Path of the Forsaken Sigil

Chapter 46

The massive barrage of elemental arrows and spears hit the shield. They did not bounce off. They did not explode. 

When the red fire arrows and the blue ice spears touched the thick black smoke of the Seraph's wings, they simply sank into the darkness. It looked like throwing small stones into a deep, bottomless ocean. The elemental magic hissed for a split second, and then completely vanished. The Ashen Shield absorbed every single attack effortlessly. 

The guards in the plaza gasped in horror. Their strongest attacks had done absolutely nothing. 

Inside the dome of dark smoke, Bruce stood perfectly safe. The noise of the battle outside was muffled. 

Bruce closed his eyes. He listened to the heavy, steady beating of his own heart. 

He thought about the Golden Cell. He thought about his mother, Victoria, hanging from the burning chains of hard-light. He remembered how frail and thin she looked. He remembered the tears falling down her dirty cheeks. He remembered her screaming for him to run, sacrificing the very last drop of her life to save him. 

A deep, overwhelming wave of grief washed over Bruce. It was a sadness so heavy it felt like it could crush his chest. 

But Bruce did not let the grief break him. He let it change him. 

He took the sadness, the anger, the years of abuse, and the absolute heartbreak of leaving his mother behind, and he turned it all into fuel. 

"I will never be a victim again," Bruce whispered to himself. 

He channeled all of his powerful emotions directly into the Brand of the Void on his right shoulder. He pushed the soothing, stabilizing blue medicine from his cracked core into the brand as well. 

The brand flared to life. It glowed with a blinding, fierce purple and silver light. The light was so bright it shined right through his skin and muscle. 

Bruce opened his eyes. The silver fire in his pupils was no longer just a small glow. The silver flames spilled out, trailing like bright, smoky tears down his cheeks. He was completely overflowing with raw, unfiltered mana. 

He held out his good left hand. 

The thick black smoke from the Seraph’s wings swirled around his palm and solidified into the Blade of Lost Tears. The sword hummed with a dangerous, violent vibration. 

"The shield will not hold forever against the monster's physical attacks, Master," the Seraph’s voice echoed in the dark dome. 

"Drop the shield," Bruce commanded. His voice sounded different. It was cold, echoing with two overlapping tones—his own human voice, and the deep, terrifying rumble of the Void. "I do not need to hide anymore."

The Seraph folded its six wings, instantly dissolving the Ashen Shield into mist. 

Bruce stood in the open again. The rain washed over him. The purple light of his brand and the silver fire in his eyes made him look like a dark god of war. 

"Shoot him again!" a guard screamed, grabbing another spear. 

But Bruce did not wait for the next volley. 

Bruce charged. 

When he moved, the wet cobblestones beneath his feet literally exploded into dust. The LitRPG progression of his Void-Forged Body had completely adapted to the magic he had eaten earlier. His physical speed was no longer human. 

To the eyes of the Iron-Guard, Bruce simply vanished. 

"Where did he go?!" a soldier yelled, looking left and right wildly. 

Bruce reappeared directly in front of the soldier. 

The guard did not even have time to blink. Bruce swung the Blade of Lost Tears in a smooth, upward arc. 

The dark smoke-sword sliced cleanly through the thick silver-iron armor as if it were made of warm butter. 

Bruce’s free hand shot forward and grabbed the guard's chest plate. “Devour.”

The guard turned to gray ash in a fraction of a second. The man's magical energy rushed into Bruce’s core, fueling his impossible speed even more. 

Bruce did not stop. He became a streak of silver and purple light cutting through the heavy rain. 

He darted to the next group of guards. Three men tried to stab him with lightning spears at the same time. Bruce ducked under the first spear, moving so fast the wind of his passing blew the rain sideways. He spun like a dancer. His smoke-blade cut the wooden shafts of their spears in half. 

Bruce reached out with both hands, touching two guards at once. “Devour.” 

They crumbled to dust. He kicked the third guard in the chest, sending the man flying thirty feet through the air. Before the man even hit the ground, Bruce was already gone. 

"He's too fast! I can't track him!" the captain of the archers on the wall screamed in panic. He fired his crossbow blindly into the plaza, hoping to hit something. 

Bruce heard the twang of the crossbow string.