The big man laughed heartily to the sky, immensely pleased with himself for having severed the Blazing Current with a single sword stroke. "Hah! So much for your famous blade, broken by this granddaddy's scrap iron! Let this be a lesson to you youngsters! If you want to keep peddling this junk to fool people, you'd best make sure to avoid me, 'Mad Lion' Farrell!"
Farrell wasn't finished. "Let me make it crystal clear to you ignorant brats!" he roared. "This granddaddy isn't using some famed treasure sword!" With that, he pinched the sword's tip between two fingers and, with a *snap*, broke off a section.
The nobles and dignitaries still remaining in the hall began buzzing with discussion, their gazes towards the group of noble degenerates now filled with suspicion.
Rogue and his companions exchanged helpless looks. Farrell's Battle Aura was profound, his martial skills astounding, enabling him to snap a steel sword bare-handed. They all recognized that he had purely relied on channeling Battle Aura into the blade to sever the Blazing Current. In a simple contest of the weapons themselves, the Blazing Current was undoubtedly superior to that steel sword by untold measures. Franco gently flicked his sleeve, releasing a wave of cold air that extinguished the flames on the carpet, then stood frowning in silence. Kite suddenly let out a sigh. "I'm no match for him."
In a life-or-death struggle, they wouldn't be so hard-pressed. Farrell, with his hot temper and simple mind, wouldn't be difficult to deal with despite his high martial prowess. Time and again, the band of scoundrels had triumphed over stronger opponents by adhering to their eight-word mantra: outnumber the foe, fight dirty and underhanded. Keevey, Snow Fox Hart, Ian, and others had all fallen victim to this very principle. Although Rogue had glimpsed the fundamental laws governing the world's operation, significantly boosting his power, human capability has its limits. He would never, ever abandon this eight-word mantra.
The current difficulty lay in having to face this brute Farrell head-on, with real swords and genuine skill, without any tricks. If they couldn't suppress Farrell, the future business of the Hammer of the War God might as well be forgotten.
Gritting his teeth, Rogue bent down and picked up the fallen Blazing Current. He softly chanted an incantation. A halo rose from his feet and vanished above his head – the all-too-familiar "Bull's Strength" spell. Rogue slowly sank his consciousness into his spiritual world, sensing the surrounding magical energy continuously gathering and strangely combining around him, eventually forming specks of energy that entered his body, stimulating his nerves, strengthening his muscles, and causing his physical power to grow steadily from meager beginnings to formidable strength. He couldn't help but immerse himself in this magical world, his psychic power chasing after every bit of magical energy, probing their patterns of combination.
Farrell was still holding forth loudly. This time, even David seemed a bit exasperated, letting out a cold snort. Farrell immediately fell silent, as quiet as a cicada in winter, and didn't make another sound.
Rogue's psychic power expanded once more. Images of Mist Illusion's hand-axe and Fengyue's scythe flashed through his mind like lightning. His psychic power immediately extended into the Blazing Current, resonating with and chasing the fire mana sealed within it.
Rogue pointed the broken blade at Farrell and said calmly, "Chopping your own sword doesn't prove anything. Let's test it again. Let's see if the Hammer of the War God's blades are truly so useless."
Farrell stared at Rogue, looking him up and down, then spat. "So you're one of those who dabbles in both magic and martial arts? That makes you even less of a match for your granddaddy! If the Captain hadn't forbidden injuring anyone, I'd have cleaved you, you fatty, and your knife into two pieces with one stroke!"
Rogue's face reddened. He was a bit plump, sure, just a slightly thicker waistline. Where did this 'fatty' label come from?
The fat man didn't reply. He merely pointed the broken blade at Farrell and began taking deep breaths. The red glow on the Blazing Current pulsed in sync with his breathing, brightening and dimming.
Farrell gave a great shout, activating his full Battle Aura. A layer of aura light, over two inches thick, enveloped his body. The steel sword also lit up with a piercing blue radiance. He roared again and swung his sword down towards the Blazing Current.
Rogue's eyes snapped open, his pupils now completely silver. The Blazing Current met the strike with incredible speed; to those with slightly poorer cultivation, it appeared only as a drifting red band of light.
Blade and sword passed by each other silently.
Farrell broke out in a cold sweat. Seeing his steel sword completely unharmed, he immediately became smug, bursting into peals of wild laughter. "You little fat brat! Meeting your granddaddy today teaches you what a true expert is!"
