Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player-Novel



The Esoteric Skill—or rather the Secret Art—Kieran unleashed was a supercilious weapon-type technique. Though supercilious, its imposing presence was affirmed by the oppressive waves of bloodlust that radiated from it.

Even the current Adeia felt stifled under its strange pressure, its immense figure yet to begin its descent. Then again, the possibility of this happening was also unknown. 

The mystique of this technique's nature and Kieran's current condition left much to be desired. 

Amassing enough blood, Mana, and mental energy had imposed a burden so great that Kieran's body seemed moribund, teetering on the verge of a miserable death.

Without his earlier determination to show Adeia that imposed limits were not concrete, inexorable or absolute, Kieran wouldn't have mustered the willpower to call upon this Secret Art.

Still, with time, or perhaps many other contributing factors, limits could be broken, even if such behavior stipulated massive consequences.

Luckily for Kieran, who accumulated his power through naturally abundant fortuitous encounters, he possessed a trump card that most other players couldn't boast of having.

A massive amount of UAP.

With that thought in mind, Kieran used what remained of his clarity to stimulate the Character Panel. A second later, the more than 400 UAP vanished from the unallocated section.

〈System: Your base VIT has increased to 1,460.〉

Factoring in the effects of his Refined Blood, as well as the exhausted UAP, Kieran's VIT swiftly skyrocketed to unprecedented levels, levels not typically seen in Intermediate Beings. 

Though, considering him to be one was incorrect. It would be more fitting to call the freakish amalgam of a man a Pseudo-Advanced Being.

Because of his encounters, a peculiar classification, unique and perhaps inimitable, had to be designated to Kieran.

"This bloody technique. That weapon…" Adeia's deflated stoicism morphed into something more indescribable, an emotion too complex to label. Nevertheless, a hint of fascination—of intrigue—flickered in her eyes, coming alive as she sensed something foreign and alien in the Sword of Vengeance above.

"A realization that everything one wishes to obtain must be relentlessly achieved. And once achieved… repay the suffering you've withstood," Kieran said. 

As he spoke, he sputtered and gurgled, coughing to clear out blood that had risen from all his internal wounds. The metallic and disconcerting taste lingered in his mouth, though it was not something he could fixate upon currently.

Armed with the slipshod reinvigoration of a massive amount of UAP being exhausted to increase his VIT, Kieran looked up and commanded the Sword of Vengeance by pulling the miniature copy from his heart. 

In response, a gaping wound was left, harrowing enough to make one's skin crawl, considering a portion of his beating heart was visible. Yet, Kieran stood straight, his aura becoming stalwart like a reinforced bastion.

Buried within that resilience, however, was a terrifying sensation. 

Rampant anger saturated with dark and ghastly intent, permeated by an ancient vengeance. It bloomed like a seed, germinating until the entire War Phantasmagoria was overwhelmed.

While that occurred, the blood spilling from Kieran's wound flowed into his open wounds as the Vampiric Blood Encrustation coating his arms and legs reacted strangely. Though, the technique's odd behavior wasn't involuntary. It all fell within Kieran's purview, but it was a cumbersome decision.

One could even say he was foolish to behave this way, yet he did. That was because he understood he had to somehow resist and triumph above the War Phantasmagoria. 

If possible.

Sometimes, one's goals were completely unattainable. Simply wild dreams meant to serve as a source for feverish and arduous travails.

The Vampiric Blood Encrustation extended far above Kieran's arms and legs, reaching his shoulders and waist instantly. From there, an eerily solid breastplate of blood bearing the sinister Mark of the Maddened coalesced. 

The pallor of Kieran's skin worsened, but he cleared the minimum requirements needed to access this technique without burdening the Seed of Vengeance.

And now that he couldn't rely upon Deranged Spirit or Abhorrent Paroxysm, he had to resort to more drastic measures. 

A debilitating and macabre alternative.

"Ancient Crimson Aegis!"

Following his low and guttural phrase, a surge of vitality exploded from Kieran's body, followed by him disappearing from where he stood. 

Adeia was already staggering backward when he reappeared, her sword-wielding arm trembling.

Surprisingly, Crimson Ashrune remained embedded in the ground, meters away from Kieran's current position. In Kieran's hand, the previous dagger-like short sword had grown in size, while the edified weapon of mass murder in the sky disappeared.

Of course, it didn't truly disappear. Instead, the energy had condensed an ungodly number of times until it became heavy enough to amplify its oppressive presence while confining it to a limited range. 

The Secret Arts' name referred to its specialty. By manifesting immense levels of harbored resentment, one could impose the weight of their rage on their surroundings. As Kieran moved, several depressions formed in the damp soil.

However, this technique wasn't the reason for his current ferocity, whether in striking power or enviable movement capabilities. That all came from the Blood Ignition and Imperfect Blood Armor encasing his body.

Despite his superficial grasp of the technique, simply the First Form of the Ancient Crimson Aegis was already a force to be reckoned with. 

