Nibelungen (1)

"Odin?"

Luo Qiusheng spat out these three syllables in a low voice. There was no room for negotiation in the depths of his eyes; the dense swarm of Dead Servants closing in left him no chance to exchange pleasantries with that colossal figure clad in dark silver armor.

The rain poured down in torrents, cold water mingling with the black-red bloodstains on the road. Groups of Dead Servants with twisted limbs and rotting flesh let out hoarse, turbid growls from their throats. Like starving ghosts crawling out of hell, they scrambled to lunge at him with drooling fangs. The stench of foul blood mixed with the scent of decaying dragon blood rushed toward him, stifling his chest.

He did not stop moving, his spine twisting with supple grace as he side-stepped and vaulted. Every evasion barely grazed the sharp claws of the Dead Servants; their pointed nails tore through his cuffs, leaving deep, jagged gashes in the fabric. The entire sequence was a hair's breadth from disaster; a moment's hesitation would have seen him torn to pieces by the monsters.

His gaze swept rapidly over the familiar black Maybach beside him. The two empty storage compartments in the passenger side made his heart sink.

He knew those grooves all too well; they were once the place where Chu Tianjiao kept the [God-Slaying Blade: Murasame], which was now in the hands of Chu Zihang.

With not even a decent alchemical dagger at hand, Luo Qiusheng quickly wove through the surrounding vehicles to search. The rain blurred his vision until he rushed to a red Ferrari parked nearby. In a hidden compartment in the trunk, he unearthed an extended Barrett heavy sniper rifle. The heavy weight of the gun made his arm sink slightly, and the pre-loaded magazine in the chamber felt heavy, though he could not tell if the bullets were coated in alchemical plating.

Luo Qiusheng sidestepped the Dead Servants encircling him from three sides, briefly folding his wings to steady his stance. Taking advantage of the short recovery window after the Dead Servants' lunge, he braced the Barrett steadily, the muzzle aimed directly at the face of Odin, who stood in the distance amidst the rain.

"Bang—!"

A deafening gunshot exploded, the intense recoil numbing his shoulder bone. A sharp, piercing ringing instantly swept through his ears, crushing the continuous wailing, roaring, and faint murmurs of the surrounding Dead Servants, leaving only a buzzing echo in the world.

Rolling gray-white smoke rose from the muzzle, only to be mostly dissipated by the cold rain in an instant. As the chilly water slammed against Luo Qiusheng's cheeks and dripped down his jaw, he stared fixedly at Odin behind the smoke, thinking to himself that the heavy sniper rifle used to pierce the body of the First Generation at the Three Gorges Reservoir must have been the same model.

If the chamber was loaded with specialized alchemical armor-piercing rounds, it might truly be able to breach Odin's outer armor and inflict heavy damage on his true form.

But reality dealt him a ruthless blow.

The moment the bullet tore through the rain, Odin's body shifted slightly. His evasion speed was even more rapid than the high-speed projectile, his black cloak carving a residual image in the rain as he easily dodged the fatal strike.

The giant remained silent from beginning to end, making not a sound. Only his helmeted head tilted slightly, and with one hand, he slowly raised that iconic long spear—Gungnir. The biting tip of the spear locked firmly onto Luo Qiusheng, and a crushing sense of predestined oppression descended, as if his soul would be pierced by the spear in the next second.

Behind him, the Dead Servants surged forward one after another, blocking all paths of retreat with layer upon layer of bodies. Claws, fangs, and rotting corpses forced Luo Qiusheng into a desperate situation with no way out.

Luo Qiusheng looked up, gazing deeply at Odin in the distance, who was poised and gripping Gungnir. A faint, crisp sound of bones tearing echoed from his back as two massive, dark crimson wings burst through his coat, exposed to the torrential rain. Pale golden patterns derived from Constantine's dragon bones flowed across the wing bones.

Deep in the void of the road ahead, the dull, heavy sound of horse hooves grew clearer—thump, then thump again—like a hammer striking the heart. Driven by Odin's authority, the surrounding Dead Servants lunged with increasing madness, crashing and clawing at any cost, as if this Nibelungen could endlessly spawn these twisted monsters.

At this moment, it looked like a certain-death scenario.

"The King descends from the sky, wrathful and hideous?" A few lines from the original story inexplicably surfaced in Luo Qiusheng's mind. He pulled his lips into a bitter smile and whispered to himself, "A desperate man has nowhere to retreat."

He knew clearly that he was not as lucky as Lu Mingfei. He did not have the "Little Devil" Lu Mingze behind him to control the laws of exchange, no "Something for nothing" cheat code to trade a quarter of his life for power, nor did he have the hidden bloodline of the Black King to fall back on. There was no chance to overdraw his soul repeatedly or try again through trial and error.