As the words left his mouth, a series of *ding-ding-dang-dang* sounds rang out. The foremost foot of his sword blade shattered into four segments. Farrell's mouth hung open, speechless, utterly baffled as to how this had happened.
In that single instant, Rogue had struck Farrell's sword four times in rapid succession!
*Clap, clap, clap.* Applause sounded. The one clapping was David, still seated in his chair. Each clap seemed to slap Farrell across the face. David slowly stood up and said languidly, "Truly splendid! This four-hundred-mile journey was utterly worth it! I never expected to witness such martial skill and magic!"
Farrell's face flushed crimson, and he prepared to charge forward and fight to the death. He crouched, legs bent, ready to unleash his strength, but his body remained utterly motionless. Enraged, Farrell bellowed, "Which bastard dares to tug on your granddaddy's trouser leg!?"
He looked back and saw David smiling faintly, holding onto his belt. The gemstone on David's pinky ring now seemed to radiate an increasingly bone-chilling light.
With a wave of his hand, David tossed Farrell back into the midst of his own attendants. "It seems this Mr. Rogue has comprehended the essence of power," he said. "Even I wouldn't dare claim certain victory against him lightly. How could a reckless fool like you handle him? From today, Farrell, you are assigned to drive my carriage. When you've figured out the principle of 'the former wave dies on the beach,' you may resume your former position. Paxis is hereby reinstated as Cavalry Captain, effective immediately." Farrell, however, looked grateful, as if driving the carriage was some great honor.
Watching this, Rogue grew even more troubled. He couldn't gauge David's true abilities, and it seemed this man had a way with handling subordinates. Why was he so unlucky, inexplicably provoking such a formidable figure?
A grim-faced middle-aged man stepped forward from behind David. "Dealing with someone like this hardly requires your personal attention, sir. I am more than sufficient."
David smiled. "You handle all the daily affairs, leaving me no fun at all. Now that I've finally encountered someone who has truly comprehended power, even if his skill is still immature, I absolutely cannot yield him to you. If you keep nagging, return to my father's side!" The middle-aged man had no choice but to retreat.
David gestured with his hand. The broken sword flew into his palm, followed by the four severed blade segments, which flew up one by one and reattached themselves. He uttered a sharp command. A green flame ignited at the sword's hilt and raced along its length, extinguishing precisely at the tip. The steel sword was whole again, looking entirely undamaged.
As if time had frozen, the steel sword hung motionless in mid-air without the slightest tremor. Suddenly, a ripple appeared at the sword's tip, instantly spreading across the entire blade. A bright yet soft, radiant golden-yellow light erupted from the sword. The light was viscous and heavy, like a very dense and sticky liquid.
The light suddenly flared, the sword transforming into a yellow orb. Then the orb disintegrated, scattering piece by piece, leaving behind only a single…
Exquisitely enchanting forsythia flower!
An intangible wind blew past. The yellow petals fell away one by one, dissipating into countless points of light in the air. In the blink of an eye, the flower had completely withered, leaving behind a tiny pistil – which was the original steel longsword.
The onlookers, stunned by this dazzling display of swordsmanship, burst into fervent applause after a moment's delay. The noble degenerates, knowing they had encountered a true master today, wore ugly expressions. Rogue, however, remained motionless with closed eyes, his face ashen.
That forsythia flower wasn't an illusion, but a genuine Battle Aura blossom formed in an instant from countless sword strokes! Each of David's thrusts replayed in Rogue's mind as if in slow motion. With each thrust, Rogue's face grew paler. Finally, the Blazing Current fell from Rogue's hand.
Franco stepped forward and declared clearly, "Sir David, your high status and formidable martial skill are things we naturally cannot hope to match. But I truly wish to know, where have we offended you, that you must trouble our humble weapons shop so?"
"Ah? That?" David looked somewhat surprised. "Actually, I'm not here to cause trouble for you. I merely heard that this 'Hammer of the War God' was quite unique, and its owners were young, capable, and shrewd. I was delighted and came to take a look."
No one who heard these words believed them.
David gave a dry laugh. "Fine, it seems you don't believe me. Let me be direct. I've come to propose buying a fifty percent stake in the 'Hammer of the War God.' After the purchase, the management would still be handled by you gentlemen. As for the price… let's say five hundred thousand gold coins. What do you think?"
The hall erupted in an uproar. That sum implied the Hammer of the War God was valued at over a million gold coins – a fortune that could even ransom a small city during wartime! This David must be mad!
