Rivers of the Night

Chapter 333: THRUM

Theron looked up into the skies, his gaze somewhat dull. The shock he felt faded away as his blood began to boil all on its own.

His hair fluttered in the wind, his Water Mana churning around him as the first sprinkles of water fell from the skies above.

It was hard to put into words how unlucky this was. Obviously, this wasn’t his own Tribulation, but instead Wren’s. In a last-ditch effort to survive, he had triggered his Tribulation, only to die in horrid fashion before he could even take advantage of it.

Unfortunately, Theron had already been in range when it happened. But worst of all, this Tribulation was triggered from above the Palace. It had consumed and swallowed up a large number of experts already. Ignoring Theron himself, there was still the Empress and Emperor, and whomever else might be in there.

The churning of the clouds wasn’t so exaggerated just yet, though.

‘It hasn’t locked onto them yet? Or maybe the range isn’t as wide as it seemed before?’

Theron’s breathing was even, as though it was all irrelevant. Looking up into the skies above, he felt familiar feelings—the sort that wanted to see the world burn and the skies split in two.

The moon was quickly obscured by the heavy black clouds, sparks of lightning taking shape with a particular sharpness to them, as though they were blades crisscrossing through the skies as opposed to bolts from the Heavens themselves.

Or maybe there was little difference between the two in the first place. The rampaging lights formed Runes that shimmered and shined, the lines of gold no longer hiding their true form and becoming golden blades that slowly manifested from the depths of rolling darkness.

‘Why?’

Theron’s gaze turned to the sword pierced into the palace grounds, and he understood. The Heavens were treating the sword as though Wren was still alive.

‘Just what is tying him to this sword?’

Theron unsheathed his dagger, looking at the state of it.

Usually, he would have already thrown away a destroyed dagger like this. He had many in his arsenal since money was no longer a limiting factor back in the Nightingale Empire. But…

Theron put the dagger away and leapt forward. As though he couldn’t feel the Tribulation accumulating in the skies above, he landed before the sword, looking at it deeply.

This was going to ruin all of his plans. Elder Black would definitely break free before he could finish dealing with this Tribulation, and by then he would be back to square one.

No, it would be worse than square one. There was simply no way he could get out of here alive if she was actively trying to stop him.

And it was all because of this sword.

Theron reached down to pick it up, only for the hilt to shred into his palm. If not for his quick reactions, he would have lost all of his fingers in an instant.

The ground cracked, and Theron accelerated back, his nimble feet avoiding the splintering earth and spiderweb-like cracks that raced across it. Each one of these cracks seemed to carry a Sword Mana as fine as the lines of silk threaded by an expert seamstress. Just a single touch would be enough to rip him to shreds.

Theron’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker as he finally came to the end of the carnage, standing in the midst of the destroyed palace grounds. But at his back, he could feel an invisible barrier of sorts, as though he wouldn’t be able to continue back no matter how hard he tried.

The sword—it was trapping him here.

That was why. That was why no one else had been sensed by this Tribulation. This was the sword’s final gambit to get revenge for itself and its master.

‘This sword…’

Theron’s eyes flashed as he recalled Ironvale. Somehow, that young man had made his sword his Echo. It had life to it that Theron had never seen from any other weapon.

But without a choice, Theron had to abandon it in the Secret Realm because he couldn’t afford to give the Patriarch of the Luminescent Moon Sect hard proof that he was the one who killed his top disciple.

Now, it felt like Theron was witnessing the birth of another such weapon, but this time it had taken the sacrifice of its owner to reach this point.

Theron looked up to the clouds again. ‘It’s coming…’

Chi.

The tips of blades poked out from the depths of darkness above, shining so bright that it almost looked like the light of day in this region of the palace.

Theron’s luck was truly unbelievable. Before he could even take on his own Tribulation, he was forced to undergo two that had nothing at all to do with him.

At this point, every one he went through marked him more thoroughly. By the time he triggered his own Tribulation, he would have to suffer one that was far stronger.

Even so, there was a dull sort of indifference in Theron’s eyes, his mind churning through possibilities and thoughts. He had to find another way—another way to get out of here.

The Daggers of the Night could sow the chaos he wanted, but what they didn’t have was anyone that could deal with Elder Black.

‘Don’t they?’

Theron didn’t know. There was still too much he didn’t understand about the assassin’s organization. Why did it feel like there was such a huge gap between their Heads and the underlings beneath them?

Taking a breath, Theron closed his eyes.

The swords above fell like guillotines, moving so fast that one had already appeared right before Theron’s forehead before he could even recover.

However, in that instant, Theron’s body shifted, pivoting just the slightest bit. The blade passed across his face, its speed fluttering his robes and nearly splitting them in two.

At the same moment, Theron unsheathed his father’s short sword, pouring his new Runebound Resonance into it.

THRUM.