Fleshcrafting Technomancer

As the fehl beasts awoke and dove into a rampage, the silent anguish of the slums turned into a hurricane of pure violence that tore through the guards keeping them under quarantine to descend upon the city proper.

It didn't take five minutes for chaos to submerge Ostria, with nobles barricading themselves within their houses, and commoners running as fast as their lungs and limbs could carry them. At first, it was only a few hundred, but as minutes succeeded one another, the beasts' ranks swelled and their frenzied roars thundered with voracious hunger.

Nobles and commoners alike initially believed the viscount would personally dispatch troops to suppress the insurgence. But the gathering of legions of soldiers around Olaf's castle soon proved them wrong—despair overwhelmed them all.

Kilian didn't stop. Though on the road he could have undoubtedly saved many, he didn't care to stop. The screams of the deceased bore no weight on his mind and he leisurely crossed the sky to arrive before Olaf's estate.

Zuri, dra shards and natal conductors, those three things were of critical importance to the production of nano-spiders.

Dra shards, as the name implied, were naturally formed containers of pure magic. The countries used them to power their dra reactors, magical weapons, and armors. Skillful mages could also channel them to cast spells they'd otherwise not have enough dra for. In magi circles, dra shards were both currencies and lifesavers.

As for natal conductors, they played a vital role in the link between nanobots and nano-spiders, and spiders to mother spider. With three decades of tyrannical rule, Olaf amassed a vast capital. From coin to resources, his reserves would put the majority of counts to shame.

Covering an area of five million square meters, with more than 90,000 square meters of floor space, the castle indeed was a marvelous edifice. A more than ten meters tall gilded gate and two golden statues of Olaf acted as gatekeepers, making it all look like the fool wished to scream his wealth to the world. In fact, the castle itself was of pure gold. Seeing this, Kilian curved his lips into a smile.

How tasteless could the man possibly be?

He now stood one kilometer away from the palace's outer walls, facing a staggering continuous wall high of 50 meters that blocked the entrance. 45 automatic dra cannons hung at the top of the walls, remotely controlled by experts and ready to fire at the invaders.

Across the wall's surface, thousands of automatic artillery weapons sprouted, now locking on Kilian. Yet, despite such staggering defenses, an army of 11,000 stretched across four rows and occupying hundreds of meters of space protected the entrance, facing Kilian with clear military discipline.

The extra 4,000 handled various posts behind the wall. Obviously, Olaf didn't wish to put his costly artillery to use unless absolutely necessary. Based on his reputation, Kilian expected such a move. In Olaf's mind, the lives of those 11,000 men couldn't compare to a single dra cannon.

Not that it mattered. Hands in his pockets, Kilian sauntered toward the battle formation, the appearance of the hazel-eyed youth whose back-length dreadlocks spoke of a commoner background filled the soldiers' eyes with puzzlement. Thirty Lesser Templars and two low-level Core Templars stood at the forefront of their respective troops, with the two Core Templars leading the 11,000 men.

Olaf's captain and vice-captain. If the situation went south, those two would trigger the artillery's strike while leading the templar group back to shelter—leaving the rest of their men behind. Although they disliked the order, they couldn't go against the viscount's will. But as they awaited the beast invasion's assault, little did they expect a commoner would arrive first.

"Trespassing on the viscount's territory is punishable by death. Boy, you asked for it." The captain wasted no time in trifles. His orders were to kill anyone or thing that stepped in a one-kilometer radius from the viscount's estate. That boy could only blame his rashness.

The captain raised his hand, motioning for his snipers to strike. In Arcadia, non-templars, and non-magi - the traditional soldiers that served the aristocracy - relied on nobility supplied firearms. Therefore, the 11,000 men composing the infantry all stood equipped with assault rifles, with concealed snipers ready to intercept targets.

Ignoring the captain, Kilian carried on with his saunter. But strangely, with every one of those leisurely steps, the distance between him and the army drastically shrank.

The sound of gunshots didn't echo, but three bullets tore through the air as they shot toward Kilian! One aimed at his brain, another one at his heart, and the last, his neck. All three hit their target. However, the soldiers were startled to see the nailed figure carrying on as if nothing occurred.

Unable to pierce Kilian's flesh, the bullets dropped onto the ground.

The darkness of night reigned within the sky, clouding the moon and combining with the chilling breeze to fill the soldiers with ominous presages.

"If you chose to rely on your cannons, the majority might have lived. But since you picked frontal assault, I can't disappoint your yearning for annihilation. That would be rude," Kilian stated as his lips curled into a fiendish grin, and his eyes shone with murder-lust.

There it was, the rush, the indulgence in chaos and mayhem, in vindictive retribution, the soul-stirring call for wickedness. However, it wasn't Kilian that yearned for it all. No, as the concentration of fehl throughout Ostria skyrocketed, Kilian's third eye stirred, stepping closer toward the second level.

And now, the Eye of Fehl seemed to be screaming that only a baptism in blood could finalize its rise!

A red slit appeared on Kilian's forehead, opening to reveal his third eye, the crimson eye that forced open the road into this third life!

"A mutant...it's a fehl mutant!" The captains and templars realized in a stupor. On the scene, only they possessed a clear vision of Kilian's ongoing changes. But then, Kilian let his dra surge. 11,000 units of dra erupted from his slender form, condensing into strands of sky-blue energy and filling the area with crushing pressure. The 11,000 soldiers could barely hold onto their firearms, quivering with glaring fright. The templars were not better off!

No, because they possessed a much better understanding of dra, they felt even worse!

The captains once stood in the presence of Count Wilfried, Klaus' guard captain and a top-level High Templar. But even he never made them feel such pressure! Instantly, they realized this wasn't an enemy they could confront, and motioned toward their troops!

"Infantry, attack!" The captain snarled while keeping his own sword sheathed. Unable to disobey the superior, the soldiers forcefully snapped out of their fright, roared for courage, and charged Kilian!

The dreadful sounds of thousands of flying bullets thundered within the night, all aiming at the mutant. However, he didn't bother dodging, didn't bother blocking, and simply tilted his head back!

"Third Circle Spell: Profane Allure!" Kilian exclaimed. The sky-blue dra surrounding him took a lilac shade, stretching like writhing tendrils while three lilac-colored circles appeared, surrounding Kilian in a charm that made the thousands of charging soldiers stop in their tracks.

Their previous roars died in their throats and, as Kilian turned into a picture of divine perfection, the fear within their eyes made way for pure devotion—drawing them all into eternal, willing servitude.

Each now saw the legions of infantry soldiers as an immediate threat for the master's favor, and aimed their weapons at partners of a lifetime!

Again, gunshots thundered, but this time, blood followed the macabre melody of firearms as the soldiers desperately shot one another—exhausting their munitions on friends rather than foe!

In just an instant, 3,000 dropped onto the ground, leaving an extra 2,000 to charge at one another with blades and seething wrath!