Damon's Ascension-Chapter 84: Tribal War 2

Damon shook his head. This was too easy, but only because the real siege hadn’t begun. The enemy seemed to come to the same conclusion, as more warriors surged toward him with renewed fury.

One of them swung a massive war club that could smash the brains in of a modern soldier. Damon leaned back just enough to let it miss by inches, then shot forward with his palm striking the warrior’s chin with so much force that his jaw just snapped off.

Another raised his musket for a point-blank shot, which would have hit if Damon did not utilize his Probability Manipulation to alter the chances of a successful firing.

The gunpowder misfired, something that matchlocks of that era were already famous for, and Probability Manipulation just made it more likely.

The weapon exploded in the soldier’s hands, blowing off his fingers and his entire palm. He barely had time to scream before Damon plunged a blade into his eye socket and ended his misery.

A massive warrior, larger than the rest and nearly double Damon’s body weight, tried to crush him with a downward strike from a two-handed sword.

Damon sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it with an unnatural amount of strength that belied his figure, causing the bones in the arm of his victim to shatter like glass.

The warrior howled in agony, never having experienced such pain in his life. Damon didn’t let him fall, rather using him as a human shield as another musket fired, the bullet piercing the mini-giant’s back instead of Damon’s chest.

He carelessly shoved the corpse forward, crashing into another soldier and knocking him off balance. Before the man could recover, Damon accelerated forward, stabbing his fingers into his throat and tearing out his windpipe.

The battlefield was descending into pure chaos as the Ga warriors around him were stunned. What the hell was this monster and when did we summon him?

Damon did not care, this was not real history, and nothing he did here would change anything, especially since he was not fighting for them. He was here to kill, to harvest Worldly Essence, and these so-called allies were not off the chopping block either.

If he had the strength to take down an army on his own, he would treat them no differently than a gamer facing mobs, just clusters of walking EXP points, packaged differently.

The Ashanti commanders were starting to notice the disruption on Damon’s side of the battlefield. Orders were given out and hundreds of muskets were being aimed at him.

Damon smiled slightly, eyes glowing fully silver. "Let’s see you try."

The crackling sound of matchlocks being prepped was almost chilling, if Damon had the stats of an average person. With his current prowess, however, it was much akin to a joke for him to take such weaponry seriously.

A line of Ashanti gunners who were well-trained and notoriously accurate gathered up to take formation. Over a hundred of them leveled their weapons in eerie unison while Damon stood tall in the middle of corpses, the blood on his hands not yet dried, his expression calm.

His silvery-brown eyes pulsed once, then dimmed.

BANG!

The volley fired.

A moment before the lead storm hit, Damon stomped his foot and activated the time domain, forcing things within a range of 10 meters of him to be slowed down severely.

Using that advantage, the young man dashed into the hail of bullets, carefully weaving through them with a calm smile as his gaze never left the firing line that sent the volley out.

Accelerating at his fastest speed, he appeared behind the firing line before most of them had even started reloading, many of them not even realizing that he had disappeared.

The first musketman never knew what hit him as Damon placed a hand on the fellow’s chest and siphoned out all his energy in a single instant, turning the man into a dry, husked corpse that collapsed.

Two more turned in horror, only to have their skulls cracked together with a sickening crunch, their heads dangling unnaturally as Damon flung their bodies aside.

"Reload! Reload!!" Someone screamed.

Damon blasted through the ranks, a blur of silver—from moonlight—and red—from all the blood trailing him.

During his charge, Damon swiped a bayonet off one man’s belt and twisted it in a reverse grip, driving it upward through the underside of another man’s jaw, pinning the fellow’s tongue to his skull.

He didn’t stop moving even after this and every time his hand made contact with flesh, someone screamed. Every time he passed by another person, someone died in a painful and gory way that definitely was not encouraging to look at.

One warrior attempted to club him from behind—again—but Damon activated his Probability Manipulation and adjusted the chances of the man’s footing slipping, causing the action, which had an already high chance, to almost come into effect.

The fellow stumbled ever so slightly on a blood-slick patch of grass and Damon punished him for it as he shattered the fellow’s cheekbone with a backhand and sent teeth spraying like seeds into the air.

He was now at 23 confirmed kills, the highest in the battle that had only gone on for slightly over a minute or two, a fearsome killing rate.

Precisely because of this, another wave of warriors—this time being elite Ashanti halberdiers—charged in to reinforce the line and take him down. Their numbers were enough that Damon could feel the pressure now.

A halberd slashed toward him in a vicious horizontal arc that forced Damon to duck and spin, pushing his palm upward from a crouched position that struck the circular top of the halberd, shoving the entire weapon’s shaft upward and lodging the blade into its owner’s jaw.

Three more halberds came swinging down in succession, none of the warriors deterred nor were they willing to line up one by one to be killed.

In response to the combo attack, Damon crouched and slid beneath the blades, rising in the center of the group with a vertical palm strike that shattered ribs and caved in a sternum of one of the fellows.

A hand immediately grabbed his leg as one of the burlier warriors aimed to lift him up and toss him deeper into Ashanti lines to be torn apart.

Damon naturally rewarded the audacity with a heel to the face that caved in the man’s eye sockets and left the skull fractured, part of the brain matter exploding outward from the back and spraying the other warriors rushing to strike him down.

Moonlight shimmered unnaturally despite the blazing sun overhead, and for a split second, time felt slower to Damon. In that moment, Damon saw the trajectory of incoming reinforcements, the powder bags at the back of the supply lines, and even a senior commander shouting orders from a ridge.

He raised one finger, eyes glowing silver once more. "Let’s raise the body count." fгeewebnovёl.com

He vanished from the perception of the warriors surrounding him, seemingly reappearing above the supply line in an instant, using a blend of time domain acceleration and sensory suppression.

The enemy captain looked upward at the last moment, his expression changing rapidly as he tried to unsheathe his cutlass to respond.

Damon landed like a thunderclap as his accumulated kinetic force from accelerated time was unleashed, causing all the warriors here to be rendered stunned. Damon then walked forward and plunged his fist through the captain’s chest, tearing out a still-beating heart that disintegrated in his palm as Devour activated again.

The powder kegs were only a few feet away, causing Damon to smile.

He walked over and carried them one by one, tossing them down towards the thickest throngs of Ashanti troops that were battling the Ga warriors on the field.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the ground in their small area, the sound causing many to become dizzy and clutch their ears in horror.

Flames and smoke engulfed the landing area of the powder keg, blasting bodies into the air and scattering troops in every direction. Shrapnel tore through the elite units trying to flank him, allowing his kill count to surge instantly as dozens of bodies were caught in the blast.

"You bloody land demon! Die!" A brave warrior rushed up from behind Damon with a raised spear, trying to impale him in the heart from behind and end this superhuman threat.

Damon sidestepped the charge and let the fellow pass by him, swinging his hand to the side as a blade of ice formed from the edge of his wrist and lengthened outward, its blade’s edge as thin as a cicada’s wings.

The warrior’s charge only continued for a few more steps before his body fell to the ground, his head flying upwards as a fountain of blood spurted from his neck, his expression twisted into one of fear and regret.

Damon looked at a quickly approaching contingent of troops, including the halberdiers he had shakem off earlier, and sighed with lament.

So many sources of Worldly Essence... could he really harvest them all without letting any go to waste?