The Strongest Assassin of the Zoldyck Family!

Chapter 908 - 904

2-in-1 Chapter

(Note: I decided to call the "Boss" types Desolate God; the grunts will be called Desolate Beasts.)

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Wither's situation was similar to Akame's in that her killing efficiency had dropped against this enemy type, but unlike Akame, Wither possessed both Killer Queen's arsenal and Neferpitou's physical prowess.

Even without a specialized technique, she could break Desolate Beasts through raw force. Each time she landed a blow, I was like popping a balloon as they simply disintegrated into mist.

Ron sat on Bumblebee's shoulder. A card hovered in his hand, and he channeled a massive amount of aura into it. From the card, a gigantic dragon head emerged—ferocious and terrifying, radiating immense pressure.

In terms of power, the Blue-Eyes White Dragon was not Ron's strongest Nen beast, but in sheer presence it was unmatched.

'

The majority of Desolate Beasts instantly turned their attention toward it.

Just as they clustered together, a surge of dread descended. Specter appeared among them. Desolate Beasts began to die. Their cells dissolved into mist, reformed, and then died again—repeating endlessly, each cycle shorter than the last as Specter's Intimidation crushed their bodies.

After some time, Specter finally killed the last remaining Desolate Beast.

The field finally quieted.

Trees along the front edge were seared on one side and powdered with ash on the other.

Splashes of vitrified sand gleamed in fractured mirrors underfoot.

Lightning scars spidered across trunks, and charred foliage drifted down in slow flurries.

Broken Desolate Beasts lay strewn in heaps that collapsed into their component mists; organ-sacs deflated with soft hisses, and chitinous plates split with dry cracks.

Machi exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. "Looks like it's done."

Ponzu swept her bees in a widening arc and nodded as feeds returned to her visor. "Signal's clean. No large signatures left."

Misty lowered her guard a fraction "The area's a ruin. If there were more, they would have shown themselves by now."

Ron said nothing. He watched the way the mist hugged the ground rather than lifting, and the way torn plates slid, ever so slightly, against the lay of the land. He did not step forward yet...After all, A Desolate God was almost certain to have the core he wanted.

As the bodies stacked and broke, the field changed again. Cell-mist pooled in sluggish sheets, tugged by unseen currents toward a single point near the basin Natsu's blast had carved. Shredded limbs, shattered carapace plates, and ruptured organ-sacs began to slide, inch by inch, as if gravity had tilted. Wherever edges met, surfaces softened and sank, knitting with wet suction.

Squelch. Squelch.

A spine from one corpse ratcheted into a pelvic ring from another with dull clacks.

Thunk.

Thick cords of tendon wound together. Layers of muscle spread over the frame like wet cloth. Plates of chitin slid into place and fused until no seams showed. Under a clear, thin skin, tubes swelled and pumped a dark fluid that steamed in the air.

Small pits opened across the surface, each filling with jelly-like eyes that turned toward Ron's team and widened, as if tasting their heat.

The mass rose in stages, like ruins rebuilding themselves. A dragon's frame took shape—four arms in two tiers, the upper pair long and hooked with six talons each, the lower pair thicker for bracing. Where a head should have been, a bony hood hung low, and below it the chest split open into a huge vertical maw set in the belly, ringed with layered cartilage and teeth that unfolded like shutters.

Click. Click.

Organ-pipes along its spine exhaled a low, continuous drone that made the leaves tremble and sent ripples through puddles of melted resin. The creature's bulk eclipsed the treetops; its shadow swallowed the clearing, easily surpassing 30 meters while still hunched down.

The Desolate Beast was gone. What stood there was a Desolate God—an adaptive composite organism whose modular cells had settled on a towering, bipedal draconic frame.

A hooded crest hung where a head might have been, four arms spread in two tiers—the upper pair long and hooked with six talons each, the lower pair thick and bracing—and the abdomen split into a vertical, ringed maw packed with unfolding teeth, opening and closing like a living gate.

(Note: If you have difficulty imagining this, just imagine the gaping dragon from Dark Souls. and from Lords of the Fallen: See Image below. )

"Observation Platform." A massive sigil formed beneath Ron's feet. He activated the ability without delay.

The Desolate God struck immediately, a sweeping upper arm scything through the space he occupied—only to pass harmlessly through.

So long as these beasts remained within the platform, he was invincible.

The Desolet God seemed to notice that too, as its attention shifted and it drove forward on its lower limbs, talons gouging trenches as it reached forward and tried to attack from below.

"Bumblebee, rear arc." Bumblebee vaulted behind the creature on a flare of exhaust and fired a shoulder cannon into the dorsal crown.

( Note: dorsal crown = basically means the uppermost part of the back of the head)

Boom!

The bone pipes on its back shattered into white chunks. The humming cut off, then came back lower as plates slid over to patch the gap.

Specter stepped through the mist at ground level and pushed his aura into the parts trying to rebuild. Their timing was perfec because for a few seconds the cell cloud fell out of sync, and the edge sagged into dead paste instead of knitting back together.

"Fire Dragon's Brilliant Flame!" Natsu's golden blaze slammed into the left flank. The membrane blistered and sloughed in heavy sheets. Beneath, latticework bone softened, but deeper strata surged upward to reinforce the breach.

"Chidori: Falling Thunder!" Sasuke's bolt tore through exposed conduits. The amber fluid boiled; arcs leapt along the organ network and made the hooded lens spasm.

The Desolate God sank a taloned hand into the soil to ground the current, then pulsed its organ-pipes in a compressed counterblast.

Whump!

The blast rolled out in a ring. The ground scooped into a shallow crater, dirt blew back, trees leaned away, and wood chips shot out like bullets.

Wither reappeared above the shoulder the instant the wave passed. A pebble slid between her fingers, vanished into the membrane near a braced strut beneath the hood, and detonated.

"First Bomb."

Crack.

A cavern opened through the layered flesh. The giant lurched and roared.

"WHAHAA!"

The sound blasted from its back pipes and shook the trees. Plates rolled toward the wound in waves, trying to seal it.

Wither slipped along the collapsing seam and planted a second seed deeper.

"First Bomb."

Bang!

A deeper layer blew open. Burning fluid sprayed out and fell as smoking drops, eating tiny holes into bark, stone, and the already scorched glass.

Yuzuru Yamai's music wrapped around the team. Their timing sped up; the creature's healing slowed. The beat knocked its cells out of rhythm. Torn skin tried to close on one note and split again on the next, opening and shutting in a stutter.

"Room," Trafalgar Law said. A spherical field expanded over the wound.

"Shambles." Segments of the creature's plated forearm swapped with shattered crown fragments, forcing the regeneration logic to resolve two conflicting structures at once.

A seam along the left torso brightened under the Observation Platform's second function as lines and bands mapped themselves over the monster like a living diagram.

"There," Ron said, eyes fixed on an oblique rib beneath the upper arm.

"Wither."

Wither vanished and reappeared at the angle the diagram demanded. The Desolate God layered three membranes over the site in a single, fluid motion, trying to defend itself.

Specter cut the first layer with a sweep that made the cell-logic falter.

Law split the second with a clean spatial slice.

Wither's knuckles met the third.

"First Bomb."

Boom.

The brace fractured. The hooded aperture over-rotated and exposed a deeper lens-ring and a spindle of coiled fibers pulsing with light.

If this monster was a plane, this area would be like its cockpit.

"Now!" Ron commanded the strike.

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