Transmigrated with my corruption system-Chapter 64: He’s Coming

BOOM!

Flesh burst apart, spraying bone and blood across the battlefield.

The ground was red with blood. At the center of it all, a figure stood, keeling slightly as he breathed heavily.

He didn’t know how many E-rank beings he had killed, but one thing was certain. He couldn’t keep this up for long. Greyson mused as his face grew paler, spitting out another mouthful of blood.

One E-rank was manageable, but combined, they put a little strain on his already weak body, and as time passed on, it stacked up considerably.

And as if to press on that point, a voice echoed from the distance.

"Give up already, Greyson. You’re outmatched," Orros muttered as his jaws clamped tightly.

The number of his forces that had fallen under the figure were getting out of hand. If it were another invasion, he would have already called quits and cut his losses.

A clan wasn’t defined solely by its patriarch, but also the forces beneath it. Forces that were rapidly diminishing!

By his calculations, all this should have been enough to draw him out before he swooped in for the kill, but the standing figure spoke of something else.

"Y-you... think this is enough to take me down?" Greyson muttered, a bloody grin stretching across his face.

"I knew you were tough... just not by this much," Orros growled. Especially for one supposed to be dying!

He could see his body was battered by the sustained attacks. Yet a gleam of unyielding determination flashed across his eyes.

The elders beside him were not any better off. Everything was going as planned, just one thing he didn’t understand as he voiced it out.

His eyes drifting into the distance, where a siege was occurring in the Greyson Residence.

"Tens have already fallen. By nightfall, multiple, if not all, bearing the Greyson lineage will be dead! Without them, there will be no continuity! Why then do you fight so valiantly? Even if you are to win this battle... you have already lost the war. No one shall live to carry on the legacy."

Orros muttered spitefully, trying to drill that realization into Greyson’s head. He didn’t become a D-rank being by brute force alone, but also by his cunningness and planning that most knew and feared him for.

This battle was not just a physical one, but a mental one.

Once Greyson lost his will to fight, then his victory was assured.

Only, instead of seeing Greyson’s eyes dull with realization, his expectations were subverted as a chuckle slipped from his lips.

His eyes flaring brighter than ever with battle spirit.

"You’re smart," Greyson muttered, spitting a mouthful of blood, before his grin widened.

"But you didn’t account for one thing."

"Huh?" Orros muttered, watching the smug grin on his face that eventually spread to the rest of the elders, as if they knew something he didn’t.

What was he missing? His brows furrowed in consternation as frustration ate at him before he couldn’t take it anymore.

"You’re bluffing!" he yelled, charging forward as he grasped his gleaming dark sword tightly. It was the only feasible explanation he could come up with.

And now he was going to prove it.

Swinging his blade at his head, he aimed to reap his life in one motion.

But Greyson easily deflected, sending him flying back as the sword couldn’t pierce through the defense of his talent and his tough body.

But the strain was far larger than the E-rank beings. At first, he easily dominated the fight, but as he pressed on, the advantage became clear as he was slowly forced back. He had pushed his body beyond the limits, and he was paying for it.

Orros’ villainous laughter echoed as he charged through his wounds. To a point, it was a trade of damage.

He had incurred heavy wounds, but if it all resulted in him slaying a C-rank being. It would have all been worth it.

Looking back, he couldn’t help but shake his thoughts in a dismissive gesture. It seemed he had been overthinking things.

So what if the old bastard was determined? It seemed he was just hell-bent on remaining alive, which would make killing him even more satisfying.

A little more. Just a little more time. Greyson yelled repeatedly at the back of his mind as he fell to the ground, before getting back up and charging once more. That was all he needed.

Dark veins spread across his body in a menacing manner, which only made him fight more boldly.

With all his attention diverted to the battle, he wasn’t able to suppress the poison that had dwelled in his body anymore. Even if he came out on top, death was inevitable, but that didn’t make him lose hope.

Ever since he had been unable to get rid of it, he had known death was inevitable. He had just been buying more time. Time that this battle was taking away from him.

But that didn’t matter anymore. If this was going to be his last battle, then he would relish it to the fullest and make it count. After all, he had a promise to keep as well.

If it was before he came out of seclusion and someone told him an E-rank being would have the power to go against a fully fledged D-rank being, he would have long smacked the nonsense out of them.

But after everything he had seen, he believed. His expectations had been subverted so many times that when he placed his faith in the figure, he felt assured.

What was one more time that the youth rose up against the norm and defied the impossible?

His thoughts were cut short as a piercing pain flared across his torso.

When his eyes lowered, he could see Orros’ blade wrenched deep into his body. When he withdrew it, strength slowly slipped from his body as he fell to the ground, blood gushing out of him in streams.

The sight elicited terrified gasps from the elders far behind him.

"Lord Greyson!"

He could sense their intent to come help him, but he raised his hand to stop them. It was no use.

He clenched his fists, trying to get up as he had done multiple times before, but he... couldn’t. His body couldn’t take it anymore.

And as he saw Orros’ blade hovering over his head, the realization slammed into him.

He had... failed. The concept of death didn’t scare him. He just felt a deep sense of loss.

He wouldn’t see the heights the Greysons would ascend to with the black-robed figure at the top.

But the thought alone warmed him. Just as he was about to close his eyes and embrace eternal slumber, a violent shockwave erupted, sending Orros’ figure flying into the distance.

When his eyes regained focus, his brows furrowed seeing the figure.

Graegor? What was he doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting Ulric? Did something go wrong? It couldn’t! Of all the questions, he asked one.

"Where is he?"

At the side, Graegor breathed heavily, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He had only been gone a few hours, yet the carnage that had descended was preposterous! And seeing the lord in this state couldn’t help but press that in.

If it were before, he would have thought this was the end of House Greyson. But after everything he had witnessed.

Three consecutive evolutions, the monstrous transformation of his blades and physique, and what he had done to the scythe and robe, the very thought felt absurd.

He wished he could convey all this at once, but there was no time. He had rushed out a bit earlier to tell the good news and only managed to send Orros flying with a fully charged surprise attack.

Under the weight of Lord Greyson’s gaze, and the suffocating pressure closing in, he could only whisper two words.

"He’s... coming."