Chapter 1175 The Eight diators
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The Ten Guardians and the Eight diators of the Dark Night Alliance were not mere warriors. They were legends, echoes of an age when their des had carved dominion from the chaos of warring titans.
They had not ruled the underworld–they had been the underworld, their names spoken in hushed reverence, their deeds etched into the marrow of history.
In those days, when the great powers vied for supremacy, their strength had been absolute.
The 30 strongest martial artists of the World of Darkness had fallen before them like dry leaves in an autumn wind, crushed beneath the weight of their mastery.
They had stood as equals with Draconia’s Twelve Great Warriors of Dragon Soul, Sakurania’s Northern Star Sword School, the sect of Dubh in ria, the dreaded Dark Lords of Caym in Marinaverdin, and Shepherd’s Panacea Ocean Warriors.
Each a giant in their own right. Each grasping for dominion. And for a time, none could be moved.
Then came the great shift.
It began 20 years ago, at the first Thalrex Order summit on Qacalisle Ind.
The ink had barely dried on the ords when the world was upended.
The massacre at Dragon Manor had sent shockwaves through the underworld.
In the span of days, the mighty disappeared–vanishing into silence, as if they had never been.
Time pressed forward. The years turned like a slow wheel, grinding down all that had once seemed immutable.
The names that had once instilled terror faded to whispers in dark corners, little more than embers of a long–dead fire.
Then, from the bones of history, something stirred.
It was not vengeance that roused the old titans from slumber, nor lingering grudges best left buried. It was something greater, something older.
An artifact–a relic of the ancients.
No one could say what power it held, only that it was enough to send the most fearsome warriors of an era wing back from oblivion, willing to sacrifice all to im it.
Lonnie Schwartz, Guardian of the Dark Night Alliance, let out a low, knowing chuckle. His voice carried the ease of a man who had never known fear. “Divine Drakebane,” he said, lips curling, “the men before you today are the same warriors who once bent an entire age to their will.”
“Twenty years ago, we were untouchable.”
“For two decades, we trained in exile, in the frozen depths of Snow Valley, sharpening our power beyond reckoning.”
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<b>Chapter </b>1175 The Eight diators
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<b>pinnacle </b><b>once</b><b>. </b>Once<b>.</b><b>” </b><b>“</b>But now<b>?</b><b>” </b>Lonnie’s voice was smooth, almost mocking. “Now, they <b>are </b>nothing”
“We <b>hold </b>no personal quarrel with you, Divine Drakebane. No thirst for your blood.”
“All <b>we </b>want is the relic. Surrender it, and you–and those you love–will leave this ce unharmed.”
His grin darkened, something cruel glinting behind his eyes. “You have a wedding soon, don’t you?”
<b>“</b>Why cast it all aside for a trinket that was never meant o be yours?”
“You’re a clever man.” His voice dropped to a whisper. You must know by now–this ce <b>is </b>a snare, and the trap has already been sprung.”
“Simmond won’t stand with us.” Lonnie’s smirk deepened. “But he won’t stand with you either.”
“Is that so?” Robin asked, his voice cold as he slowly drew the Dragon Dagger. The gleam in his eyes sharpened, hard and unforgiving, like frozen steel.
“Twenty years ago, you failed. You threw everything at it and still couldn’t get it. What makes you think you stand a chance now?”
“There’s a kind of death … thinking you can do what you clearly can’t.”
“Since this is a relic, it’s not for the likes of you to wield!
“Even <i>if </i>you filthy, shallow–minded fools were to reach the peak of your power, you wouldn’t survive long enough to eveny a hand on it!”
He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now that you’re all here, I won’t waste time hunting you down one by one. Today, I’ll rid the world of you all in a single stroke.”
Lonnie’sugh was bitter, filled with disdain. “You truly don’t know your own limits, do you?”
At his words, the Eight diators surged forward, their killing intent like a tidal wave breaking over the shore.
<b>A </b>sea of ck parasites flooded the sky, a suffocating mass of darkness<b>, </b>closing in on Robin from every direction.
Robin’s pulse quickened.
He knew that with even the smallest mistake, these billions of parasites would tear through his body, cell by cell, consuming him in seconds.
“Divine Drakebane,” Lonnie bellowed, his voice echoing across the battlefield. “Onest chance, and then- like the fools from Dragon Manor–you’ll be gone!”
“A swarm of insects,” Robin muttered, his voice sharp. “What gives you the nerve to speak so boldly in front of me?”
