Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Outside The Mordak Tribe

"He’s actually about to do this..." Ambrose muttered speechlessly several meters away from where Beherath and Kharzug stood facing each other.

Both Kings had their weapons drawn out—Kharzug dragging his massive blade through the black sands behind him. He took his opponent in.

Up close like this... Beherath was almost twice his height.

But that won’t be an issue for long.

"The rules are simple," His grip hardened around the hilt of his orc-sized blade. "We fight... to the death. No magic. No outside interference. Just pure, brute strength."

Keylath, who was standing near Ambrose close to the tribe walls, had her fingers over her mouth.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Ambrose frowned.

It took a few more seconds for him to realise that question was directed at him.

"Oh." He quickly wore his best smile. "Beherath? Of course, he’ll be okay. Don’t you trust his fighting skills?"

Her breath hitched. "I... I do." She looked back at the damaged wall.

At the crowd of orcs—young, old, men and women—gathered to witness an historic moment in their tribe. Among them she spotted her daughters, both held by her most trusted maid.

Those girls were still so young.

She hadn’t told them about their father’s condition yet.

"Our future," her voice lowered, "is on the line here." She brought her gaze to the human. "I’m just hoping whatever spells you have on him won’t hinder his strength."

Ambrose’s smile widened into something mischievous.

Horns were blown from within the city, rumbling through the valley for miles.

Kharzug made the first move without wasting another second.

In a heartbeat, he was upon Beherath, aether surging through him in one short pulse. His muscles bulged, bones rearranging themselves until he was around the same height as the undead king.

An Elder shouted. "He utilised magic!"

However, the female Elder shook her head. "It was merely to increase his size." Her head swung to Ambrose again.

Something about the way he seemed unbothered unsettled her.

SLASH!

Kharzug’s blade struck—

—Nothing.

Beherath had moved at the last second, settling right behind him. He raised his halberd, sending it at Kharzug in an overhead slash.

BOOM!

Despite Kharzug spinning around to parry the attack with his blade on time, the effects were devastating. Stone shattered beneath his boots.

A shockwave swept through the valley for hundreds of meters, covering rivers of magma in ash and dust.

And still... Beherath’s icy gaze told him he hadn’t even started yet.

The lord of the Mordak tribe swung again. And again. And again.

Each strike was heavier and faster than the last, keeping Kharzug on his toes. He dodged, blocked and tried landing strikes himself.

SLASH!

He cut through Beherath’s lower abdomen, black blood spraying on him.

Keylath gasped.

The Elders held their breaths.

Ambrose though?

’Ugh.’ He rolled his eyes. ’Beherath, why are you holding back? You know this mission has a timer, right?’

’Forgive me, my lord.’ The orc king responded. ’Should I—’

’Unleash hell?’ Ambrose shrugged. ’Yes.’

Beherath stumbled back a couple of steps, digging his halberd’s staff into the earth.

Kharzug stared victoriously at the deep wound he inflicted. "Things aren’t looking good for you, old friend." He stood upright. "Perhaps you should—"

SWISH!

All everyone else saw was a blur of movement from Beherath. Some didn’t even notice anything at all.

But Ambrose did.

The orc king had grabbed his halberd again and sent a powerful strike at the enemy’s tusks. One of them fell to the ground, Kharzug only noticing when it was far too late.

"ARGHHHH!"

Beherath’s wound healed up naturally in a matter of seconds, those burning eyes glinting like twin red suns as he dragged himself to Kharzug again.

The latter held his mouth, groaning in pure agony and shame.

Kharzug threw his head back.

Then he laughed.

The sound rolled across the battlefield, causing several Mordak warriors to exchange uncertain glances.

Even Beherath paused.

"What is so amusing?" The undead king rumbled, halberd still poised to strike.

"You." Kharzug’s tusks gleamed beneath the ash-choked sky. "Even after death... you’re still the same."

A flicker of movement caught Ambrose’s eye.

Far above the battlefield, perched upon a jagged rock overlooking the ruined eastern wall, a lone archer slowly drew back the string of an unnaturally black bow.

His pupils shrank. ’Beherath!’

The warning shot through their Necrotic bond.

The undead king reacted instantly.

CLANG!

His free hand shot upward, catching the incoming arrow barely a foot from his face. The impact alone cracked the ground beneath his boots.

Several Mordak warriors erupted into cheers.

Only for those cheers to die a heartbeat later.

The arrow shattered inside Beherath’s palm.

Instead of splintering into wood, it erupted into a cloud of thick crimson smoke that swallowed his towering figure whole.

"What—"

Kharzug vanished.

BOOOOOOM!

His enormous blade slammed into Beherath’s ribs with enough force to launch the undead king through three abandoned homes before he finally crashed into the stone road beyond.

The valley shook.

"Beherath!" Keylath screamed.

Ambrose’s blue flames exploded around his fists.

"The hell?!" He took one step forward. "That’s cheating!"

A firm hand clamped around his wrist.

"No!" Keylath snapped, refusing to let go. "If you interfere, the Rite is broken!"

Her grip tightened despite the panic flooding her face.

"If Beherath cannot finish this himself... then he was never worthy of remaining king."

Dust rolled through the streets.

For several agonising seconds... Nothing.

Then—

BOOOM!

The rubble exploded apart.

Beherath emerged, crimson eyes burning brighter than ever, black Necrotic energy spiralling around his halberd like living shadows.

Without uttering a single word, he disappeared.

Kharzug barely managed to raise his sword before Beherath’s halberd crashed into it.

The impact folded the Veragax king to one knee, blood spilling from his mouth.

Still he smiled slowly.

"Did you truly believe," he rasped, "that I crossed half the continent merely to defeat you?"

Beherath frowned. "What?"

"I came..." Kharzug chuckled through the blood, "...to make certain you lost something far more precious."

For the first time since the duel began, fear crossed Beherath’s face.

His head whipped toward the city. Toward the section of the wall where his daughters had been watching.

The two young girls were gone.

Their maid lay motionless upon the black stone, crimson blood spreading beneath her body while a handful of mounted Veragax warriors disappeared into the smoke beyond the eastern gate.

"No..."

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