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Apocalypse Healer - B3 Chapter 16 Interlude
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 10:00:05 +0000 UTCWilliam looked calmly at the writhing figure sprawled on the ground, his features void of emotion.
“How about you stop resisting? It’s not like you can do anything in your state either way,” he asked, his tail whipping toward the elf, snapping his soulbound bow with one bite.
“W-why…” the elf groaned, eyes moist as he locked gazes with William.
William stepped closer and bent down slightly, his fist driving into the man’s gut, piercing what remained of his armor in one clean strike.
“Why? Because you are a Champion. You may be a weak one—third-rate compared to the real deal—but that makes you the perfect practice target,” William answered, seeing no need to hide the truth. The man, Champion of a Minor God, wouldn’t live to tell the tale either way.
He didn’t even need to finish him off directly. The Champion’s metal armor had already been shredded to bits, and the leather parts wouldn’t last much longer as the acid feasted on them. The sizzling of corroding leather mingled with the scent of blood, acid, and burning flesh, forming a noxious harmony with the pained groans and helpless eyes fixed on him.
“I expected to find hatred in your eyes. But despair and helplessness make sense as well.”
William never averted his gaze. He continued staring into the Champion’s eyes as his tail snapped forward again. A hiss echoed as the serpent-headed tip of the tail opened its maw, revealing a glistening pair of fangs that clamped shut around the Champion’s neck.
The serpent’s fangs dug deep, and William watched the elf’s eyes widen in terror. Yet even as the Champion’s strength ebbed away, he never looked at William with hatred.
“That should be enough. I think,” William said, tilting his head, his voice still devoid of emotion.
He studied the elf as liquid death pumped through his veins, dyeing them venomous green.
Seconds passed in silence. The Champion was too weak to speak; feeble groans escaped his lips, and tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, while William waited in silence.
“Hmm. Looks like I need to do something, or he’ll die before I get it.”
He spread his claws, wondering if gutting the Champion while he was still alive would help with the extraction. But no further action was necessary—something anchored deep within the elf was released.
Energy, translucent and inconspicuous, swirled through the elf’s dying body. It resisted valiantly but surged toward his neck regardless. Once there, it seeped out and entered William’s body through the serpent’s fangs.
Power flooded him, filling every corner of his form. He raised an eyebrow, the scales on his body clattering as the energy coursed through him.
“That is stronger than I thought. Probably a good decision to go for the weakest link first,” William mused, feeling the unfamiliar power fuel him. The energy wasn’t yet his, but it filled him all the same.
It retaliated, tried to tear him apart—but failed miserably. His body, transformed and reinforced by Zephir, was not something a faint trace of Divinity could destroy. Especially not one rooted in a nature-based, non-violent Divinity.
Still, the Fragment of the Poisonous Beast God within him stirred. It reacted violently to the influx of energy, initiating a clash between Divinities.
If one could even call it that.
The Divinity within the Champion was merely a weak trace from a Minor God, empowering a third-rate warrior. It barely warranted a mention in the grand scheme of things.
Regardless, it was a beginning.
William had to start somewhere—and that’s exactly what he had done. He had waited a long time, prepared extensively. And he had succeeded.
His serpentine eyes drifted to the dozens of elves who had fallen victim to his ambush, a hiss slipping from his split tongue.
Their deaths may not have been warranted, but William ended their lives anyway. Each one granted him more power. And while not as important, the dead couldn’t speak. They couldn’t tell anyone what had happened here.
He turned back to the Champion, no longer bothering to restrain the Poisonous Beast God’s Fragment. He let it feast on the Divinity still streaming into his body. William half-expected resistance, but the Champion’s faint groans were the only thing resembling a protest. The Fragment crushed the weak Divinity like a fly and devoured it without hesitation, making its power William’s own.
The Fragment refined the energy flooding into him until it suited William perfectly.
He hissed in ecstasy, power surging through him.
That was exactly what he wanted. What he had been waiting for.
It was what he needed. Power.
That’s not enough. I want more. I need more power!
The addictive sensation overwhelmed him, filling him to the brim and bringing a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in months.
He watched the light in the Champion’s eyes finally fade—but it left him unmoved. There was no remorse. Only the thrill of growing stronger. The only thing that brought him bliss.
After all, the joy of growing stronger was all he had left.
William triggered his Authority with a wave of his hand. The dead Champion and his fallen allies erupted in waves of poisonous fog, which he absorbed as well.
“That was a nice appetizer.”
He balled his claws into a fist, the ecstasy of power still pulsing through him as he looked up—toward a wide-open plain and the silhouette of a distant city glimmering on the horizon.
The presence of more Champions called to him.
More prey awaited.
