Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God
384 Nothing Short
Dyon's demon generals had immediately picked up on the appearance of the Cavositas and Ragnor clansmen, but, they had ignored them. Their top priority was to stay centered around Dyon, lest others take this opportunity to do him harm.
The dark clouds continued to roll in the skies, still viciously spinning around Dyon's location. Mass earthquakes tore through the city, shaking the very foundation of everything that had been built. Even the Belmont family natural moat in the distance began to roll as waves threatened to cause large scale tsunamis to topple everything in existence.
And yet, right at the center, there was a boy a mere 18 years of age.
There was a reason so few focused on soul cultivation.
The truth was that no one had a clue about how much the soul impacted strength. Because in 100% of cases, until Dyon's anomaly, soul strength was lower than energy or body cultivation, the soul always acted as a supplementary powerup.
The Saeclum clan, the auxiliary clan of the Ragnor God Clan, used their soul as a power source for divination because of its innate connection with the world – a connection seen much easier with the soul as opposed to the body. They also used it to attack, but this attack took time and was very susceptible to damaging the user if you misjudged who you were facing. This was why Dyon had the habit of hiding his soul strength from very long ago.
But then, there were clans like the Elvin Kingdom families, or the Celestial Deer Sect, that made use of manifestations. In fact, manifestations might be rare in this universe, mostly because it was a technique kept for top flight clans and sects in the past, but in other universes, having a manifestation was a must.
However, the question still remained... Just how much more powerful did your soul make you? Why was it that Dyon's soul had been able to reach the peak of the Essence Gathering stages, and yet he could only fight on par with peak meridian formation experts at that time?
To many, the answer to this was that the soul was weak. In fact, many saw the soul's most useful function as a basis for learning wills and mastering formations and alchemy. But, although these things were important, was that really all there was to a soul? Why was it that despite Dyon's soul being so powerful, he was still so restricted in his ability?
These were answers even Dyon himself didn't know. And his grand teacher likely didn't know as well... After all, just what was the use in using the soul in any other way? No one had the talent Dyon did to make it worth it... He was blazing an unknown path and that path was already trying to kill him.
Dyon grit his teeth, focusing himself as he absorbed more and more saint energy. He wouldn't allow himself to give in. 'This has to work!'
Even as Livy left to do Voron's bidding, more and more people began converging on Dyon.
Members of the Niveus Sect appeared with Evelyn and a very old lady. She stood at maybe five feet tall and was hunched over while tightly gripping a white oak cane. Despite her age, Evelyn didn't help her at all as they walked through the skies, it seemed the old lady was still brimming with youth.
"Matriarch... Just, what is going on?"
The old lady didn't respond to Evelyn's question, instead deciding to ask one of her own. "Do you recognize this boy?"
Evelyn nodded. "He is the one who took Little Sister Delia away."
A flash of anger appeared on the old woman's features. "So he's the one who disrespected the Niveus Sect? Good. Let his cultivation run awry. Also, find that little wench. Ungrateful child."
The sinister flash disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind an unassuming old lady.
Soon, miscellaneous clans began to gather too. Even the Ragnor Clan auxiliary clans that had once fought against Dyon years ago came.
In the distance, a very familiar face stood. A girl with long brunette hair and red ruby eyes stood along side many other women with the same features. However, it seemed like many of them had misshapen noses, due in thanks to the techniques they practiced.
This girl was known to Dyon as simply Ipsum. But, she was a member of the Ipsum auxiliary clan for the Ragnor and had been among the 11 that fought Dyon at the Focus Academy Legacy World Opening. That said, she held a burning hatred for Dyon that couldn't be compared to the others... On that day, she had lost the love of her life and her future husband to be. And in her eyes, it was all Dyon's fault.
"Big Sister, he has to die." Ipsum trembled, staring daggers at Dyon's familiar face. Although she got a sick pleasure in watching his features twist in pain and his skin and bones crack under pressure, this wasn't enough to her.
"Little Rose, there's nothing to worry about." Rose's big sister wrapped her arms around her little sister. She was a genius of their clan and had long since mastered their technique to perfection, so, her nose was in a perfect state. "Even if he should survive this, his death is all but assured."
Rose nodded, tears brimming at the edge of her eyes as she remembered the death of Saeclum. Ivan Saeclum. Once a genius, but now nothing but a corpse in the ground. But, his and Rose's revenge was soon to come.
Iris Ipsum. She hadn't interacted with Dyon in the gates because she had been away on Planet Naiad like many other peak Essence Gathering geniuses – including many elves. Planet Naiad was home to the Clyte Royal God Clan and the Kami God Clan. Their relationship with Earth was the strongest which was why the Kami had many branch families here, and also how Head Patia-Neva, Delia's father, had come here from his home – Planet Naiad.
In fact, this was the very same planet Madeleine had been sent to by her master.
But, this wasn't going to be a homecoming for Dyon's wife... No. Iris Ipsum wanted nothing more than to tear Dyon apart for hurting her little sister. And her rank within the top 20, gave her the cache to dare to.
Top 20 on the cumulative rankings. Just what did it mean to be there? ...
It meant being nothing short of a top four expert of your planet.
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