Chapter 180 (1/2)

Helen snorted, raising her blood covered spear. The large man, who was so lustily looking at her body minutes ago, had collapsed in a puddle of his own blood, the large wounds that Helen inflicted on him completely robbing him of his will to fight.

Unbeknownst to that man, Helen too was very close to her limit. She felt a creeping weakness in her limbs, likely an aftereffect from creating the new move for her Skillset. But even though standing without the support of her spear was difficult, she was filled with a manic excitement. To improve a Skill Set’s rarity was exceptionally rare. Usually an individual would create the Skill Set while they were young, train for years, and only once their body had a significant enough amount of pure Aether embedded in it would they enter an isolation chamber and cause their Skill Set to evolve. But of course, Helen hadn’t done that.

She had simply consumed that small ball of Aether that the Ghosthound had left inside of her. It made her surprisingly hot and cold at the same time. She was strangely turned on by the prospect of some fraction of him remaining inside of her, but cold because what it meant about the Ghosthound, and the purity of the Aether that he had inside of him already. Where did all that Aether come from…?

Not only had she increased the rarity of the Skill Set, but she had also added a move, which was more common, but the two combined made it that much more likely to be successful in the future. Hell, if people knew she possessed this level of Skill Set, and if she was a talented teacher, Helen could probably create her own Style with a nice amount of success, especially in an area like Qtal.

But that was for later. For now, Helen looked around. Teliph was wounded, but the wispy man was worse, and their attacks were growing increasingly sharp and desperate. The male spear attendant was still getting beat to shit by the two female twins, but it seemed that their attacks were getting shallower and shallower…

Or…. if it wasn’t just Helen’s imagination… his created skill was becoming increasingly powerful and sharp, the more he was abused. He seemed to thrive on it, to which Helen felt no small amount of disgust. But she supposed she shouldn’t complain that the fool was finally finding some measure of strength for himself. Less weight for Teliph and herself to carry.

Helen, almost unwillingly turned her attention to the fight that was centerstage: with Divveltian behind him, glaring over at the woman with long sleeves, the Ghosthound clashed against the man called Jacktat.

Although Divveltian had no trouble smashing Jacktat and his group to the ground, it seemed that the Artisan owned by the Merchant Association wasn’t a pushover. As Helen watched, the air around the man seemed to ripple, and Helen paled. This was it. The strength that could suppress others below the Artisan level. Why the categories had more meaning than just honor. It was a demarcation.

As Helen watched, bolts of lightning began to gather and spin around Jacktat’s spear, becoming increasingly dense and crystal clear, losing the ethereal quality of an image, and seeming to become reality.

“I have no quarrel with you, but… You do not know your own strength. Prepare to die to your own foolishness.” Jacktat intoned. Then he spun his spear lazily for a second, and then rushed forward, moving so quickly that he seemed to blur.

To her surprise, the Ghosthound simply stood there, then he glanced meaningfully side to side. The female twins were brutalizing the male spear attendant, but they were far away. Teliph and the wispy man were on the opposite side, near the stairway down to the cabins.

There was much space around them. The Ghosthound had nowhere to run to. Strangely, Helen became strangely relieved. Because that was not the face of a man who feared the future.

The Ghosthound smiled wickedly, raising the huge obsidian monstrosity that he so easily manipulated like a light spear. Roots sprung into existence around Jacktat, moving incredibly fast, whipping up and grasping his limbs, holding him still. But Jacktat just roared, ripping through them.

The Ghoshound accelerated forward, moving to meet Jacktat, who was still wreathed in lightning.

“Fool! Sky Breaker!” Storm clouds swirled above the two battling individuals, and a thick bolt smashed downward, hitting the tip of Jacktat’s spear, which began to crackle. Humming with power, Jacktat slashed forward towards the Ghosthound’s figure.

But the Ghosthound excelled at handling direct attacks. He surged forward in a burst of speed, then seemed to melt away like an ice sculpture on a hot beach, appearing on the other side of Jacktat’s spear.

Jacktat hissed, but the spear, still bursting with power, reversed direction and swept over towards the Ghosthound, who was now cutting down towards Jacktat’s forearm. Jacktat’s face contorted into a grin.

“Competing in speed? Hehe, well- huh!??”

And Helen gasped too, because the Ghosthound’s spear seemed to teleport forward a short distance, and then ripped downwards into Jacktat’s arm, cutting to the bone and dislodging that arm’s grip on the spear.

“You!”

But by the time Jacktat had recovered, the Ghosthound faded backwards, creating some distance. Jacktat’s eyes bulged, but then now seemed to have heavy, dark bags under them, as if this long fight with the Ghosthound was exceptionally trying.