Gun of Ashes

Chapter 845 64: Warrior (2)

Just now, Ivar was still mocking the emptiness of the God Odin, but somehow, his voice now became reverent.

"He said I am a pitiful person, that if my father truly loved me, he should have strangled me in the cradle."

The sound gradually came closer, and Cornel abruptly turned the direction of the gun, but there was only void and darkness, and he couldn't see Ivar.

"Hebdo also thought I was pitiful, so he tried to help me. The process was painful and terrible, but I am indeed very grateful to him. He is my best friend."

Something was creeping in the darkness, and Cornel fired without hesitation.

The muzzle's flash briefly lit up the darkness, and although only for a moment, Cornel saw too much in that instant.

He wasn't sure if that person was Ivar. He only saw him disheveled, crawling on the ground like a beast, and at the last moment of the extinguished flame, Cornel heard the sound of blood spraying. He wasn't sure if he had hit Ivar and could only quickly change his position after the shot.

Cornel could no longer see, and after a brief loss of focus, intense pain came from his forehead, with a wound blossoming there, and blood soaked into his eyes.

"Ivar!"

He clutched the wound and retreated, utterly unsure how Ivar did it.

This time, the voice rang out directly from in front of him.

"Many years ago, Hebdo suddenly told me, this is not a solution, since I survived, I can't let the God Odin lose face, right...

He asked if I was interested in trying to feel what it was like to stand; he said standing felt great."

Cornel wiped away the blood and saw Ivar.

It was an eerily indescribable scene. Ivar knelt before him, but as his voice rang out, the muscles under his pale skin twisted and wriggled like serpents. He gripped the steel twisted in the explosion with both hands, ignoring the pain in his palm, and slowly propped himself up.

Cornel saw his shriveled, withered feet, but now they seemed to have steel embedded within them, twisting strangely at the ankles, as the knees strained, making the deformity even more bizarre, and the entire withered foot turned inside out, supported entirely by the bones beneath the flesh.

Holding the steel like thorns, using it as a cane, then the first foot stood firm... no, Cornel didn't know if those twisted, deformed limbs could still be considered "feet," but as he saw it, Ivar slowly stood up.

His entire muscles twitched eerily due to the deformity of his feet, and the way he exerted force was different from ordinary people; even words like beast seemed inadequate to describe him.

"Standing feels so great..."

Beneath his disheveled hair lay a pair of terrifying eyes.

Ivar stood up, after years of training with Hebdo, he could rely on his whole body's muscles to stand temporarily.

This was what Hebdo taught him, and the reason was simple; if Ivar could stand, then he was a warrior, thus he could die standing and go to the sacred Heroic Spirit Hall after death.

His body maintained a bizarre balance, then he smiled at Cornel.

"I'm sorry, I made a mistake and must be punished. I betrayed the honor of my family, so I should pay the price."

Ivar seemed to be speaking to Cornel, or perhaps to someone not there.

"Hebdo is my good friend. It was just too cruel for my father to have him kill me, wasn't it?"

Contrary to Cornel's thoughts, Ivar was unaware of the King of the Ice Sea's conspiracy, but very aware of his father and his father's actions towards a captive like himself.

Ivar would die as a sacrifice for war, then the Viking nations would avenge him by raiding warm lands, where Ivar's crimes would be revealed, this was the mercy of the King of the Ice Sea, and also his cruelty.

"It's too cruel to let Hebdo kill me, I cannot die by his hand."

He slowly raised the twisted steel in his hand, where fresh red blood flowed, its sharp tip aimed at Cornel.

"So... send me to the Heroic Spirit Hall, Cornel Garrell."

The voice held a sense of melancholy mixed with joy, and the candlelight outlined Ivar's thin silhouette, covered with wounds, blood escaping his body.

"You madman."

Cornel could only muster these words.

Ivar bent down, crawling on all fours like a beast, swiftly approaching Cornel, his speed was so fast that as he was about to touch him, he forcefully stood on his deformed feet and swung the deadly steel.

Simultaneously, gunshots rang out, bullets grazing past Ivar's cheek, but he seemed oblivious to them, his eyes never shifting.

The steel struck down viciously, it wasn't any blade, just something Ivar picked up after the explosion, barely usable as a weapon, but not strong enough, only able to slash flesh.

Cornel rolled in the pool of blood, barely dodging the strike, he lifted his head in a woeful state, only to see that nightmare-like figure never ceasing.

Ivar Rodbrock was a warrior.

He exhaled turbid and hot breaths, his twisted ankles inching forward.

A rumble sounded from one side, and guards burst through the accumulated debris, bloodthirsty eyes aimed to kill Ivar.

During Cornel's unconsciousness, Ivar had already fought with the guards, and relying on the blast's impact, he accurately assassinated several guards. After spending so many days with them, he vaguely realized the guards' strangeness, so for safety, Ivar severed their heads.

But Ivar didn't kill everyone.

Under the blessing of Secret Blood, the guard's strength was astonishing, he directly subdued Ivar, pinning him against the wall, but the subtle pain from the armpit suddenly intensified.

Ivar fully inserted the short sword-like steel into the guard's armpit, grasping the sharp edge, twisting it bit by bit, mangling all muscles and bones.

The guard wailed in pain, heavy blows landed on Ivar's abdomen, instantly filling his mouth with blood.

Those are unfocused eyes, Secret Blood tempting the guard, anger rising, he clutched Ivar's throat, trying to strangle him, but Ivar once again struck the steel embedded in the armpit with his knee, pushing it further down alongside the ribs, directly shattering the heart within.

The guard's actions froze, the strength in his wrist slightly relaxed, allowing Ivar to break free, using the steel in the other hand to slash the guard's throat, elbowing the wound, breaking the spine beneath.

Like a soulless shell, the guard's corpse powerlessly fell, Ivar collapsed into the bloody puddle, seemingly dead, but soon crawled up again.

He couldn't stand anymore, that knee strike hit directly into the sharp steel, though it pierced the guard's heart, it also went through Ivar's knee, bleeding and unable to exert any strength.

Ivar leaned on the remaining steel, which could no longer be considered a firm grip, the steel pierced his palm, even without grasping it tightly, it hung onto his flesh.

Painfully exhaling, at this moment, it seemed there was only one thought left in his mind.

A heroic death.

So he arduously moved his body, using his knees to lift himself, like a stray dog with a broken leg, dragging his miserable body inch by inch towards Cornel.

This was the longed-for moment; Ivar Rodbrock would die like a warrior. His death would trigger war between the Viking nations and Gaulunaro, after years of fighting, the descendants of God Odin would seize warm lands to live.

"God Odin, here I come."

Ivar murmured.