Mythology Rebooted-Chapter 55 - 52 My Style is Above Yours 3rd Update Seeking Monthly Pass

55: Chapter 52: My Style is Above Yours (3rd Update, Seeking Monthly Pass)

55: Chapter 52: My Style is Above Yours (3rd Update, Seeking Monthly Pass)

In any era, the killing power of firearms is terrifying, and a group of unarmed infected trying to rush through a hail of bullets is clearly doomed.

They didn’t even see the machine guns, as they died on their way to the mansion, picked off by the precision marksmanship of sniper rifles.

The lawn area is too large!

In a sense, what killed them was financial capability.

Outside the main house, the butler had people stack sandbags and mount two machine guns, creating a maximized crossfire network.

Two maids, each manning a machine gun, their robust figures seemingly unaffected by the weapons’ recoil.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t open fire.

The heads were all taken by the sniper maid on the roof.

Wayne sat behind the sandbags, under a parasol, reclining in a deck chair, with sunglasses and tea, while the monocle-wearing butler stood at attention beside him.

Thinking back to the disciple who had just spat out tentacles, he guessed that these people had been parasitized by raw eggs and said with a chill of revulsion, “How disgusting those tentacles are, so very ugly!”

The butler and maids weren’t panicked by the disciple’s appearance; they were aware of the existence of magic and had undergone professional training, especially the butler, who had once impressively taken down four mages head-on.

There’s that saying again, within seven steps, a gun is both accurate and fast.

Wayne picked up the binoculars and looked at the tentacles hanging from the sky above the town, furrowing his brows without speaking.

It seemed that the sacrificial ritual had already begun, and it was uncertain whether Isabella could endure.

Had the townspeople gathered by the Earth Core Cult already been parasitized?

Wayne had no fondness for the Earth Core Cult, neither in terms of justice nor personal vendetta—there was no way he could feel any goodwill towards them.

Even if it were the Void Lord, the head of the transport regiment, Wayne was unwilling to utter a word of thanks; why should he show gratitude for seizing the Four Elements by his own skills?

The arrival of the disciples made Wayne realize he was targeted by the Void Lord.

If Isabella were to fall, a large number of mutated disciples would converge on the mansion, along with powerful mages like cult leaders and grand cult masters.

If the entire population of Enrold Town were to mutate, the zombie-like siege situation sent shivers down Wayne’s spine just thinking about it.

He believed that the butler and maids could hold the mansion for fifty-eight days.

He just felt it was a pity that the townspeople were innocent and shouldn’t have to suffer this calamity.

“I hope Isabella doesn’t disappoint my teacher…”

Wayne murmured to himself when he suddenly sensed a ripple of magic power.

There was another expert!

He rose to his feet, instructing the butler to remain vigilant as he stared in the direction of the magic power ripple.

On the lawn, where snipers had exploded the bodies of disciples, the remaining twisted torsos crawled together, blood and flesh layering and combining to ooze white foam, forming a single entity.

The flesh mass, covered in limbs and ghastly pale faces, rolled toward the sandbag position in a frenzied sprint.

Its target was Wayne.

The two machine guns immediately opened fire, with fiery streaks crossing each other, targeting the rapidly rolling meatball, exploding it into chunks of blood and flesh.

The level lawn ensured there were no blind spots for gunfire, but it only slowed the meatball’s movement, unable to completely stop it or shred it to pieces.

Boom!

The meatball must have hit something, as it was sent flying half a meter by a violent explosion, then upon landing, it tripped the steel wires already laid out, igniting a series of flame serpents rising into the air.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Continuous explosions followed, with underground incendiary bottles detonating, attaching to the blood and foam, purified by intense heat.

The effect was exceptional; the blood and flesh, which had been infected and were progressively assimilating with starfish, were highly flammable, and soon the lawn was blotted with curtains of fire and black smoke.

Wayne raised his hand and accepted the silk handkerchief handed to him by Philark, covering his mouth and nose.

The incendiary bottles were crafted by the butler, who added high-adherence motor oil to the gasoline as per Wayne’s instructions, making the flames difficult to extinguish.

Now and then, a blinding white light sparked, as bright as phosphorus.

Philark: Magnesium powder, I added magnesium powder!

To ensure potent, high-temperature sterilization, the butler wrapped the area around the incendiary bottles with magnesium powder; as a professional butler, he was quite skilled in making incendiary bottles.

As for the lawn being destroyed, the butler didn’t concern himself; a phone call, and Lundan would have a new lawn delivered.

Wayne, wearing sunglasses, appreciated the butler’s meticulous care, and couldn’t imagine how messy life would become without him in three months.

Wayne didn’t have long to dwell on these thoughts, as an unexpected change occurred on the field.

Over ten earth figures, like rotten mud, shot up from the ground, walking through the crossfire toward the sandbags.

Enhanced versions of the Slime Monster, indifferent to bullet wounds, they merged rapidly and were nearly physically immune.

