Chapter 1190: Claws of the Conqueror

Kraken could tell Orion was being sincere, not just joking around. But the way he said it… it sounded like the biggest flex he’d ever heard.

Orion didn’t say another word. He let his Curse Avatar phase out from his body. An overwhelming wave of demigod pressure slammed into Kraken, nearly buckling his knees and forcing him to the ground.

“I… I… holy shit. You… you… you hit demigod?” Kraken stuttered, pointing a trembling finger at Orion, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Orion just smiled and retracted the Curse Avatar.

As the oppressive aura vanished, Kraken felt the world right itself. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hulk, what the hell is going on? Did you really rank up to demigod?” The disbelief in his voice was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Orion shook his head, letting Kraken stew in his own awe for a moment before speaking. “You know my situation better than anyone. With my current foundation, there’s no way I could break through to demigod this quickly.”

“Then what was that?” Kraken jabbed a tentacle toward Orion’s chest, the meaning obvious.

“Just a special avatar. A particularly strong one.”

“Avatar? A demigod avatar? You’re telling me that was just an avatar?”

“You think?”

Okay, even if it was just an avatar, Kraken was still feeling seriously outclassed.

Orion just shook his head again with a slight smile, offering no further explanation. The truth is, he was pretty much on the mark, Orion thought. Even after conquering three Godforsaken Lands and carving out my own chunk of the sixth layer of the Abyss, I’ll still need more time to build the foundation for a true demigod ascension.

He wasn’t lying about the Curse Avatar, though. Its power and aura were undeniably demigod-level. But it wasn’t a true demigod. The power and the universal laws it commanded didn’t belong to him. They were stripped from the unknown entity sealed by the giant(titan) god.

It was like the sealed being was a warrior clad in a magnificent suit of divine armor. All Orion had done, with the giant god’s help, was pry off a single scale. He could use that scale, wield its power directly. But if he wanted a full suit of his own, he’d have to forge it himself or continue to rip more pieces from the original owner.

That was why he’d had to absorb the Witch’s Fallen Angel avatar. To strengthen the Curse Avatar, he needed to constantly consume the essence of powerful bloodlines and spread its corrupting influence. It was the only way it could grow. It couldn’t be trained or cultivated; it could only conquer and consume.

It took a full minute for Kraken to process this. When he finally did, his face split into a manic grin.

“Hahahaha! Hulk! With a demigod avatar… bro, we can go on an absolute rampage! We can loot everything!” He threw an arm around Orion’s shoulders, his eyes glittering with a thousand greedy, glorious schemes.

“Since you’ve got demigod-level firepower, forget this world! We can invade other Godforsaken Lands! We can hit servers that don’t have any demigods. You and me, a joint operation. You take the land, I take the seas. How sweet would that be?”

Orion nodded, then shook his head. He’d had the exact same thought. But the timing was wrong. Now that he had this power, he couldn’t just stand by during the critical fight against the traitors and the Cult of Four in the Silverwood Realm.

Before, he didn’t have the juice to make a difference. Now, he did. He had started this war, and he had to see it through. Even though his allies from the Champions Alliance had jumped in without hesitation, the initial spark had come from him.

“You start gathering coordinates for other Godforsaken Lands and unclaimed worlds,” Orion said. “Once things here are wrapped up, we’ll team up and start farming the resources we need to make our own push for demigod.” And when that time came, he planned on bringing his own apprentices along for the ride.

“Hahaha, you got it! I’ve got nothing but time anyway. Leave it to me!” Kraken agreed instantly.

Orion gave him a final, more detailed briefing on the current state of the Silverwood Realm, then turned and vanished, leaving Kraken alone on the Gilded Strand.

***

Godforsaken Land, The Sea of Sand.

The windswept dunes of the Zephyrwind Wastes saw the arrival of outsiders. They were outsiders because even the native Pilanti people were not originally from this place.

The sea of sand had been acquired by the high-tower mage, Faraday, who had cashed in every favor and all the resources at his disposal to trade for it from some mysterious, powerful faction. He did it for one reason: the land held the Desert’s Authority, a unique elemental power said to be a key to ascending to the demigod level.

In truth, the sea of sand didn’t truly belong to him. His lease was for a mere five hundred years—a crucial detail his disciple, Novat, was completely unaware of.

At this moment, Novat was riding atop a massive sand-skiff, staring out at the horizonless desert, feeling utterly adrift. It was a debilitating cocktail of powerlessness and boredom. The desert was so vast and empty that if anything were to happen, you’d see it from miles away. But nothing ever did. The Zephyrwind Wastes were so silent that time and space themselves seemed to have frozen. There wasn’t so much as a desert mouse in sight.

“This damn desert. Monotonous, soul-crushing, just endless sand,” one of the guards standing behind Novat muttered. They were his personal protectors, the only people here he considered his own. “Boss, you think we’ll ever get out of this sandbox?”

“Pah!” Novat spat a mouthful of grit that had worked its way past his scarf. He scanned the infinite dunes, then raised his voice, shouting his orders with the weary tone of someone going through the motions.

“Alright, listen up! We’re making camp here! Setting up for a three-day stay! Let the Gold-Horned Vipers loose! Let ’em stretch their coils!”

He might be bored out of his mind, but Novat wasn’t an idiot. The dozen Alpha-level Gold-Horned Vipers that pulled the skiff weren’t just being let out to play. Releasing them served two purposes: letting them hunt for whatever scarce prey might exist, and more importantly, acting as living tripwires for any unseen dangers.

Once the camp was in motion, Novat lowered his voice, speaking only to his two guards. “Go back? Go back to what? I’m not an archlord yet, and you two haven’t hit Legendary level. You want to go back just to be pushed around and exploited by the same old bastards?”

He looked out at the wasteland again. “This sea of sand might be boring as hell, and poor as dirt, but at least it’s quiet. And with the mentor watching over this place, all we have to do is manage the slaves and the livestock. We eat, we drink… it’s not the worst life.”