Gungnir, World Tree, fate locked... these three words alone foretold the outcome once targeted by the spear—once thrown, there was no possibility of survival.

Countless thoughts surged through his mind, and the sense of impending death gripped his heart. Luo Qiusheng forced himself to stay calm, his gaze nailed to the black Maybach not far away.

That was the only vehicle in the entire Nibelungen capable of breaking through this illusion and returning to reality.

But would Odin give him the chance to escape? The answer was obvious: absolutely not. This path had been completely sealed from the very beginning.

"Hit the coward first, then the leader!"

Luo Qiusheng suppressed the panic in his heart and channeled the two powers within him to drive his wings. The massive wing blades swept out, the sharp bones easily slicing through the rotting bodies of the Dead Servants, sending splashes of filthy blood and minced flesh flying.

Yet, as soon as one batch was killed, new Dead Servants crawled out from the depths of the rain and mist—endless, as if they could never be slaughtered to the last.

Fortunately, the Constantine dragon bone fused within him had brought the soul power of the Douluo world into this Nibelungen illusion. The two powers intertwined, providing a continuous supply for the wings' consumption.

With every slash, the wings acted like two giant guillotines flowing with fire, sharp and fierce. Any Dead Servant caught by the wing blades was torn apart on the spot, their severed limbs falling into the stagnant water.

Under the continuous infusion of soul power, this set of soul bones, derived from the bones and blood of a First Generation, was constantly being strengthened. Warm energy flowed through his spine to his limbs, and a piece of skill information hidden deep within the soul bones suddenly surfaced in his mind—it was unclear whether it was an authority inherent to the dragon bone or a unique soul skill exclusive to the Douluo soul bones.

But Luo Qiusheng had no time to investigate. If he hesitated for another moment, Gungnir would come tearing through the air, and he would have no room left to maneuver.

[Spirit Word: Candle Dragon.]

The silent chant echoed in his heart. Luo Qiusheng's pupils suddenly erupted with dazzling gilded light. The pure light of the Golden Pupil pierced through the rain and mist, and a majestic, scorching fire-type authority surged wildly from within him—it was the supreme power of the King of Bronze and Fire, the flame origin derived from the First Generation, Constantine.

He waved his hand lightly, and a cluster of crimson flames rose from his palm. Fine flames quickly spread outward, devouring the surrounding Dead Servants bit by bit. Wherever the fire touched, the decaying bodies instantly carbonized and burned to ash, and a pungent, scorched smell filled the air.

The temperature of the flames continued to climb rapidly without limit. With Luo Qiusheng as the center, a raging barrier of fire formed out of thin air, isolating all the falling cold rain. The raindrops were instantly evaporated by the high heat before they could even get close, turning into a sky full of white mist.

Every time he waved his hand, a surging sea of fire swept forward, and swathes of Dead Servants were swallowed by the flames before they could even wail. The wave of monsters that had been suppressing him just moments ago collapsed in an instant.

The identities of hunter and prey were completely reversed the moment the Candle Dragon flames spread out.

Just then, a cold black shadow cut through the rain. Odin finally released his palm, and Gungnir, carrying the fatal pressure of locking onto everything, was thrown straight at him!

Luo Qiusheng's pupils constricted, his deep eyes locked firmly on the flying spear. He prayed silently in his heart, betting his entire life on one thing—the object in Odin's hand could not possibly be the genuine Gungnir crafted from the branches of the World Tree!

The genuine Gungnir was rooted in the origin of the world and carried the laws of fate; even if all the Spirit Words in the world were gathered, it could not be damaged in the slightest. But the spear before him was merely a projection of Odin's authority, a replica whose material was nothing more than high-grade alchemical metal, lacking the blessing of the World Tree's origin.

The King of Bronze and Fire was a First Generation, and the Candle Dragon was the pinnacle fire-type apocalyptic Spirit Word. Containing the complete flame authority of two Dragon Kings, it was more than enough to incinerate a replica!

The surging sea of fire actively swept forward, wrapping around the flying Gungnir layer by layer. The alchemical metal on the surface of the spear quickly turned red, softened, and cracked under the extreme heat, and the light of the once-biting spear tip dimmed bit by bit.

Watching with his own eyes as Gungnir was slowly swallowed and dissolved by the Candle Dragon flames, Luo Qiusheng's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, and a look of relief bloomed from the bottom of his heart.

The torrential rain continued to wash over the road, but the sea of fire surrounding him did not extinguish in the slightest. Within his Golden Pupils, there was no longer a trace of the panic he had felt while on the brink of death.