Internally, the noble degenerates also struggled immensely, sweat pouring down Rogue's plump face. But the Hammer of the War God was, for all intents and purposes, now Ophirock's asset. How could they sell off someone else's property? Both sides before them were forces they couldn't afford to offend. What were they to do?
While everyone was still wrestling with this dilemma, the Blazing Current on the floor suddenly flew up with a *whoosh* into someone's hand. The man was handsome and tall, with a head of golden hair that seemed to bounce, his face forever wearing a charming and composed smile. It was Ophirock.
Ophirock declared clearly, "My apologies! Regarding the 'Hammer of the War God,' I'm afraid I've already purchased it! Sir David, that sword stroke should rightly be met by me, the owner!"
In Ophirock's hand, the red flames of the Blazing Current had entirely transformed into a golden hue.
Elexis was still clad in a black gown, but a light veil now covered her face, concealing her peerless beauty. The usual black flames that wreathed her were nowhere to be seen. Behind Elexis followed four knights in Temple Knight attire – four of the Twelve Round Table Knights.
When David saw Ophirock enter, a glint of sharp light flashed in his eyes. Upon seeing Elexis, his gaze became even more fervent; the arrival of the four Temple Knights behind her made his expression turn somewhat grim.
The middle-aged man behind David snorted coldly. "The witch puts on a mysterious act!" He lightly stamped his foot.
A golden light flashed beneath Elexis's feet, clashing directly with the Battle Aura surging from below. The resulting blast of energy sent her black gown fluttering wildly, its exquisitely beautiful lines forever etched into the minds of the onlookers.
Furious, Elexis didn't waste words. She raised her hands in an elegant gesture, crossing them over her chest. Her snow-white fingers bloomed like lilies, and countless tiny golden points of light generated between them, swiftly forming a small whirlwind.
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!* Golden wind blades abruptly materialized around the middle-aged man. As the tiny golden stars merged into the small whirlwind between the lilies, these golden wind blades simultaneously formed a golden tornado over a man's height, trapping the middle-aged man within. Startled, the man unleashed his Battle Aura at full force. The collision with the golden tornado immediately sent violent winds radiating outwards. Those in the hall with insufficient skill, if accidentally grazed, were left with broken heads and bleeding faces.
Instantly, the hall descended into chaos. Cries of ghosts and howls of wolves filled the air, interspersed with several sharp, piercing shrieks from the ladies and madams!
Once the chaotic situation finally calmed down, the middle-aged man was drenched in blood. While the wounds weren't deep, they were numerous. Moreover, his clothes and cloak were utterly shredded. One young lady, catching a glimpse, couldn't suppress a scream of shock.
Farrell let out a great roar. "What bastards dare to mock your granddaddies?! Let me, Mad Lion Farrell, teach you some manners!" So saying, he drew a longsword – a blade like a pool of autumn water, radiating a chilling coldness – clearly his usual weapon – and prepared to charge forward.
Since Elexis had been insulted, the smile had long vanished from Ophirock's face. Farrell's reckless speech, showing no sense of proportion, had insulted the Duchy of Bavaria and even the royal family of the O-Hung Empire.
Rogue and the others saw an expression like frost on Ophirock's face for the first time.
The Golden Lion's golden hair stirred as if moved by an unfelt wind. He raised a hand and pointed at Farrell. A golden flame ignited on his fingertip. He uttered a low command: "Shatter!"
Farrell's longsword suddenly glowed with a golden radiance from tip to hilt. The entire sword grew brighter and brighter until, with a *Bang!*, it exploded into a shower of golden sand. Farrell spat blood, toppled backwards, and lost consciousness.
David stared at Ophirock, enunciating each word clearly: "The Golden Lion truly lives up to his reputation! My failure in disciplining my subordinate has troubled you to teach him a lesson. How is your esteemed father, Lord Reinhardt, lately? Ah, a superfluous question. With this divine miracle, everyone knows your father is chosen by destiny. How could he be anything but well?"
Ophirock replied indifferently, "There's no need for you to trouble yourself with that, Sir David. As for your subordinate, his words insulted both the Duchy and the O-Hung Empire's royal house. Even if I killed him on the spot, I doubt your father, Marshal Rocherio, would fault me. My father's lifelong loyalty and righteousness are known to all. While certain buffoons with ulterior motives spread rumors, it must be understood that my Golden Cross Battle Lance has never shown mercy to enemies."
