. It was like trying to stop a hailstorm with a sieve.

In less than a tenth of a second, the blademaster leader was beaten into a sieve, riddled with arcane holes, and fell heavily to the ground, his body a broken mess.