Fleshcrafting Technomancer 39 Desolate Knives

Only when the blast catapulted them toward the ground did Lena and the weakened Jezebel awake to the reality of their situation. Tumbling from eight kilometers of alt.i.tude undoubtedly wasn't the type of experience that made Kilian's heart teem with excitement. Without involving magic, even the average High Emissary couldn't survive a fall from eight kilometers of alt.i.tude. Naturally, Kilian had no intention to test his limits.

However, instead of using the Eye of Distortion as the immediate solution, Kilian stretched his senses to the dra within the atmosphere, using his quasi-Archon level dra control to alter the laws of physics and alleviate his fall. As a consequence, the fall that should have taken less than 60 seconds stretched across minutes—thereby making the trio simple targets.

Without activating the Eye of Revelation, Kilian watched out for a follow-up. However, it never came. The trio nimbly dropped on the ground, landing in a forest east of the Arcadian Empire. The location added to the oppressive scent of resentment billowing from the earth and trees, allowed Kilian to realize that they now stood in one of the former territories of the genocided eldars.

Returning to their feet, Jezebel and Lena scanned the area. But with her current state shackling her, Jezebel's probe bore no fruits. Meanwhile, Lena's gaze hardened. With her h.e.l.lhound senses, especially her sense of smell locating all presence across 100 meters carried no effort. Yet, the enemy stood beyond her reach.

Either they possessed elusive anti-tracking methods, or they simply lay out of her range. Kilian leaned on the former.

"I don't play hide and seek with males," Kilian stated, obviously aware of the hidden forces' presence. The expected clatter of ordered footsteps didn't follow; yet, 48 figures emerged from the shadows. Though it was almost midnight, with his Arcane Sight, Kilian could accurately identify every single one of the armored men.

All appeared clad in dark-blue power armors, with helmets keeping all faces concealed—except for six. The leading six, undoubtedly. A floating, five meters tall bow hovered between them, bent without external help, and aiming another purple energy arrow at Kilian's group.

"Greetings, Kilian, if that's even your real name," said a middle-aged man with short, combed brown hairs, and a thin, curled up mustache fit for a cartoon villain. Standing ahead of the other five leading men with a commanding stance, he gave the impression of leading the group.

But as Kilian's gaze alternated between the six, an imperceptible glint flashed in his hazel eyes.

"When the first thing you did was to shoot my vessel, my name became irrelevant," Kilian cooly replied, and straightened his back to face the 48. Dressed in a black trench coat and s.h.i.+rt, Kilian's current gear clearly couldn't compare to the sophisticated armors and weapons at his foes' disposal.

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Throughout Arcadia, power armor technology was reserved to kings and imperial dukes or above. Klaus aside, n.o.bles below that rank couldn't access them. Therefore, as soon as their foes made their entrance, Lena first believed the Celestial Garden's success spread farther than it should have and triggered the a.s.sault of an imperial duke. But when the leader addressed himself to Kilian, confusion flashed in her eyes.

Who was he to doubt Kilian's ident.i.ty?

"Now, now, please don't bear a grudge. This first shot was nothing more than our way of determining who would lead the negotiations. You see, since you offed the members of our Ostrian chapter, the higher-ups have been considering your recruitment. They believe you would make a remarkable addition to the Desolate Knives.

Alas, we have a bit of a conflict," the leader said in a jovial tone while the purple arrow still aimed at Kilian.

"You see, your conflict with Lord Bjorn and Lady Tamara proves a challenge. Those are future senators of our order—their likes and dislikes hold tremendous weight. If you are willing to bury the hatchet, our division will handle the negotiation. We believe that your body's value alone will make the Arch Senate waver," the leader pursued, but though outwardly unchanged, his jovial tone now concealed veiled threats.

Clearly, if Kilian refused to submit, the hostilities would begin.

"Oh? The Desolate Knife Cult is a branch of the Technocracy?" Kilian rhetorically asked. From the man's words, he could see that his killing of those cultists didn't escape their superior. Perhaps, they all had the neural activities of their brains remotely monitored by a supercomputer-like device.

Unwilling to conceal the truth, mustache man nodded in approval.

"You are as astute as we heard. Indeed, the Desolate Knives are one of the five divisions of the new Technocracy. We fuel its coffers by handling murder a.s.signments for Arcadia's n.o.bility, and sometimes hasten work offers by creating strife here and there.

We operate in all cities and have officials of various ranks planted across the continent. Even the imperial court isn't beyond our reach. By joining us, you open a radiant future for yourself.

Although Lady Tamara now believes that you possessed her beloved brother and murdered her "loving" parents, that is a situation we can remedy. As for Lord Bjorn, our senator never liked him, anyway." The man stressed the last words by stroking his mustache.

Kilian needn't hear more and glanced toward Lena.

"Take care of Jezebel, I will make sure you don't face threats you can't handle," Kilian stated, and without waiting for Lena's reaction, turned his gaze back onto the Desolate Knives. Feeling his intent to oppose them, the apparent leader narrowed his eyes at Kilian.

"You should think twice, in less than five years, the Technocracy will overthrow the empire and redefine the very pattern of Arcadia. Nothing can stop our return. Join us now, and all the breakthroughs we accomplish through your body will in turn fuel your growth," Mustache man reminded. The nature of Kilian's body was the main reason behind their move.

Although he clearly wasn't a daemon, the mysteries surrounding his appearance and the abilities at his disposal hinted to profound fehl secrets. Secrets the Desolate Knives desperately needed.

But as the apparent leader's last "entreaty" echoed, Kilian couldn't help but sneer.

"Six High Emissaries, 12 High Templars, 30 Core Templars, that's a s.h.i.+tload of kp—if I can take you all alive, that is. Pray that I don't," Kilian stated in such a level, yet sinister tone that for a second the six leaders questioned the wisdom of their move.

"You had your chance, even if we can't take you back alive, the dead you still has many uses." Without further ado, the apparent leader raised his hand, giving the signal for his forces' a.s.sault.

At the same time, dark blue helmets rose from the armors' necks to cover the heads of the six top-level High Emissaries.

The 12 High Templars and 30 Core Templars brandished knives of pure energy and encircled Kilian in a battle formation. Six groups of one High Templar and three Core Templars each leaped toward him, moving faster than bullets to hack their knives at his vital points!

The remaining templars all aimed their right hands at Kilian, releasing formless energies from their gauntlets, that enhanced the gravity in his vicinity tenfold! With their armors s.h.i.+elding them, the vanguard didn't fear the gravitational changes, and freely dropped on Kilian!