210:
What? Who’s here?
Blood dripped into Darcy’s eyes. He frantically clutched his severed arm and fell backward.
Thud.
He felt something fall at his feet. In his ears were the sounds of painful howls, slaughter, and cheers… He randomly swung the broken sword in his hand and moved backward.
Darcy tried hard to open his eyes. In a sea of red, he vaguely made out that what had fallen in front of him was a head. That ugly, painted with strange oil paint, half-orc head.
Ignoring the bleeding from his severed arm, Darcy forcefully wiped his eyes. He looked up and saw a man in bright silver armor. With a simple red rope, he tied his silver-gray hair and held a longsword in his hand, his back to him.
All around him were the corpses of half-orcs, all beheaded with one slash. In the distance were the scattered and fleeing half-orcs, and a group of excited half-elven warriors were bravely chasing after them.
“You are…”
A name he couldn’t believe echoed in his mind. He was unwilling to admit it. The man who had stepped on him to make a name for himself could do such a thing.
“…Shelley.”
That man turned his head, glanced at him flatly, and then revealed an elegant smile, “Hello, Mr. Kevin.”
“By the way, you can call me Your Highness or Your Excellency.”
Darcy held his severed arm tightly and glared at Shelley, “You…”
Clang.
The sound of Shelley sheathing his sword interrupted Darcy’s words. Then he turned his head and smiled, walking toward the fallen crystal dragon.
Gritting his teeth, Darcy got up from the ground and walked toward the fortress, unwilling. In his state, he could no longer participate in the subsequent pursuit.
“Darcy Kevin.”
He stopped, turned his head coldly, not knowing what kind of humiliation he would encounter.
Surprisingly, that man was standing on the dragon’s back, with two priestesses behind him. He said seriously, “You have done very well. You are the heroes of Ir.”
Without waiting for his reply, the dragon spread its wings and flew high. Soon, there was only a small black dot left in the sky.
After a long silence, until he felt that his body could no longer bear the bleeding, Darcy dragged his feet and continued to walk toward the fortress.
“You don’t need to say it…”
“High Pries…”
“Tsk.”
…
[That man’s affection level has risen.]
[So you’re this kind of person.]
“Shut up. You’re so annoying.”
“Were you driven mad in that pure white space before?”
[Speaking of which,]
[The two little sisters behind, are they not going to make a move?]
“You’re still talking about this.”
At the mention of this, Shelley got angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me Erica was a gold dragon?”
[That would be~ so boring.]
Shelley wanted to continue arguing with the system, but Morgan behind him suddenly tapped him with her pipe.
“Hey! Why aren’t you talking?”
[She’s worried.]
Of course I know.
Shelley turned his head and smiled at the seemingly angry, but actually worried Morgan. He let out a long sigh and said, “This is a war between races.”
“It’s kill or be killed.”
“The half-orcs will not have any mercy when they face the half-elven commoners, and similarly, I have no emotional fluctuations when I kill these half-orc soldiers.”
“But I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Morgan turned her head away, not looking at Shelley’s gentle smile, and snorted.
Shelley: I’ve decided to call Morgan ‘Hmph-Hmph Monster.’
“Shelley, did you use a scroll just now?”
Erica, on the other hand, looked at Shelley with shining eyes, directly hugged his left arm, and asked in a spoiled tone, “Tell me.”
Pfft.
Shelley was just about to speak when he found that his other arm was being held. Morgan was still looking away from Shelley, but she was holding his arm tightly.
[The body is still very honest.]
Shelley only felt his arm sink into two unusually soft doughs.
Shelley: I’ve decided to call Erica ‘Little White Lotus.’
Although Shelley had a lot of inner drama, he showed no reaction on the surface.
In the past thirty seconds or so, Shelley had killed more than two hundred half-orc warriors. In the eyes of the two of them, Shelley’s figure had almost become an afterimage. Every flicker would take a life.
“It wasn’t a scroll… it was my ability.”
“A ninth-circle spell—Time Stop.”
It was my stand just now. Is this my Platinum Star? Jojo! Ahem…
[Time Stop · 9th Circle Spell: This spell seems to put everyone else except you in a state of time stop. But in fact, your speed becomes so fast that other creatures seem to be completely still, although they can actually still move normally.]
[Beings above the demigod rank are not affected by Time Stop.]
!!?
Morgan, who had been turning her head, couldn’t help but turn back when she heard this and looked at the man she was holding. Looking at Shelley’s handsome profile, Morgan’s gaze met Erica’s.
This time, they didn’t argue. They both saw the shock in each other’s eyes.
How many more secrets were hidden in this man’s body?
From the very beginning, Shelley had given them a feeling of being mysterious. Even now that they had divinity, the insurmountable rank pressure from Shelley’s body still existed, and had even become stronger.
“It’s alright.”
“Just ask when you want to. I will definitely not hide what I can say.”
Shelley’s gaze was always looking forward, not shifting, not making them feel embarrassed.
Some things could not be easily said. Once said, many things would completely change. Especially since they also had the responsibility to convey these messages to the goddesses they believed in… Would these messages be detrimental to Shelley? Would they cause a rift in the relationship between the goddesses and Shelley and the others?
These were all things they needed to consider. The more mature you were, the more you needed to consider.
Neither of them spoke, but Catherine, under their feet, spoke, “Shelley, Shelley, Shelley! Will you continue to get stronger?”
The three of them all smiled when they heard her words and shook their heads together with a light laugh. And those who didn’t need to consider much would seem very happy at times like this.
“I will.”
“I will continue to get stronger…”
For everything I want to protect now.
…
A half-orc warrior rushed into the original great chieftain’s tent, the current “temple,” and shouted anxiously, “Great Chie… I’m sorry! My Lord.”
Muhre’s appearance hadn’t changed. He was still a frail old man. He slowly helped up the panicked, bowing warrior and said slowly, “Great Chieftain or God of Half-Orcs, you are all my children.”
“Child, don’t be nervous. Just say what you have to say.”
Looking up gratefully, the warrior said quickly, “My Lord! The warriors who attacked the half-elves have been slaughtered!”
Slaughtered?
Muhre’s eyes immediately lit up. He stared at the warrior and said in a low voice, “What happened?”
“A dragon! It’s a dragon!”
“They… are here!”
Roar, roar, roar!
A vast dragon’s roar came from the sky, and then a loud shout, “Muhre!”
“Come out and die.”
