15 psychic powers? I'm here to fight psychic powers!

Chapter 16 15. Psychic Power? I'll Beat the Psychic Power Out of You!

Barbarus, Southern Swamps, Diderot Mountains.

The Alien Lord Dursley was standing by the lab table, pondering why its transformation experiment had suddenly failed.

On the table, seemingly haphazardly cut-up corpses of the Under-Hivers were arranged in a specific order, crudely sewn together with thick, black twine. Yellowish-black pus oozed slowly from the wounds.

Yes, Little Lord Dursley was creating an advanced puppet. Generally, whether low-level or high-level, puppets were pieced together from the corpses of strong Under-Hivers. The only difference might be the Psychic Sorcery applied to them.

The sorcery to create advanced puppets consumed a great deal of Psychic Power. At Dursley's level, creating one would leave it weakened for a while.

But if it were Nac'Lare, the true master of Barbarus, that guy could create a dozen advanced puppets instantly with a wave of his hand.

Although Dursley could also create a dozen low-level puppets with a wave of its hand, the gap between low-level and high-level puppets was insurmountable.

These mass-produced low-level puppets could only fight, unlike the advanced puppets, which could organize tactics, use simple Psychic Power, and command lower-level puppets.

Moreover, the combat power of an advanced puppet was several times that of a low-level puppet.

But before this, Little Lord Dursley had always adhered to the principle of "brute force solves everything," focusing on quantity over quality. As long as it had enough low-level puppets, it could overwhelm a single advanced puppet.

Yes, the lords in the south favored easily manufactured puppets. Some also tamed other monsters, but only those lords with sufficient territory had options other than puppets.

For example, Dursley had previously used human-wave tactics to overwhelm several small lords nearby, and then raised many Foul Hounds.

But now... none of that worked anymore.

Dursley thought through gritted teeth that since the arrival of the Death Guard from the north, and that scythe-wielding monster wandering around at night, the harvesting of Under-Hivers had become increasingly difficult.

At first, they just thought that conquering villages at night would become more complicated.

In fact, that was how it was at first. The Death Guard led by Typhon actively organized night defenses in various villages.

But they all overlooked the guy wandering in the poison fog, just like them.

What was going on?! That guy was clearly also an Under-Hiver, and unlike Calas Typhon, wasn't a hybrid with Psychic Power. He was just a tall and strong Under-Hiver! How was he killing those small lords?

None of the lords knew; the parties involved were already dead.

That guy carried a scythe, appearing silently in the poison fog, and then cutting off the heads of the Alien Lords who came down the mountain to hunt.

Dursley was a little glad that it never went down the mountain to hunt, but its slave-hunting teams had suffered heavy losses, with nearly a hundred puppets dying in several hunts.

No, no. If it went down the mountain, it would definitely kill that damned bastard.

That lowly Under-Hiver!!!

Despite these thoughts, Alien Lord Dursley had been quietly staying in its territory ever since.

News of Alien Lords being killed in their territories kept spreading.

It was impossible not to panic.

But the road to hunt Under-Hivers down the mountain was blocked. No matter how many slave-hunting teams went down, the end was always death.

Without raw materials to create puppets, Dursley couldn't continue its quantity-over-quality tactics.

So Lord Dursley had no choice but to bite the bullet and try to create advanced puppets.

But just now, its first attempt had failed.

It felt like its connection to the heavens had suddenly been cut off.

Dursley was standing by the lab table, lost in thought. Other experimental equipment was operating in other parts of the room, the roar of the steam engine turning, the mechanical arms creaking.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows at the door, its face under the gas mask blurred, making it difficult to discern its true appearance.

The shadow was about three meters away from Dursley, while Lord Dursley was still standing by the lab table, unknowingly facing away from the door.

Lord Dursley knew that if there was an attack, its puppets and Foul Hounds would have already started stirring.

However, it miscalculated—

In an instant, it felt like someone had suddenly grabbed its throat, and its vision went black. It was as if the connection between its soul and body had suddenly been severed!

The figure at the door suddenly burst forth!!! Charging straight towards its face with a blade!!!

Dursley instinctively raised its hand to block, while the other hand used its most common Incendiary Sorcery!

"Ah!!!!"

The hand that tried to use sorcery instantly exploded, while the scythe changed angle, bypassing the block, and hooking its insides!

The curved blade of the scythe skillfully avoided the obstruction, and the tip pierced through Dursley's huge, bloated body as easily as cutting through tofu.

The tip probed further, deep inside, and a string of blood-red organs, like plump grapes, hung on it, falling out as the scythe slashed down!

"You!"

Dursley stared intently at this uninvited guest. In the last second of its life, it saw the wraith.

Compared to other Under-Hivers, it had a tall and sturdy body, wearing a dark black leather protective suit all over, and under the gas mask and hood, were a pair of deep, black pupils that seemed to suck everything in, devoid of any soul!!!

This was a cursed wraith!

Those black eyes stared at it without any emotion, and then he brought his blade down again.

The blade flashed, and the head fell.

Today is a good day.

Hades thought cheerfully, the assassination was a success, and he'd run into a simpleton.

It seemed the Alien Lord was already dead, but Hades, not wanting to take any chances, gave it a few more strikes.

Afterward, he looked with some disgust at the things on the lab table, the dismembered pieces strewn haphazardly, corpse oil flowing all over the floor.

"Crap."

Hades didn't bother with the dismembered pieces just yet. Now that the Lord was dead, the puppets should be feeling the Psychic Power change. They should be fleeing.

Hades quickly retraced his steps, running upwards along the path he had scouted. He hurried to the top of the castle tower.

Several puppets were running around the top of the castle in a state of collapse. Hades quickly granted them mercy.

Then he looked toward the edge, where several cannons stood imposingly.

Unlike the medieval cannons he had imagined, the weapons here were all electronically modified—"they look like medieval cannons," "they work like medieval cannons," "the shells they fire are like medieval cannonballs, just with more power," "but they're just not medieval cannons"—modified cannons.

Hades ran over, peering out through the observation port. The puppets that had fled first were clearly almost at the place where he had planted the mines.

Hades adjusted the cannon, aiming them at the sheds where the Dursley family kept their Foul Hounds. Disturbed by the commotion, several of the hounds had broken their chains and run out.

It doesn't matter.

Hades lit the cannon, then quickly ran away, to a spot five meters away.

If he stayed where he was, Hades would bet that the cannon would either misfire or explode.

Several cannons were lit in turn. Hades did the same, and after blowing up the dog kennels, he started blowing up the puppet hordes.

...In the distance, the buried mines also began to explode.

The scattered puppets had completely lost their desire to flee. These corpse pieces, animated by Psychic Sorcery, only possessed the desire for killing and torment.

Amidst the countless roaring and brilliant explosions, Hades leaned over and jumped down from the fortress, wielding his blade to reap.

Once upon a time, he had watched Mortarion reap the puppets so ruthlessly.

And now, it was his time to unleash the flower of slaughter!

The soul of a chuunibyou, ignited!