Nibelungen (2)

"Odin?"

Luo Qiusheng spat out the name in a low voice, his eyes devoid of any room for negotiation. The dense swarm of Dead Servants closing in left him no opportunity to parry words with that colossal figure clad in dark silver armor.

The rain poured in torrents, cold water mingling with the black-red bloodstains on the road. The Dead Servants, their limbs twisted and flesh rotting, let out guttural, turbid roars from their throats. Like starving ghosts crawling out of hell, they scrambled to lunge at him, baring fangs dripping with saliva. The stench of putrid dragon blood hit him in a wave, choking his chest.

He did not stop moving, his spine twisting with fluid grace as he side-stepped and vaulted. Every dodge barely grazed the sharp claws of the Dead Servants; their pointed nails tore through his sleeves, leaving deep gashes in the fabric. It was a narrow escape every time; a moment's hesitation would have seen him torn limb from limb by the monsters.

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

He knew those slots all too well; they were once used to house Chu Tianjiao's [Murasame Divine Blade], which was now in Chu Zihang's possession.

With not even a decent alchemical dagger at hand, Luo Qiusheng darted between the surrounding vehicles to search. The rain blurred his vision until he reached a parked red Ferrari. In a hidden compartment in the trunk, he unearthed an extended Barrett heavy sniper rifle. The heavy weight of the weapon made his arm dip slightly, and the pre-loaded magazine felt substantial, though he couldn't tell if the bullets were coated in alchemical plating.

Luo Qiusheng sidestepped a three-sided encirclement of Dead Servants, briefly folding his wings to steady himself. Taking advantage of the momentary lag after the creatures' lunge, he braced the Barrett firmly and aimed the muzzle directly at the face of Odin, who stood motionless in the rain.

"Bang—!"

The deafening gunshot exploded, the intense recoil numbing his shoulder bone. A sharp, piercing ringing instantly swept through his ears, crushing the continuous wails, hisses, and whispers of the surrounding Dead Servants until only a buzzing echo remained in the world.

Gray-white smoke rose from the muzzle, only to be mostly dissipated by the cold rain. As the icy water slammed against his cheeks and dripped down his jaw, he stared fixedly at Odin through the smoke. He mused 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 were loaded with specialized alchemical armor-piercing rounds, it might actually breach Odin's outer armor and deal critical damage to 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 faster than the high-velocity projectile, his black cloak leaving a trail of afterimages in the rain as he easily dodged the fatal strike.

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

Behind him, the Dead Servants surged forward in waves, blocking all paths of retreat. Claws, fangs, and rotting bodies forced Luo Qiusheng into a desperate situation with no way out.

Luo Qiusheng looked up, staring deeply at Odin, who stood ready with Gungnir gripped tight. A faint, crisp sound of bone tearing echoed from his back as two massive, dark-red wings burst through his coat, exposed to the torrential rain. Faint golden patterns, derived from Constantine's dragon bones, flowed across the wing bones.

In the distance, deep within the void of the highway, the dull, heavy sound of hooves grew clearer. Each beat struck at the heart. Driven by Odin's authority, the surrounding Dead Servants became even more frantic, charging and clawing regardless of the cost, as if this Nibelungen could endlessly spawn these twisted monsters.

The situation looked like a death trap from every angle.

"The King descends in wrath and ferocity?" A few lines from the original story surfaced in Luo Qiusheng's mind, and he curled his lips into a bitter smile, whispering to himself, "A desperate man has nowhere to retreat."

He knew clearly that he was not as lucky as Lu Mingfei. He had no Little Devil like Lu Mingze to control the laws of exchange, no "Something for nothing" cheat code to trade a quarter of his life for power, and no hidden Black King bloodline to fall back on. There was no chance to overdraw his soul repeatedly or trial-and-error his way to success.

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, the sense of impending death gripping his heart. Luo Qiusheng forced himself to stay calm, his eyes pinned on the black Maybach not far away.

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

But would Odin give him the chance to escape? The answer was obvious: absolutely not. This path had been 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 sprays of filthy blood and shredded flesh flying.

Yet, for every batch he killed, new ones crawled out from the depths of the rain and mist—endless, as if they could never be wiped out.

Fortunately, the Constantine dragon bone integrated into his body brought the soul power of the Douluo world into this Nibelungen illusion. The two powers intertwined, providing a constant supply of energy for his wings.

With every swing, his wings acted like two giant guillotines of flowing flame, sharp and fierce. Any Dead Servant caught by the blades was torn apart on the spot, their limbs and remains 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 reinforced. Warm energy flowed through his spine and into his limbs, and a piece of skill information hidden deep within the soul bones suddenly surfaced in his mind. He couldn't tell if it was an innate authority of 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 incantation echoed in his heart. Luo Qiusheng's pupils suddenly erupted with dazzling molten gold. The pure light of his Golden Pupil pierced through the rain and mist, and a majestic, scorching fire-elemental authority surged wildly from within him. It was the supreme power of the King of Bronze and Fire lineage, originating from the flame essence of the First Generation, Constantine.

He waved his hand, 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 rotting bodies instantly carbonized and burned to ash, filling the air with a pungent, charred stench.

The temperature of the flames continued to climb without limit. Centered on Luo Qiusheng, a roaring barrier of fire formed out of thin air, isolating all the falling cold rain. The raindrops evaporated instantly upon contact with the high heat, turning into a sea of white mist.

With every wave of his hand, a surging sea of fire swept forward, swallowing swathes of Dead Servants before they could even wail. The wave of monsters that had been suppressing him so tightly collapsed in an instant.

The roles 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 grip, and Gungnir, carrying the weight of a fate that locked onto everything, was thrown straight at him!

Luo Qiusheng's pupils constricted. His deep eyes locked onto the incoming spear, and he prayed silently, betting his entire life on one thing—the spear 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; it could not be damaged in the slightest, even if all the Spirit Words in the world were gathered. But the spear before him was merely a projection of Odin's authority, a replica made of high-grade alchemical metal without 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, the light of the once-frigid tip dimming 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 smile of relief bloomed from the bottom of his heart.

The torrential rain continued to wash over the highway, but the sea of fire surrounding him showed no signs of extinguishing. In his Golden Pupils, there was no longer a trace of the panic he had felt when facing death just moments before.