David murmured "Golden Cross Battle Lance" twice, then laughed aloud, his demeanor recovering its usual suaveness. "They say Sir Ophirock is currently the most likely within the Church to advance to the Saint Knight realm, and that the Golden Cross Battle Lance has never yet known defeat. Moreover, this Lady Elexis, a woman of unparalleled grace and beauty, is also a mage of extraordinary power. With the support of the Church's Twelve Round Table Knights, such a combination is far beyond what our humble knight order can hope to match! We take our leave!"
Passing by Elexis, David gave the icy beauty a bow so standard it could be textbook. His already pleasant voice took on a hint of magnetism: "I will be staying in Riel City for a year, dedicated to educating those untalented knights under my command. I wonder if I might have the honor of inviting Lady Elexis to dinner sometime in the future?"
The fine eyebrows visible above Elexis's veil frowned disdainfully. "I'm afraid there will be no such opportunity!" she said coldly.
David laughed again. "No matter. My time in Riel City is long. There will always be opportunities."
As he passed Ophirock, David said softly, "In two months, my younger brother, Andre, will also come to Riel City. He has long desired to seek your advice." Ophirock's pupils contracted slightly, but he did not respond.
Seeing David and his retinue about to depart, Rogue hurriedly rushed forward to see them out. Although David's followers glared fiercely, with Ophirock present, Rogue wasn't overly concerned they would actually start a fight.
Rogue whispered a few words to David. David's step immediately faltered.
Rogue had said: "Regarding the purchase of the shop… could we discuss it further? Our humble establishment has another branch specializing in military-grade swords. While not magical equipment, the volume is large and the profits substantial, certainly no less than the Hammer of the War God's. Might you be interested? If you insist on the Hammer of the War God itself, perhaps this lowly one could try to persuade Lord Ophirock to relinquish a portion of his stake. Our own shares could also be partially transferred, though controlling interest would likely need to remain with Lord Ophirock."
David stared at Rogue, up and down. Apart from an obsequious smile, he could find not a single trace of a powerhouse's demeanor. He couldn't help but sigh deeply, also lowering his voice. "I truly don't understand how you managed to comprehend the essence of power. Has the gods' vision failed, or have powerhouses simply become cheap in this world? Ah, take care of yourself. With such greed for wealth, even if you've grasped the essence of power, your realm cannot be high."
David suddenly leaned in conspiratorially. "Let's make a deal. If I offered enough money, would you dare to sell Ophirock out to me?"
Rogue gave a sly grin. "My life is more important than money. That won't do. But for the right price, I do have some information regarding Elexis's whereabouts, preferences, and frequent haunts that I could part with!"
These two, mortal enemies moments before, now shared a look of mutual, cunning laughter.
Once David was in his carriage, one attendant ventured, "Sir, this Elexis… her origins are unclear. In these troubled times, it's best not to get involved with her." The man spoke cautiously, but David understood perfectly. He chuckled darkly. "Women are for playing with. Elexis is merely the most exquisite toy among them. I won't let her interfere with our greater plans."
Another suddenly said, "These youngsters are greedy for money and lust. Perhaps we could buy them over. It might aid our cause somewhat."
After a moment of silence, David's face turned frighteningly dark. He suddenly roared angrily, "Fools! If they could be bought so easily, do you think the Hammer of the War God would be what it is today? Moreover, the Duchy of Bavaria has been operating for nearly a century. How many hidden forces do they possess? With countless major tasks at hand, these youngsters aren't yet significant enough. They're more likely pawns put forward as targets. Why would we startle the snake? Hmph! Failing to see the bigger picture, focusing only on these immediate, trivial matters – isn't that the definition of shortsightedness?!"
The subordinates immediately fell as silent as cicadas in winter, not daring to make a sound.
David closed his eyes to rest, calming his anger, then said slowly, "These youngsters… in peaceful times, they might have been content with modest wealth and a quiet life in a corner. But in these turbulent times, they are like fish in water. Their current magic and martial arts are nothing to speak of, yet at such a young age, their minds are vicious, their considerations thorough, their actions decisive and without hesitation, and they are sufficiently base and shameless. If I had a few like them assisting me, I wouldn't be so exhausted, nor would I constantly be overshadowed by my elder brother. You lot, who think yourselves so clever and noble-born – if you truly fought them, you probably wouldn't even know how you died! Starting today, you have ten days. Each of you will read *The Prince*. In ten days, I will personally examine how much you've comprehended!"
