166 A crushed dream (2/2)

Seven silhouettes encircled him, as the previously injured ratman and human had been healed quickly. The latter was still feeling a bit of pain in his throat, but that did not prevent him from joining the fray. Dirtied by the stone dust that fell on him when he broke the wall and the ceiling, the half kneeling demon silently clenched his fists, completely focused now. Only after helping Malakov will he be able to obtain real answers.

However, the killers soon found out that they had a problem after getting in position. The armor Agnil forged for Ymir was completely covering him from head to toe, and even his neck was completely hidden behind the dark metal. As for his helmet, the holes that allowed the demon to see were small enough to even stop the head of the arrows. Because it was made especially for him, it offered far greater protection than the armors crafted in mass.

Sensing the hesitation of those that followed him, even the Black Gauntlet had to admit this was a tough foe. Maybe even more problematic than dragons, as even their scales weren't looking that sturdy. Remembering that Avirus had thrown a few punches at this, he managed to spot the damages, only to regret seeing them. The small holes that were barely deforming the chest plate showed how durable it was.

Raising high his weapon, he tried to punch Ymir, only to be blocked by one of his hands. The demon was still half-kneeling on the ground and barely moved at all, besides one arm. Soon, a whirlpool of blades began to repeatedly cut him, as he was swinging left and right his three other arms. Backing off a little, the Black Gauntlet began to pick up a few bright gems, the same that were collected by the trolls previously and put it in his hand.

The dark pulsating gauntlet began to grow on his arm, even more, extending now to his elbow. Seeing the dark veins appearing on the rest of his arm, he did not care at all, as no one was able to truly damage their enemy. If their weapons did not straight out bounce off, they were damaged just by hitting his armor. Fine dwarven steel, forged by old and renowned blacksmiths, was already showing signs of being damaged.

”ARRRRRGH!” Not able to completely control himself, the large man began to shout his pain, as he picked up a blade on his waist. By now, the perfect cooperation between the shadows had managed to injure Ymir a bit, as the holes on his helmet were his only weakness. And if arrows could not go through, it did not mean nothing could. Disregarding large swords, they all had secret weapons, similar to needles, a few had very thin daggers and even a rapier, small enough to not be blocked. But the Akûl was not standing still expecting to be hit, as he used his impervious arms to block their attempts.

But by doing this, he covered a very large part of his vision, making him fall into a defensive posture. Even then, his four limbs still caused some injuries on the shadows that were too prone at aiming for his head. Because of this, he only used one of his hand to handle the Black Gauntlet, expecting the same outcome as previously. But to his surprise, the shock was strong enough to even shake him, making him almost falling.

Taking a glance at the black veins spreading on the arm of his opponent, he realized they had understood enough of it to be considered as dangerous. Using only his ears to deal with the pesky mosquitoes, he fully watched the only thing capable of harming him. And cursed him immediately for being so vicious. The fact was, Ymir was tall. Extremely tall. Above four meters tall. Meaning that even if his arms were also long, they could not go under this knees, forcing him to kneel a bit in case something was close to the ground.

But by doing this, his position could become unstable. If he received another punch like that, he would fall and be even more vulnerable. But this lowly scum was only attacking his legs, and even his feet if it was possible. Dodging with the lower half of his body, he began to completely wreck the City Hall, to not be annoyed by the other killers. The half-destroyed ceiling was the only reason why they could be so many at targeting his head. Without this, it would be a lot harder.

Realizing this, he began to slowly walk toward the plaza, an open ground where nothing could be used against him. Also, by now, it should have been encircled with all the liches available. Fortunately, no one was here to see him asking for help, only to deal with a few humans. On his way out, he felt a few bottles breaking on him, spreading some strange liquids. One was oil he was certain, as for the others, he had no idea. But because they were useless, he did not really care.

Even when they all were burning, it was just a minor inconvenient. In fact, it was almost helpful, as it prevented the shadows to attack from some fronts. As for the bearer of the black gauntlet, he could not catch up with the long legs of the demon. Byt the time he finally was in the open, he realized that the attacks had all stopped. Lowering his arms and finally having his entire sight available, he could not spot a single thing moving. Besides the crumbling City Hall.

Scratching his helmet, he noticed that something was off when the limb in question appeared in his vision. Looking at the small bomb attached to his armor, he barely had the time to protect his eyes before seven explosions resonated in the night. Cursing them even more for fighting this dirtily, he inspected his armor, only to find out it was not really that damaged. Praising Master Agnil for his masterpiece, he saw the undead assembled in the outskirts of the plaza.

Counting their numbers, he found out none of them had been killed. However, they also did not seem to have found any traces of the members of the Organization. Not even bothering to search for them, he dismissed all the undead and began to return to his castle. There, he found out Gwendoline that did not look really shocked. Ordering her to tell him everything she knew, he realized that even with this information, he had no idea what to do. Promising to rebuilt her building, he left her to look after Malakov.

That lich was still partially immersed into a small pond of blood, slowly reconstructing his body. Even now, the Akûl would prefer to hear his nasty remarks and witness his arrogant behavior than being in the dark like that. If he could slaughter countless warriors, he did not even manage to kill one of those assassins. The only reason he caught the first two was his surprise attack. As for how he knew about them, Malakov had awakened for a very short amount of time, just enough to control the bodyguard of that woman and hide it.

While he fought those elusive shadows, the best he achieved was hitting them with the tip of his fingers, but he could never grip them in his hands. Starring at his four limbs, he removed one gauntlet, wounding his hand to fill the pond even more. Seeing no reaction from the laying skeleton inside it, which still didn't have anything under his rib cage, he sighed. Sitting down near it, he watched through one of the windows and looked at the shining moon in the sky. Wondering where Leilade was and who she was killing at the moment.