My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 503: The Dog-Beating Staff Technique!
At what point had things ended up like this?
Malcador did not know.
"DIE!!!"
A blood-red spear screamed past his ear!
Malcador tilted his head. Several strands of white hair scattered into the air. Pushing hard against the wall with one foot, he launched himself upward with the agility of an ape.
Clack!
The hunched old man landed atop the spear shaft, and his staff traced golden afterimages through the air.
The crimson Alpharius violently yanked back his spear, but Malcador's staff was faster.
BOOM!
A heavy metallic impact exploded through the room.
Malcador immediately leapt again.
The old man who usually moved with apparent frailty now displayed the agility of a monkey.
BAM!
Another strike!
The blood spear stabbed toward the descending Malcador once more.
Just as it was about to pierce him—
A faint light appeared beneath Malcador's feet.
A small magical formation ignited under his soles.
As though stepping on solid ground, Malcador pushed off the glowing sigil and veered toward the floor, narrowly avoiding the raging spear.
Lowering his center of gravity, the old man flowed into a crouching crawl across the ground. His staff whipped toward the Primarch's legs like a sweeping rod.
Tall people always feared this move.
Brilliant golden light enveloped the old man's hands.
BANG!!!
Another hit!
The crimson Alpharius's body wavered, though he ultimately maintained his footing.
Against Malcador, even a Primarch's reaction speed was no longer fast enough.
The spear thrust downward.
Malcador rolled aside instantly.
At the same time, his staff slipped through every opening, constantly disrupting the crimson Alpharius's footwork.
Alpharius let out an irritated roar.
Leveling the spear, the Primarch grabbed both ends and pulled apart.
The weapon split down the middle.
Warping dimensional fissures wrapped around streams of blood-energy as the divided spear transformed into two short swords.
The crimson Alpharius swung the paired blades.
The shorter reach was compensated for by vastly greater flexibility.
The Primarch's attacks accelerated.
A flicker crossed Malcador's eyes.
He immediately retreated.
Stepping backward, he raised one hand toward the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Golden light erupted from his palm.
At the same moment, the enormous crystal chandelier above exploded with a thunderous crash and plummeted straight downward.
The crimson Alpharius abruptly looked up.
He raised his arms to stop the cascading crystal avalanche.
Dazzling sparks erupted.
Malcador did not hesitate for even a moment.
He raised a hand.
Golden light flickered at his fingertips.
Every piece of furniture in the room began to float.
Malcador clenched his fingers.
The ten-person sofa.
The solid wood office desk.
The bookcase covering an entire wall.
The marble clock.
All of it hurtled toward the figure at the center of the crystal waterfall.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Golden flames burned within Malcador's eyes.
The old man's expression darkened as he stared at the figure hidden amid the flying debris.
As if sensing something, Malcador extended his right hand.
His palm opened sideways.
His fingers curled slightly.
His pupils contracted.
BOOM!!!
A deafening sonic explosion erupted.
The tip of a short sword trembled less than an inch from Malcador's nose.
The right hand he had extended moments earlier now firmly gripped the blade that Alpharius had hurled.
Before Malcador could react, the dense blood-energy coating the sword split into eight crimson serpents.
They slithered down the blade, wrapped around the old man's arm, hissed, bared their fangs, and sank them into his flesh.
Malcador's pupils trembled.
His body shook.
Khorne's power...
Blood-energy blazed within his eyes.
"When did your combat skills become so refined?"
A rough, heavy breathing emerged from the ruins.
Affected by the Blood God's power, Malcador narrowed his eyes and stared at the silhouette rising through the dust cloud.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips, then vanished.
"Your martial skill is nothing special."
Not compared to the Deceased One.
At least during their sparring sessions, he had been a genuinely devious bastard.
For a moment, Malcador's memories drifted.
Unless one specifically sought a glorious battle, nobody wanted to fight the Deceased One in an environment filled with obstacles.
Compared to him...
Alpharius' combat styles were still too straightforward.
The smell of blood at the tip of his nose dragged him back into the rapidly changing battlefield.
Malcador steadied his mind.
Clenching his teeth, he tasted blood spreading through his mouth.
The old man shouted, "When did you betray the Imperium?!"
From within the cloud of dust came loud laughter.
"What is betrayal?"
"What is loyalty?"
A nearly imperceptible twitch crossed the corner of Malcador's eye.
The old man spoke heavily, "...I'm beginning to appreciate straightforward fools."
"I shall remember your teachings, my teacher... I have wondered countless times wheth—"
The words abruptly cut off.
A shockwave tore through the fog as a short sword suddenly slashed toward Malcador!
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
The old man had been momentarily drawn into memory by those words.
In Malcador's eyes, the crimson Alpharius rapidly expanded as he charged forward.
His body shifted, attempting to evade—
But he was a moment too slow.
The blood-red blade plunged straight into where a mortal's heart should have been.
The bloodthirsty smile on Alpharius's lips widened slightly.
Then, in the next instant, the Primarch realized something was wrong.
Alpharius spun around immediately—
Too late.
The psychic illusion before him shattered into fragments.
It erupted into blazing fire.
Golden flames instantly engulfed Alpharius's body.
Behind him stood Malcador.
One hand held a blood-red sword, its tip dragging across the floor.
The other brushed back the disheveled hair hanging over his forehead.
Slowly, the old man advanced.
The sword's tip carved a clear trail of blood across the ground.
The hem of his white robe was stained crimson.
Malcador exhaled a long breath.
Then he raised his head with disdain, tilting it slightly as he fixed the crimson Alpharius with a gaze burning with fury.
At this moment, Malcador was sharper than ever.
"You have thirteen seconds."
Glancing at the blood sword in his hand, Malcador saw that the blade had already lost all its brilliance.
He loosened his grip.
Clang
The divine weapon fell to the floor like a worthless piece of scrap metal.
Malcador's blood-tinged eyes returned to Alpharius.
As though witnessing something unbelievable, the crimson Alpharius began coughing.
Then he laughed.
Laughed in disbelief.
The golden flames scorched him, causing unbearable agony.
"Tell me, teacher—what difference is there between you and me?"
Malcador's pupils contracted sharply.
"Is that your answer?"
Alpharius laughed.
Within the raging golden flames, he laughed in pain.
His crimson claws tore at his mutated skull, drawing sprays of blood.
Spreading his arms wide, he let scarlet flames surge around him.
Within mere moments, his body grew even larger.
"Malcador... once, you told me something."
Amid the roaring and howling came words filled with mockery.
Through his distorted vision, Alpharius looked at the figure before him.
Malcador... is that really you?
When did you become so arrogant?
He remembered the earliest days of his life.
Two figures seated across a chessboard.
Malcador had always hoped to teach him something through the game.
Malcador... are you still truly aware of what you're doing?
"—A move once made cannot be taken back!"
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!!!"
The thirteen seconds had not yet elapsed.
Yet the crimson Alpharius, his entire body engulfed in golden flames, charged forward in a berserk frenzy.
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Tn: I updated the story once every 2 days, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.
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