The Last Paragon in the Apocalypse

Oscar, the half-demon, was watching the fight with... probably a frown. No one, however, could tell if he was frowning under the hood, but the situation currently wouldn't sit well in his mouth.

Klaus is still alive... which is shocking.

Battered and bruised, but still alive.

The Shaman had lost his touch, let's say, by 40%, thanks to Klaus's perfect and well-calculated use of his Spirit weapon – The Void Piercing Needle.

The battle wasn't progressing as it should now... though his side was still winning... maybe they were winning in numbers.

His team handling Klaus was winning.

However, the side-taking on the Dragon was not having an easy time at all. The Succubus was, without a doubt, useless in the battle.

The Dragon is pure flame; it doesn't have a mind, a heart, or both, so she couldn't use her charm on it. This made it impossible for her to use her sensual body and charm to have her way on the battlefield.

She was caught in a net, with the only thing she was doing being to survive long enough for the Dark Elf to take care of the Fire Dragon.

Things were not looking so good for her either... but she was doing a little better than the Succubus, who lost her beauty thanks to Klaus's Fire Dragon roasting parts of her body.

She couldn't use her illusion on the dragon. Locking eyes with a fire dragon was useless in this aspect, so, basically, she was rendered ineffective.

Her charm wasn't affecting the dragon. In fact, everything about her screamed danger, but in her current state, charming even a honey bastard with her appearance would be difficult.

She was burnt in all the right places.

The Chaotic Nirvana Flame was not something to be underestimated.

Her healing was slow, and her movement wasn't fast either. She wasn't built for combat—at least, not on this battlefield. Her strength lay elsewhere—perhaps, the bedroom.

So, the dragon was having a field day with her.

The Dark Elf was also doing her best to kill the dragon, but she could only do so much with the Demon Killing Circle reinforcing the dragon's defences.

She was injured in some parts of her body, but she was doing far better than the seductress.

_____________

The last floor of the dungeon.

Lissa and Alida, who were paying close attention to the battle, stared intently at the screen. They didn't know why, but watching such a terrifying fight made them start to reevaluate things.

"Perhaps Master is too powerful," Lissa said, watching as Klaus destroyed the gem in the staff.

"It's to be expected. He had to be strong to survive. That's what he always said whenever we asked him, isn't it?" Alida responded with a brief smile.

"True, but this is eye-opening. It's like watching Master grow up all over again," Lissa said with a cheeky smile.

"I quite remember when we first met him. He was so tiny and full of hatred. I even wanted to eat him back then," Alida replied with a mischievous grin.

"Wouldn't that have been a bad thing? Because of him, we got to see so much and experience a full life. We'll be having that again," Lissa said.

Both Alida and Lissa smiled, their thoughts drifting to the past.

They may have been prohibited from discussing Klaus's past with him, but they could discuss it among themselves.

Their expressions revealed how much they had missed their master and how deeply they hoped he would pass this trial and return to them.

He was just a Saint now, yet several times more powerful than he had been when they first met him. In fact, fighting Ascendants now should have been impossible... and yet here he was.

The only question anyone could ask was: how in the hell is a Saint fighting five Ascendants simultaneously?

And he was winning. Terribly.

It just didn't make any sense.

But it was happening, and at the moment, everyone fortunate enough to witness it was left slack-jawed.

Of course, only three people got to watch it. Nobody else was graced with this wonderful battle against the odds.

Lissa and Alida were thrilled to see their master, battered and bruised, still holding on—and winning even.

Oscar didn't share the same opinion.

________________

'Jeez, fighting five Ascendants at the same time is not the best thing to do,' Klaus grimaced, wincing as he was thrown across the battlefield by the force of a wooden mallet.

His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, skidding several feet before coming to a stop.

Blood trickled from countless cuts and gashes, staining his torn clothing. His chest heaved with laboured breaths, his face twisted in pain, yet his eyes burned with determination.

Despite the gruesome injuries—minor and major alike—his body was slowly mending itself.

Luckily for him, his healing wasn't failing. He chuckled bitterly under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a pained smirk.

'Guess I've practically turned into a pseudo-immortal now, huh?' he muttered, his voice tinged with sarcasm and relief as he glanced down at the alien armour encasing his battered frame.

'Perhaps the trial hasn't been entirely unfair. It did give me something to face this challenge,' he said, clenching his fists.

Wincing, Klaus forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling under his weight. His jaw tightened, and he wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand, only to freeze as a shadow loomed over him. Find more to read at My Virtual Library Empire

The demon swordsman wasted no time.

With a feral grin and glowing demon eyes, he closed the distance in a flash, his blade slicing through the air. Klaus barely had a moment to react before the sheer force of the strike sent him flying once more.

His body crumpled like a ragdoll against the jagged rocks, but even as pain wracked his frame, his lips curled into a grim, defiant smile.

'I am not normal, I guess. But then again, I am what they call the breaker of rules... fuck, that doesn't taste good in my mouth.'

Klaus grinned, the corner of his lips quirking upward, and turned to face his five opponents. They were doing much better than him, yet he could tell they weren't happy with how things were unfolding.

No matter what they tried, Klaus just wasn't dying.

The alien Odachi wielder's displeasure was apparent even through his metallic face. His thick, wiry hair seemed to bristle with irritation, carrying his emotions in its movements.

The Orc Shaman was clearly furious. His soul item was gone, and with it, part of his soul had sustained damage. He still clutched his staff tightly, his knuckles white, his glare sharp enough to pierce stone.

The Troll, broad and blockheaded, looked as idiotic as ever—but even it couldn't hide its dissatisfaction.

Then, there was the shadowy figure shrouded in darkness. It lacked any visible expression, but Klaus knew the truth.

Beneath the façade of calm, the shadow seethed, frustrated that every near-fatal strike had been effortlessly blocked.

As for the demon dual-wielding Demon swordsman, his unease was betrayed by a subtle twitch in his tail when Klaus's eyes lingered on it a little too long.

Klaus smirked, his teeth glinting, and a catchphrase formed in his mind.

'Never bring a tail to a sword fight.'