I Only Summon Villainesses

Chapter 458: Battle Of Death

Tristan was not looking great. Blood dripped from one side of his face, but his cerulean eyes burned with a vicious light, and his white hair whipped and fluttered in the wind. The usual tiredness was gone from his gaze — though the dark circles beneath his eyes stayed where they always were.

He gripped his two daggers like his life depended on them.

It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say it actually did.

The creature he had been clashing with stood almost languidly, a lazy smile on his pale face. He looked like there was no blood beneath his skin at all. Madness and amusement burned in his eyes — though with this creature, the two seemed inseparable.

“You fight well, for a weak human.”

Tristan held a tight frown, and still managed a fierce grin.

“And you don’t seem to be taking me serious. Looks like you need to lose a limb to learn your lesson, huh.”

The creature laughed, razor-sharp teeth blazing. Then he twisted the laugh into a grin.

“You don’t have the grit to cut through me.”

Tristan giggled.

“We’ll see about that.”

Their movement resumed. Tristan vanished, and the raging sky bellowed in answer; Stormwhite was nowhere to be seen, but the storm tearing at the world around them was proof enough of his presence. Tristan crashed into the man, and the clash threw off a shockwave that sent sheets of snow exploding skyward, a tsunami of white rising against the dark.

Neither of them cared. Tristan threw his daggers, one hand flowing after the other — the first came down over the man, who blocked it with two fingers; the second twisted in Tristan’s grip and went for the throat.

The man only smiled. He intercepted the strike with a lazy slap, knocking Tristan’s hand clean off its path, and seized the other wrist, gripping so tight the muscle crushed and blood splattered out between his fingers.

Tristan gritted his teeth and made no sound.

Then he kicked off the ground, twisting impossibly into a whirling descent of heels that fell on the creature like a storm. The man had to let go of the hand and meet the kicks instead — his arms blurred, a dozen of them seeming to arrive at once, building a wall of defense nothing could break through.

Of course, Tristan had never expected them to land.

At the same time, a bolt of lightning dropped onto the man. But he was already gone, reappearing right behind Tristan, a wide and evil smirk on his face as he reached out almost idly, dark claws spreading like he meant to scoop up a handful of morsels.

Tristan’s whole body went cold, and his legs skittered him forward at a ferocious speed. As he flung himself clear, Stormwhite — in his feral state — lunged the other way and slammed into the creature.

The blow sent the man skidding back. Still, he held, digging a foot into the snow and stopping the summon’s barrage with nothing but raw strength. He grabbed a fistful of thick fur, twisted, wound his muscles tight, and hurled Stormwhite into the distant sky.

By then Tristan was already on him. His eyes were wide and blank, their blue light glowing furiously.

He descended like a hurricane of blades. He stabbed through the man’s sides, daggers twisting and turning in his hands, never sticking to one spot, every limb moving as one. He only had two, but they moved like six, and all six moved like one. The man was locked in place, throwing his claws everywhere to block each strike that came for him.

Then a grin froze on his face. The crimson third eye flicked back and forth, and his hands followed every pattern Tristan threw at him. He was learning it — slowly catching up.

But before he could, Tristan spun a kick out of nowhere and slammed his foot into the man’s jaw. The creature went rolling helplessly through the snow, and Tristan came after him without a breath. He stamped a kick down mid-roll, fisted the man’s hair, and dragged him plowing through the snow as he ran, terrible speed behind him. Then he yanked him off the ground and flung him just as he had flung Stormwhite.

Stormwhite happened to be on his way back, descending like a meteor of storm. The whole night darkened further, and the first pellets of rain began to fall through the snow.

For a heartbeat the creature hung in the black air. Then Stormwhite — a ball of nothing but storm and lightning — collided with him, and the shockwave ripped across the entire sky. The falling rain flowed in reverse, gathering into beads of water that hung and turned, each one mirroring the catastrophe below as it drifted upward.

Then everything was rent apart. It was as though space itself had been wound open and stitched shut before anyone could see it happen. The man went skidding through the snow, kicking a vicious ridge of white into the air; Stormwhite settled fully into his physical storm and smashed a deep crater into the ground, clearing every flake of snow from the area.

Tristan had a moment to breathe. He panted hard, a faintly distraught look crossing his face.

‘This is quite annoying…’

“Can you really be lazing around like that?”

Tristan’s eyes went wide. He staggered forward, heart thudding, and turned — only to find the creature standing with his arms folded behind his back. His skin was as smooth as a porcelain jar. Not a single scratch.

And the devious grin had never left.

He was dressed in a strange dark-purple garb, eastern in cut — layered below, but above only a single sheet of linen seemed to have been laid across him, so his torso and arms stayed bare. That was how Tristan could be sure of it: for all the explosive power behind every strike, the creature had taken no damage at all.

Tristan glanced down at his own peeled knuckles, still folded tight around his daggers.

The creature only smiled.

“I guess I should end this… Uio is waiting.”

He lowered his stance, battle-ready, and spread his hands. A deadly violet aura erupted out of him and reared up into the shape of a colossal serpent. Then the snakes coiled on his body began to crawl toward his limbs — two to his hands, two to his legs — and merged into the edges of them, leaving behind a dark-purple pattern of scales.

His eyes blazed with nothing but death.

And Tristan was suddenly, completely certain of it.

‘I’m going to… die?’

He had never felt killing intent like it in his life.

Update rate may seem slow, that is because I have been spending more time, reading and studying, as we are reaching a very important battle, I need my skills to match up. Shiii, I hope it’s paying off at least.