He snorted, watching his subordinates' meek, compliant expressions, which only fueled his irritation. He sighed inwardly, *That Rogue is a talent. If he weren't so sufficiently greedy and lustful, I would have had to kill him this time, no matter what.*
Only after David's party had gone far away did the Hammer of the War God become lively again. The many thrilling events of this opening day made the nobles and dignitaries who had stayed till the end feel it was deeply worthwhile, providing ample material for future tea-time conversations.
Ophirock, Elexis, and Rogue's group went up to the third floor and sat down in the small lounge Mist Illusion had arranged. Ophirock looked around and praised, "Truly the style of a Master. Serene and natural, completely devoid of worldly airs. It seems the Master's realm has advanced further in recent years."
Mist Illusion poured tea for everyone and sighed. "I am old. I can no longer compare to you young people."
Elexis noticed the ring floating in mid-air and was immediately fascinated. She lightly raised her jade hand and pointed at the ring. It flew over on its own and slipped onto her slender finger. Elexis examined it repeatedly, carefully probing the magic attached to the ring. The more she looked, the more she adored it.
Lance coughed lightly and, almost instinctively, said, "Since the young lady likes this ring so much, it is our shop's honor. Furthermore, only a beauty such as yourself is worthy of this ring. We can offer a forty percent discount, just covering our costs. How does that sound? The price would be nine…" Lance's words were rapid and practiced, his thief's eyes fixed intently on Elexis. Suddenly realizing his mistake, he forcibly swallowed the price.
Elexis glared viciously at Lance. On one hand, Lance broke out in a cold sweat, unsure when Elexis might decide to 'discipline' him. On the other hand, being stared at made him feel elated, thinking inwardly, *Her looking at me like this is much better than her previous indifference. Perhaps there's even a little affection? Hahahaha!*
Lance's eyes grew vacant, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth – a truly repulsive sight. The other scoundrels, thick-skinned as they were, averted their faces, pretending not to know him. But in this small room with so few people, the pretense was rather obvious. Seeing no other way, Rogue quietly gathered his psychic power, plucking a tiny wood splinter from the corner of his chair. Focusing his will, he sharpened the splinter like a steel needle and stabbed it hard into Lance's backside.
"Yowww!" Lance let out a miserable cry, leaping to his feet. He frantically grabbed at his backside, pulling out a wooden splinter. Rubbing his butt, he grumbled resentfully, "What kind of lousy chair is this, not even sanded properly? Full of splinters! I told you before, what's the point of all this 'serene and natural' nonsense? A few proper rosewood, red-lacquered, gold-inlaid recliners are the way to go!" As he muttered, Mist Illusion emitted a fierce "Hmph!" from the side, startling Lance. Mist Illusion was currently the Hammer of the War God's cash cow, and Lance never offended the cash cow. Besides, that fool Ete was always hovering around Mist Illusion's granddaughter. If he offended Mist Illusion, Ete would surely come at him with that ridiculous greatsword of his. Speaking of Ete, his sword was a classic early Hammer of the War God product – flashy but impractical, yet absolutely essential for projecting his image as a master of both magic and martial arts.
"Hmph!" Elexis snorted coldly, making Lance jump again. He immediately adopted a defensive stance. "I seem to recall," Elexis said icily, "that Ophirock holds a fifty percent stake in the Hammer of the War God, correct? Meaning, half of this ring belongs to Ophirock. As for the remaining half… consider it an advance on the first month's dividends! He might take a small loss, but his house is vast and his business great; he won't mind. Ophirock, don't you agree?"
Under Elexis's murderous gaze, Ophirock smiled and said, "Exactly so!"
Rogue and the others were dumbfounded.
Only Lance applauded loudly, chiming in, "A fine item for a fine lady! Exactly as it should be! Ow!" He pulled another splinter from his backside, fuming, "What's going on today? Are these splinters flying around by themselves?!" He looked at each person in turn, but found only faces of innocence and saintly expressions. He had no choice but to let it go.
Ophirock drank a cup of tea, remained silent for a moment, then said, "This matter of the divine miracle, I assume you all know about it. Whether it brings fortune or calamity is still hard to predict. Soon, this Riel City may become a vortex of conflict. As individuals I recommended for positions in the Duchy, you will inevitably be drawn into these troubles. That David today is a person of significant background – the second son of Alliance Military Minister, Marshal Rocherio."