When wielded in conjunction with the Sword of Vengeance, a Secret Art that threatened to snatch Kieran's mind with every subsequent slash, Kieran reached the extreme limits of desperation.

Meanwhile, Adeia stared at Deidamia, mainly the small nick in its edge. 

"I swung my blade, but the sensation of it was odd. Completely foreign and unlike what I intended to unleash."

Though Kieran's speed was nonsensical at this point, Adeia's tempered instincts could still track him. 

Yet, it wasn't enough. 

Her body was strained by an unfamiliar weight, one she couldn't account for in the moment.

This resulted in her current defeat. 

Strangely enough, however, the damage done to the weapon healed a second later. It was, after all, a fabrication of this trial ground.

If the Bloodied Fountain's energy remained abundant, Deidamia could recover from any damage it sustained.

Granted, this applied to opponents that didn't stand at the edge of depravity.

The clangor of Kieran's barbarous assault thundered throughout the War Phantasmagoria. 

Even when the Imperfect Blood Armor began to crack in some areas, exposing pieces of his mortifying and severely damaged skin, Kieran stubbornly continued, hellbent on receiving that glorious message of triumph.

Adeia attempted and even sometimes successfully drove back his advances and retaliations. However, the rate at which she absorbed power from the crimson rivers revealed an evident deficit. 

"Have you felt it yet? This is the weight of desperation… the weight of my emotions," Kieran muttered.

"So that's the secret. You must have an exceptional teacher to possess a Secret Art like this. One that manipulates and refines an all-too-powerful emotion—anger," Adeia expressed.ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novelenglish.net . fire(.)nᴇt

Her face betrayed her attempts to conceal the astonishment she felt. Though, the emotion was transient, replaced by something morose. "Your blade is changing. It's becoming more bloodthirsty… maybe even too bloodthirsty. Careful, don't become a victim like I did."

"A victim? No, this is simply what desperation warrants. Some lose hope and become powerless, utterly hopeless in the face of despair. I choose not to be burdened by the restraints of hope."

"Even if the price of it is death? I shared that sentiment once."

"Death?" Kieran grunted, his blade pressed against Adeia in a struggle. Wavering within his eyes was a beast Kieran remained oblivious to. 

However, their desire and intentions aligned at this moment, allowing Kieran to speak the truth.

"I have defied death once before. Whether it was by the blessings of the gods or the curse of something ungodly… I will use that to my advantage. Unburdened by death. Unshackled from the fears of a typical human."

At that moment, a few chimes sounded in Kieran's ear as all of the crimson rivers erupted, threatening to paint the sky red just like the Sword of Vengeance previously accomplished. 

But all of that momentum flowed into Adeia. 

Then, a sea of 100,000 Fallen Ones rose from the ground, symbolizing the start of the 6th round. 

Nevertheless, Kieran continued.

Sadly, Kieran understood the bleak truth of his experience. He wasn't strong enough. He had completed what was demanded of him, but he didn't accomplish what he desired of himself.

The Imperfect Blood Armor continued to shatter, revealing a bloodied body underneath. If not for his Constitution, Resilience and VIT, the trial would have ended already.

The pure grit he displayed was deeply confounding. Unfortunately… it still wasn't enough.

"First Form: Nether Wail."

An unusually cold, emotionless and detached voice escaped Adeia's lips as Deidamia produced a deathly and deafening wail that pierced the air. The ground seemed to decay, growing lifeless as an arc of odious energy assailed Kieran's chest, instantly destroying the Imperfect Blood Armor's breastplate.

Adeia had ascended to using her former techniques! 

Unable to contest any longer, Kieran fell to his knees, his gaze unfocused and weary. His body swayed as Adeia stood before him, a saddened look flashing in her picturesque beauty. 

Her visage could be considered an enthralling vista in itself.

"You revealed a power capable of destroying this place if matured. That much is true. Unfortunately, the Relic has accounted for anomalies like you. Why else do you think those promising youths are forbidden from entering this place after reaching a certain magnitude of power? For a moment… I foolishly let your words shake my heart. Now… goodbye, young boy."

"A…" Kieran muttered, his voice weak and his pulse thready. 

Before Adeia's final strike came, Kieran expressed his words after a bit of difficulty. "Aatrox. My name is… Aatrox."

"Very well, Aatrox. Forget about this own ghost and live your life."

Seconds later, Deidamia's edge pierced through Kieran's chest, exiting his back. The odachi's subtly curved blade dripped fresh blood.

"No… I will come back for you. I am… the Harbinger that will wrest you away from this place."

After speaking, Kieran's vision went black, and his body sank into the crimson river, leaving the despondent Adeia to stare wistfully into the distance.

"What is wrong with that boy—with Aatrox, I mean. He's a fool and even quite a moron. How can he claim to have no hope… but ask that I reinstate mine? I wonder… is he crazy?"