They trudged through the minefield, advancing despite the blasts.

Wayne frowned, closing his eyes to sense the presence of any magic practitioners around him.

The result was not very encouraging.

Not only was their magical knowledge above his, but their ability to conceal their magic was also highly adept; his keen sense couldn’t detect any trace.

Wayne was itching to try his hand, crouching down with both hands on the ground.

In terms of magical ability, he might not be on par with his opponent, but when it came to the reserve of magic power…

Hehe, my style surpasses yours!

Walls of earth rose one after another, trapping the Slime Monster and freezing it in place.

With an underdog victory, Wayne used basic magic to defeat advanced magic.

Basic, in Wayne’s view, though Bishops Kent and Melville did not consider the walls of earth to be basic magic, and Wayne’s ability to effortlessly summon more than ten walls also posed a difficult challenge for the two Bishops.

The Saint Heir’s magic power was enormous, and his will was firm enough to ensure he could release and control more than ten spells at the same time.

It was no longer possible to take the Saint Heir away by conventional means!

Magic power ripples spread out, and storm clouds surged overhead the villa, lightning snakes racing within, heralding the imminent downpour.

A light dawned before Wayne’s eyes, and he quickly pinpointed the source of the magic power fluctuations, speaking rapidly, “Two o’clock direction, fifty meters.”

Philark nodded, pushed the briefcase on the table aside, and pressed down with precise aim.

With a loud boom, dirt and putrid blood splattered as the shockwave carried the charred half-corpses into the air, taking the ever-cautious Bishop Melville with them.

He had been cautious enough, but poverty limited his imagination—he never expected the Butler to be so well-prepared.

The storm clouds above the villa dissipated quickly, and at Wayne’s signal, the Butler’s hands swiftly danced, explosions echoing one after another, plowing through the lawn in front of the building. freeweɓnøvel.com

The ground was scorched, with gunpowder smoke rising, the pungent smell spreading in all directions with the rising heat waves.

“Young Master Wayne, the enemy is dead, and it seems there are no other intruders,” Philark said, bowing as he offered Wayne a silk handkerchief to cover his nose.

“I understand, thank you for the reminder.”

Wayne nodded, took a deep breath, and took the handkerchief in one hand while pressing the other to the ground.

The cover of The Book of Greed turned its Great Eyeball towards nature, establishing a connection.

Obscure information flowed into the eyeball, infesting Wayne’s body and turning his pure white magic power green.

Veins on the back of Wayne’s hand bulged as copious amounts of magic power, far exceeding that of an average Mage apprentice, surged underground; blades of grass shot up rapidly, and countless vines raced and intertwined beneath the soil.

The lawn around the villa churned like the ocean in a storm, waves rolling tumultuously.

Amid the roaring waves and the swirling undercurrents, hundreds of vines wove and intersected, forming an enormous net that tightened, searching for any possible hiding big rats.

Boom!

A Flame Wind Blade cut a square on the earth’s surface, and Bishop Kent leaped out, shouting loudly, “Saint Heir, I am Bishop Kent of the Earth Core Cult, here on the Void Lord’s orders to retrieve you.

I am not your enemy.”

Wayne ignored him; he was not on the same side as the Earth Core Cult—righteous allies and evil villains could never walk the same path.

He increased the magic power output.

Hundreds of vine palms emerged from the ground, grouping in twos and threes, forming grabby hands that reached for Kent.

Kent certainly wasn’t going to sit idly by.

He called out, trying to awaken Wayne’s sense and conscience, pleading with the Saint Heir to stop being willfully blind.

Meanwhile, he levitated, magic power ripples exploding beneath his feet as he changed direction midair, dodging the encircling vines.

He wielded wind blades and flames, dispersing the vines he couldn’t avoid.

Boom!

Wayne’s magic power burst forth again, and more enormous vine hands drilled from the ground, offsetting the gap between himself and Kent with sheer numbers until one finally grasped Kent’s ankle.

The vines constricted, and intense pain disrupted Kent’s thoughts.

As more vine hands enwrapped him, a vegetative sphere in mid-air tightened into a solid form.

“Hehe, got you now!”

A spark flickered in Wayne’s eyes as the vine sphere burrowed deep into the ground, and then he clenched his open hand into a fist forcefully.

Thump!

A muffled sound, very faint.

There was no scream, nor any sound of breaking or compression—Kent departed in utter silence.

Wayne sighed and turned to Philark, “Butler, does this count as murder?”

“As far as I know, without evidence, it doesn’t count.”

“…”

Wayne rolled his eyes, about to make a retort when Philark pulled out a white cloth from his jacket pocket and began gently wiping Wayne’s hand.

“???”

Question marks floated across Wayne’s forehead.

What was this for?

“Young Master Wayne, you got your hand dirty.”

“…”

Wayne: (눈_눈)

Don’t be like that, Butler.

The more capable you are, the more afraid I am of losing you.