Extra's Rise: I Stole All The Women In The Hero's Party-Chapter 156: BloodBath (II)

The shadowy tendrils collided with the glowing barriers — and hissed.

The protection spells flickered but held strong.

Zayn caught the change instantly.

He smirked, shifting his stance as he lunged forward, sword flashing in golden soul energy.

"No more running."

He sprinted up a shattered market stall, using it as a ramp, and leapt toward the Priest, blade pulled back in a powerful arc.

Midair, two shadow tendrils whipped at him.

Crack — !

He twisted, pushing off the tendrils with the flat of his blade.

His body spun like a wheel in the air, momentum sending him over the Priest’s head.

Zayn slashed downward during the fall, aiming for the masked bastard’s shoulder.

CLANG!

A barrier of darkness flared up, blocking his strike.

Zayn clicked his tongue as he flipped backward, landing gracefully on a toppled statue.

Bran took the opening.

With a roar, he charged, his axe bursting with blue soul energy.

The ground cracked under each step, rocks and debris flying.

The Priest sent a mass of shadow to intercept him.

But Bran didn’t slow down.

He threw his axe mid-charge like a spinning meteor.

The black mass reared up — and the spinning axe tore through it like butter, splitting it apart.

The weapon kept going, forcing the Priest to duck and raise another barrier hastily.

"NOW, KARA!" Zayn shouted.

From the left, Kara launched herself upward, carried by a pillar of stone magic.

At the peak of her jump, she spun her staff overhead, conjuring a jagged boulder the size of a wagon.

She slammed it down toward the Priest with a fierce cry.

The cult priest growled, releasing a pulse of dark energy that shattered the boulder in a rain of dust and pebbles.

But the distraction was enough.

Althea blinked into position with insane speed, using wind magic to boost herself.

Her blade gleamed silver as she struck, her thrust aimed straight at the Priest’s chest.

The Priest twisted at the last second, the blade grazing his side instead of running him through.

Blood sprayed — but it wasn’t normal blood.

It was thick, black, and sizzled where it hit the ground.

The Priest snarled beneath his mask and lashed out with both hands, sending a torrent of shadow outward like a tidal wave.

"Guard up!" Elisse screamed.

The protective barrier pulsed just in time, absorbing the brunt of the blast as the group was flung backward like leaves in a storm.

Zayn tumbled across the cobblestones, rolling to absorb the impact.

He skidded to a stop, breathing hard but grinning fiercely.

"This guy’s tougher than he looks."

Across the square, Bran pushed himself up with a growl. "No kidding!"

Kara coughed, wiping dust from her face. "His magic’s weakening, though!" freeweɓnovel.cѳm

Althea narrowed her eyes, blood dripping from a cut above her brow. "Good. Let’s break him."

The Priest stood in the center of the square, breathing heavily.

His robes were shredded and dark ichor leaked from multiple wounds.

His hands trembled — but he raised them anyway.

A massive glyph of black magic spread beneath his feet.

"Not today bro!" Zayn muttered and sprinted.

Shadow spears erupted from the glyph like a blooming flower of death.

They shot upward and then rained down across the battlefield in a deadly storm.

Zayn dodged and weaved, rolling beneath a falling spear, then sprinting up a broken column for height.

He vaulted off it, soaring through the air.

The Priest’s masked gaze snapped toward him.

Another wave of shadows surged toward Zayn midair — but Bran hurled his axe again with a roar, intercepting it.

Kara, too, unleashed a salvo of stone spikes from the ground, pinning the Priest’s feet for a split second.

That split second was all Zayn needed.

Sword flashing, he closed the distance and slashed.

The barrier snapped in protest — cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.

Zayn landed and spun, his sword singing as he unleashed a flurry of strikes in rapid succession, each of them laced with golden soul energy.

CRACK! CRACK!

Each hit weakened the barrier more.

The Priest shrieked in rage, channeling shadow energy into a concentrated lance aimed at Zayn’s heart.

Zayn grit his teeth.

It was too close...

FWOOSH!

A beam of pure light slammed into the lance from the side, dispersing it.

Elisse stood across the square, her staff glowing blindingly bright.

She winked at him.

"Finish it, Zayn!"

With a battle cry, Zayn kicked off the ground with everything he had, pouring soul energy into his legs.

