Bloody Odyssey

Chapter 97 97: The 5th Apostle Of Blood

The night air hung thick with the metallic stench of blood and choking dust. Every breath scraped the lungs like shards of glass.

Kakarai circled high above the shattered ruins like a vengeful ghost unbound by mortal laws. His movements were wrong—twisted, unnatural, defying physics itself. Black hair streamed behind him like living smoke, writhing and coiling in the wind. His eyes were bottomless voids, empty pits that had witnessed every horror the world could offer and remembered each one with perfect, terrible clarity.

"Vos…"

The word slipped from his lips like a prayer soaked in venom, heavy with religious madness.

He no-clipped.

One moment he drifted in the air. The next, he materialized directly behind the Fifth Apostle, blade already descending with ravenous hunger. The edge tore into the elder's shoulder, not deep enough to sever the limb, but enough to rip a guttural grunt from the Apostle's throat and spray dark blood across the rubble.

The Apostle staggered forward, clutching the wound.

Nadia moved like a force of nature given form.

Moonlight poured over her—silver, cold, and radiant. The instant it touched her skin, light itself answered. Particles bent toward her from every direction, streaming into her body like moths to an inferno, awakening the dormant power sleeping beneath her flesh.

She became faster than thought.

She appeared in front of the Fifth Apostle, broken blade already mid-swing, fully committed to murder.

Crack!

Steel met steel. The Apostle barely blocked. The force of the impact drove his feet backward through the rubble, carving deep trenches into broken stone.

Nadia did not pause. Not for a heartbeat.

She struck again. And again. And again.

Each blow was precise, merciless, and surgical. She targeted the gaps in his armor, the soft flesh between plates, the vulnerable pulse of his throat. Her broken blade sang through the air as she layered deadly enchantments in whispered fury. Spells reinforced her weapon, her body, and her unyielding will. She became a living storm of golden light and silver steel—beautiful beyond words, yet utterly terrifying.

The Fifth Apostle was forced to retreat, his face twisted in a mask of rage and pain.

Kakarai followed like a shadow born from madness itself.

He no-clipped through space and reason once more, appearing behind the elder. His blade drove deep into the Apostle's back, missing the heart by a razor's edge.

The elder roared in agony. Kakarai's smile stretched into something feral and unhinged.

Together, they fought like predators who had finally cornered worthy prey.

Nadia was grace and lethal precision. Even in chaos, her movements flowed with deadly elegance. Her broken blade found flesh again and again. She ducked beneath a savage swing, spun gracefully past his guard, and opened a deep gash across his ribs. Fresh blood painted the night.

Kakarai was pure brutality—unpredictable, savage, and fundamentally wrong. He phased through a desperate counterattack, appeared directly above the Apostle, and drove his heel into the elder's skull with bone-cracking force. The Apostle stumbled, dazed.

Nadia was already there.

Her blade flashed.

It sliced clean across his throat.

The Fifth Apostle's eyes widened in shock. His hands flew to his neck, desperately trying to hold the wound together, but it was too deep. Too clean. Too final.

He collapsed.

The ground trembled as his heavy body slammed into the rubble.

Kakarai landed lightly beside the corpse, chest heaving, his manic grin wide with vicious joy. He raised his blade high, ready to drive it down and shatter the skull completely.

Clang!

The sound was not flesh or bone.

It was metal.

Kakarai's smile faltered for the first time that night.

Nadia gripped her broken blade tighter, eyes narrowing. What rank is this monster?

Before either of them could press the attack, a voice thundered across the ruins.

"Enough!"

The sheer force of the command blasted both Nadia and Kakarai backward through the air like ragdolls.

Nadia's blood ran cold. She couldn't sense his level at all. The power gap was overwhelming— the kind that only existed when facing absolute superiority.

Odama.

The Fifth Apostle slowly rose, rolling his neck with a sickening crack. A cruel, delighted smile spread across his blood-smeared face. His eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure, as if the pain they had inflicted only sweetened his amusement.

"Bingo," he purred, voice dripping with mockery and venom. "You two actually managed to entertain me for a few seconds. How adorable. I almost feel bad for what comes next."

He turned and fled without hesitation, but not before unleashing hell. With terrifying speed, he carved through every guard and civilian still breathing, laughing as he tore them apart. Limbs flew. Blood sprayed in wide arcs. He deliberately slowed his strikes on some victims, savoring their screams and the terror in their eyes before ending them.

A trail of carnage and agony followed in his wake.

Nadia and Kakarai gave chase immediately.

Alfonzo spun toward his men, voice sharp with urgency. "Sir Wolf, report this to the clan at once! It's spiraling out of control."

He would hold the line here and then reinforce the pursuit. The guards would try to stop the monster and learn the depth of their own weakness the hard way.

The Sacred Wolf stood silently among the ruins, watching the small boy who hated everything with a quiet, unreadable gaze.

The Apostle moved with terrible speed, empowered by the fresh blood he had stolen. Carnage rained across the streets.

Captain Ever Sword stood firm in the middle of the road, sword drawn, determined to halt the slaughter. The Apostle smiled at him like a predator that had found a particularly juicy piece of meat.

Ever Sword clenched his teeth, eyes resolute. "It's my duty."

"O evil wind that blew on the first day of judgement, bless my blade with the power to cut through death."

Heavenly Tornado.

In one lightning-fast motion, Ever Sword drew and sheathed his blade.

The Apostle reached him before the captain even realized anything was wrong. A brutal stab punched straight through his chest. Blood flooded Ever Sword's mouth, but beneath the agony, a faint, defiant smile formed.

Caught you.

Then the wind exploded outward.

It was like the final breath of a dying civilization—violent, merciless, apocalyptic. Organs and gore burst from the wound in a gruesome tornado.

Ever Sword fell limp to the ground.

If he had lived long enough to see what happened next, the shock alone might have killed him first.