Ophirock paused, seeing the scoundrels listening intently, then continued, "In turbulent times, the primary way to preserve your life is to appear incompetent. Then you won't be seen as a threat and targeted. The second is to be flexible and adaptable. That goes without saying for you. The third is strength. Before absolute strength, all petty tricks become useless. This so-called strength takes many forms. Powerful magic and astounding martial skill are strength. Knowing people well and deploying them effectively, planning and strategy – that is also strength. Of course, numerical superiority, vast wealth, and high authority are also forms of strength. How you choose depends on yourselves. In a few days, I will ask my father to issue you a special license for trading military equipment. Make good use of it. That is all I have to say. Take care. Do you have any questions?"
Rogue pondered and asked, "David mentioned someone named Andre. What kind of person is he?"
Ophirock sighed. "That Andre is Marshal Rocherio's youngest son. He showed exceptional talent from childhood. At eight, he was recognized by the Starry Sky Sword Saint, Prothesis, and taken as his closed-door disciple. He trained arduously for fifteen years, and it's only recently that word of his mastery has spread. I'm not overly concerned about Andre himself, but the Prothesis behind him is the real headache." Having said this, Ophirock drained his teacup, stood up, and took his leave.
Elexis showed no intention whatsoever of taking off the ring.
The moon reached its zenith. Rogue, thoroughly exhausted, finally returned to his small house.
Though the night was deep, Rogue felt no sleepiness. He stoked the fireplace until it blazed, wrapped himself in a blanket, and sat quietly by the window, looking out at the slumbering Riel City. Eight years had passed since he left home and entered the Lyon Magic Academy. Scenes from those eight years now flashed before his eyes, especially since merging with the Necromancer. His originally quiet and uneventful life had abruptly become tumultuous and grand. Names like Ophirock, Elexis, Roderick, David Rocherio – once distant by ten thousand miles – were now, one after another, connected to his own.
And the mysterious Fengyue, the enigmatic Otherworld, the miracle-working angels, and the demons hiding in the shadows – all were utterly unrelated to his original world. His life was now much more exciting, but he was gradually losing control of his own destiny. As the great powers gathered like clouds, he was like an ant. A single misstep could see him crushed under a giant's foot. But how could an ant know when or where a giant's foot might fall? Perhaps the result of desperately fleeing would be to run directly under that very foot.
Keevey, Fela… one still among the living, the other already departed. They must hate me to the bone, right? Given the chance, they'd surely boil or fry me without hesitation. But the laborers certainly wouldn't let them. All along, it seemed he had just been scraping for money, scrambling for power, dallying with women. Muddling through, he had actually managed to acquire a modest fortune. They say evil receives its retribution. He certainly qualified as an evildoer, so why hadn't retribution come? Instead, his life kept getting better?
The cause and effect in this world were inherently unclear and inexplicable.
As Rogue was lost in these random thoughts, his heart suddenly stirred. He whirled around to see a skeleton standing behind him. The skeleton wore black robes, held a staff, and carried itself with a majestic, masterful bearing.
"Roderick?!" The fat man jumped in shock.
"Heh, heh." The Necromancer's characteristic deep laughter sounded directly in Rogue's mind. "Since you have glimpsed the fundamental laws governing this world's operation, how can you still fail to see through this simple illusion? The reason is simple: you are blinded by your own senses, by your own heart."
Rogue, still not recovered from the fright, asked, "Didn't we already merge? Why are you projecting this illusion again?"
"Child," Roderick's voice was desolate yet calm, "I originally thought soul fusion could allow me to evade the tracking of the Judgment Light and introduce a variable into this world's order. But the Judgment Light tracks the soul's imprint. That day, I hadn't anticipated the power of the Light Angel would be so immense. Subduing her took too long, so that by the time I took refuge in the Soul Orb, the Judgment Light had finally tracked my soul's imprint. After our fusion, deprived of the Soul Orb's protection, I no longer had sufficient power to resist the corrosive power of the Judgment Light. All this time, I have been trying to expel the power of the Judgment Light, but regrettably, I failed. So I chose separation. If our souls remained fused, the Judgment Light would purify us both."
Though a skeleton couldn't show expression, Rogue sensed Roderick giving a light, relaxed laugh.
"My child, this separation takes only the soul's imprint, so it will not affect your power in any way. Every Grand Necromancer is a master of manipulating souls. This, perhaps, is the primary reason the God Clan hunts Necromancers. Child, my time is short, but there are things I must leave you. Let me ask you, what is power?"
Rogue recalled David's sword technique, the blossoming spring flower. He extended his index finger. In an instant, the shifting shadows of his finger conjured a tiny, illusory skull.