His form blurred — and he struck.

His sword plunged into the Priest’s chest, piercing clean through.

The barrier shattered like glass.

The Priest gasped.

Black blood poured from his mouth.

His body jerked once — then collapsed backward into the cracked stones.

The square went silent save for the crackling remnants of magic fading into nothingness.

Bran retrieved his axe, twirling it once with a satisfied grunt.

Kara dropped to her knees, exhausted but grinning.

Elisse jogged over, immediately casting healing magic on the bruises and burns the group had accumulated.

Althea wiped her blade clean with a cloth, looking toward the crumpled body of the Cult Priest.

Black ichor dripped from Zayn’s sword, thick and sluggish like tar.

He stared at it for a moment, then casually wiped it against Elisse’s dress, she had just reached him to heal wounds.

"H-Hey!!" she shrieked, leaping back as if he’d thrown a bucket of insects on her.

She frantically brushed at the spot, face flushed with outrage.

Bran and Kara burst out laughing. Even Althea chuckled lightly behind her hand.

"That’s what you get for showing off your light magic like some holy goddess," Zayn said, grinning mischievously as he sheathed his sword.

Before the argument could escalate into Elisse chasing him with her staff, an adventurer sprinted over from the far end of the square, his armor dented and scratched but intact.

He saluted sharply. "All clear! No more cultists in the vicinity. Guild is secured!"

A collective sigh of relief swept through the battered adventurers.

Some collapsed to sit against the walls, others leaned on their weapons, exhausted but alive.

Zayn exhaled slowly, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying bleeding out of his muscles.

They had made it. For now, at least.

He turned back to the mangled body of the Cult Priest.

The man lay sprawled across the stones, the black ichor pooling around him.

His limbs were twisted at odd angles from where the force of Zayn’s strike had slammed him into the ground.

Zayn approached him with slow, deliberate steps.

"What are you doing?" Kara asked, frowning.

Zayn didn’t answer.

He lifted his foot and placed it firmly on the Priest’s head, pressing down.

The bones cracked audibly under the weight.

Blood if it could still be called that oozed out, mixing with the black ichor.

The others watched in stunned silence as Zayn ground his foot down harder, crushing the skull entirely with a sickening CRUNCH.

The body twitched once, then lay still forever.

Without missing a beat, Zayn crouched and grabbed the edge of the cultist’s shredded robe.

With one sharp tug, he tore it aside, exposing the dead man’s bare back.

Gasps echoed from the adventurers around them.

Branded onto the pale skin was a grotesque symbol: a half moon, jagged and asymmetrical, like it had been clawed into the flesh with molten iron.

The mark seemed to pulse faintly, even in death.

Zayn’s expression hardened.

He kicked the corpse away from him, sending it rolling limply across the bloodstained cobbles.

"Half Moon..." Bran muttered, voice dark. "So those rumors are true."

Kara’s face had paled considerably. "Demon lord fanatics with symbols of the moon on their clothes and bodies."

Zayn nodded grimly though he didn’t know when this had become "rumors", he would ask later.

"Yeah. It’s much more serious, really wish Tobias were here."

The others agreed and Zayn sighed, whether it was stress or relief, he didn’t know.

Zayn turned away from the corpse, shaking the blood and dust from his hands.

"Let’s go. We need to report this properly."

The others fell into step behind him without hesitation.

The walk back to the GUILD was strangely somber despite the victory.

The sun was setting now, casting long shadows across the broken market square.

The buildings still smoldered in places where stray magic had scorched them during the battle.

Bodies of both cultists and adventurers were being covered up by other guild members.

Survivors stood among the ruins, tending to the wounded, salvaging what they could.

It felt more like the aftermath of a battlefield than a town square.

Zayn kept his pace brisk, ignoring the ache in his muscles and the light throbbing in his skull.

He needed to stay focused. He needed to think ahead.

’Is this the usual butterfly effect that makes things happen before they were supposed to?’

He shook his head. No use worrying about that now.

They reached the GUILD just as the massive oak doors swung open for returning adventurers.

Inside, the place was chaos.

The injured filled every available bench and table. Healers rushed back and forth, casting spells, applying bandages.

Barkeeps were distributing water and supplies.