Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

As Adam's voice pierced the chaotic battlefield noises, Heracles shook his head.

Jaw clenched, his eyes darted between his Nemean hide and the sparkling red hand gripping it.

"On my knees?" He spat, his fingers trembling around his club. "You're no warrior, a coward I'll crush much more easily than the beasts and gods I fought!"

Disdain curling his lips and anger clouding his eyes, he rushed at Adam valiantly. Losing the hide? It didn't matter when his half-divine muscles could endure this puny dragonling's strikes.

His club whistled, pressuring the howling wind before Adam.

However, as Wukong said, skills would always prevail if the strength difference wasn't overwhelming... just like now.

Animated by his sharp instincts, Adam lept. Spinning above the missed blow, flames burst from his feet to increase his momentum as his leg split the air like an axe.

BAM

A shockwave spread from the impact between his burning foot and Heracles' head.

Through his dancing hair, he scrutinised his victim, only to leap back urgently: he had dealt no damage.

WOOSH

Heracles' hand blurred in his eyes the next second, his club roaring a centimeter from his torso.

A leg as big as both his arms pierced the air next. Like a hammer, it shoved an angry gale toward his stomach before he recovered his balance.

Yet, he smirked and bent aside. Fluid as water, his handless arm rose while his sword lowered, dodging the strike by a hair's breadth.

Like propellers, red flames burst from his left stump and right backhand, making them blur in Heracles' widening eyes.

His elbow came first, colliding with the muscular leg and forcing it downward before his dark blade cleaved upward.

His eyes rolled in pleasure as he felt it dig into Heracles' iron-like skin.

However, he let it go—a split second before his adversary grunted and pulled his leg back, avoiding being dragged with it.

But something more important drew his attention—a scent, a brilliant liquid: the golden blood seeping from the shallow cut he had carved.

A tense silence settled as his heart drummed in his ears. Desire, hate, thirst, they all melded in his twisted mind as he sneered.

"I'll bleed you like the brainless bull you are."

Flames melting the ground under his feet, he licked his lips as his figure blurred. Dark lights crisscrossed the air as he unleashed a downpour of strikes.

Each strike grew more vicious, drawing blood from shallow wounds as Heracles struggled to fend him off. Worse, he bit his lips as the image of Achilles' rage-driven and relentless fighting style melded with Adam's movements.

No... he realised it after another failed swing. Adam's flames and instinctive movements gave him a higher potential—one he had to snuff before it developed.

As their battle raged on the blood-soaked battlefield's center, Achilles' eyes narrowed into slits, the Styx grey waters already wafting from them. Standing amidst the chaotic noises of soldiers fighting for their lives on the left wing, he scrutinised the handsome man smirking at him.

"I heard you were the most skilled spearman in your pantheon." Cu Chulainn spun his red spear, the blood smearing its tip flying. "I expected better."

"Hahaha." An icy laughter escaped Achilles' lips as his eyes darted to his bleeding heel. "I wonder who told you so many things about me. Probably a fool tired of his comfortable life."

Cu Chulainn shrugged. "Does it matter? You'll die soon, anyway."

Achilles exhaled loudly. Empty taunts were useless, especially when his steaming rage threatened to burst. What skill was this gigolo talking about when he had relied on his spear's divine enchantments to wound him?

"Shit... I don't want to use it." He muttered, his fingers loosening around his bronze spear. "But I'm not taking any risks." His hand cleaved upward as he thundered. "Come, Pelian Ash Spear!"

Thunder rumbled above him before a shooting star sundered the dark clouds.

BAM

It fell before him like a meteor, rising dust and digging a smoldering pit.

Cu Chulainn waved his hand, dissipating the dust obscuring his vision to observe his adversary's last trick.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

That's when he saw the divine engravings pulsing on the spear's wooden frame. The tip glinted with incredible sharpness, but there was something more... something that sent an icy shiver down his spine.

Before he thought about the reason, Achilles stated it.

"The spear of the fated hero... It reminds me of my teacher and father, but I hate what it embodies."

He gripped the ash wood from Mount Pelion, Chiron's region, as its incredible weight pressed on his palm.

"Similar to your weapon, it deals double damage to anyone with divine, magical, or heroic lineage. As for the other enchantments?"

He raised the spear, a bolstering light covering the army as he roared.

"You're all Harmony's heroes! Ignore our battle and kill those northern dogs!"

Garduck, Bart, the Amazones and other demons tightened their fists, a surge of power rushing through their veins with the light.

Feeling stronger, they fought with double the rage and began eviscerating all the humans before them. Yet, a bald man and his division slipped through the chaos and circled the battlefield to reach their rear lines.

Meanwhile, the wind whipped against Achilles' golden armor. In a ferocious blur, he charged Cu Chulainn. Not giving him a second to answer, his spear drew a golden arc to separate his infuriating head from its neck.

However, he clicked his tongue as Cu Chulainn did it again!

His red spear and body seemed to move without purpose, a pure, chaotic dance he failed to understand... That's what made it lethal beyond his comprehension.

As before, Cu Chulainn's weapon spun around his body, creating a defensive whirlpool.

CLANG

The shaft collided with his spear, the noise deafening them. However, this time it was different.

"RAH!"

He pushed harder, using his spear's surreal weight to his advantage. After all, strength was the only prerequisite to equip it.

Taken off guard, Cu Chulainn's arms bent back, sweat dripping down his brows as he bit his lip.

Without thinking, he lunged on the side and kicked his spear's tip.

Propelled upward, it cleaved the air in a red arc, only to be deflected by Achilles' shield with a derisive snort.

"I admit it. Your unpredictable movements make you the best spearman, but that's it."

He shoved the weapon aside with his shield and planted his foot forward, his spear already drawn back and ready to pierce his adversary.

"I'm no spearman. I'm the greatest warrior the world has ever seen!"