His words hung in the air for a heartbeat, and then the dragon dagger flew from its sheath with a thunderous ng.
A sh of icy light split the mass of parasites, cutting through them like a knife through butter, tearing a path through the densest part of the ck storm.
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Chapter 1175 The Eight diators
<b>A </b><b>scream </b>split the western sky, a cry of anguish and horor.
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The diator in the west clutched at his throat, blood ouring between his fingers <b>as </b>his face contorted in
agony
In an instant, the mass of parasites fell, lifeless, to the ground.
The dragon dagger sang a jovial note, its edge still humming from the strike.
The diator was lifted from the earth, his life’s blood trained by the Golden Dragon that circled above him, its wings sweeping the air like an unstoppable force of nature.
For a fleeting moment, terror and suffocation filled the air, but the scene quickly turned grim as the ground beneath them began to churn once more.
A new swarm of parasites rose from the earth, dark purple and deadly, forming into a massive de that shot toward Robin, its tip gleaming with murderous intent.
At the same time, other parasites–yellow serpents, blue axes, silver spear–tipped creatures, red spiked tendrils, green scorpions, and countless gas–like parasites–shifted and flowed around Robin, closing in from every angle, wrapping him in a deadly, inescapable trap.
“Divine Drakebane,” Lonnie called from afar, his voiceced with icy venom.
“This is the Bloody diator Formation of the Dark Night Alliance! Even missing a piece, it will be more than enough to end you.”
“The Dipper Formation,” he continued, a grim satisfaction in his tone, “the perfect killing move created by the Eight diators over thest two decades. No one has ever survived it.”
“So, this legendary Dark Night Alliance, reduced to nothing but empty words now?” Robin sneered, his voiceced with contempt as he aimed the Divine Drakebane at the writhing mass of yellow venomous serpents in the northwest.
A sh of cold light cut through the air, swift and decisive, slicing through the heart of the writhing swarm.
A cloud of smoke nowid bare.
Tupted, scattering into the air, and from it, the northwest diator emerged, his form
The dragon dagger did not wait. With a single, fluid motion, the de swung, severing the diator’s head in a clean, merciless arc.
As the Golden Dragon ascended, the Dipper Formation crumbled in an ine
A rush of exhration surged through the dragon dgger. Bright, shing light followed, and in mere moments, heads fell like overripe fruit, one after another.
The Eight diators of the Dark Night Alliance, once feared across thend, were torn to shreds, their bodies vanishing into mist before the insatiable wrath of the Golden Dragon.
The fog began to disperse, revealing the bright, unforgiving sun high above.
The rear garden of the Landorne Hotel reeked of blood yet aside from the scent, the ce seemed as if untouched by the carnage.
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Chapter 1175 The Eight diators
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<b>With </b><b>an </b><b>air </b><b>of </b>detached indifference, Robin reached in his pocket and drew a handkerchief, methodically <b>wiping </b>the blood from the dragon daggers gleaming de.
<b>Step </b>by deliberate step, he advanced toward Lonnie and the three other guardians of the Dark Night Alliance, his gaze unflinching.
“So this <b>is </b>what you pathetic excuses for super martialt masters call strength?” His voice was dry,ced with disdain.
“I’ve never understood it. You, vile and unworthy as you are, seek to wield powers that should be beyond your reach. What is it about controlling these ancient relics that drives you to self–destruction?”
Lonnie and the others stood frozen, eyes wide with disclicf.
They had heard the whispers about the terror of Divine Drakebane, but nothing could have prepared them for the overwhelming force they had just witnessed.
The Eight diators, once the scourge of the realm, had fallen as easily as insects beneath a crushing blow from a god of death.
Lonnie inhaled sharply, trying to steady his nerves.
“Divine Drakebane,” he spat, his voice trembling with fury, “you think killing Eight diators will break the trap set for you today? You’re gravely mistaken.”
“Divine Drakebane, your loyalty–that is your weakness”
“Youe here, and not even fear for your fiancée, Shirley, or your sister, who might be butchered in this, very hotel?”
Robin’sugh was cold, devoid of any mirth. “You trash. Is there anything you can do but scheme and crawl through the dirt?”
“Divine Drakebane, wait!” Lonnie cried out, his voice desperate, pleading. “We can talk this through…
But Robin didn’t even give him the chance to finish. He scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. “Talk? To hell with your talk! No more words. Just die!”
A sh of icy brilliance streaked through the air, and the dragon dagger flew toward Lonnie’s throat, its deadly tip aimed with perfect precision.
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