Chapter 100: The New King

Mr.1's self-crafted blade armor could indeed block Garen's sword strikes, but it could not withstand his ultimate technique, Demacia's Justice.

That sword light that pierced the heavens completely engulfed Mr.1's bald-headed killer's body, then burned straight through the outer layers of countless blades to sear into his skin.

After the light faded, Mr.1's bronze-colored massive muscles looked as if they had been roasted over raging charcoal fire, his skin scorched into a horrifying blend of black and red.

"Ah—"

Even Mr.1, such a hardened warrior, could not endure the agony that seared through his entire body and pierced to his core. He finally broke and cried out in pain.

Garen, meanwhile, carefully analyzed the effects of his attack:

He had only ever unleashed Demacia's Justice on enemies far weaker than himself, delivering nothing but cataclysmic destruction.

Over time, he had come to treat the move as an absolute one-hit kill.

But against Mr.1, an opponent whose power was nearly on par with his own, the damage proved far less horrifying than expected:

Although Mr.1's flesh had been torn open and his skin blackened by the unavoidable sword light, the wound had not reached his vital core. The blood qi within his body remained strong.

This was evident in his immediate reaction:

Once the pain subsided, Mr.1 launched a fierce, wind-like counterattack against Garen, his offensive utterly ruthless.

Yet it was all in vain.

Though he still possessed fighting strength, Mr.1 had been repeatedly battered by Garen.

An injured, pained, bleeding, and exhausted Mr.1 could never match the ever-fresh Garen in a war of attrition.

Opponents of equal strength posed no threat to him whatsoever.

Garen could simply exhaust a rival of comparable power to death by exchanging blows.

In the coming fight, Garen treated Mr.1 as his personal training partner and openly practiced the still-inexperienced Rokushiki technique, Shave.

Finally, despite his heavy injuries and desperate counterstrike, Mr.1 fell beneath Garen's blade.

"Laurent Heart-Eye Knife!"

Garen ended the battle with his modified Laurent Heart-Eye Knife. The devastating broad sword qi slashed straight at the depleted Mr.1.

The razor-sharp flying slash carved through the sturdy blade guarding Mr.1's chest along with his resilient body, bisecting him entirely and leaving two flawless, smooth cross-sections.

Mr.1's split body crashed to the ground, blood spraying everywhere.

Garen immediately gained the largest amount of experience since his awakening, his level surging instantly to level 8.

You have reached level 8 and received a random upgrade reward...

Random upgrade reward extraction in progress...

Skill obtained: Wrath of Justice—Your normal attacks gain special attack effects and special damage.

This skill's original version belonged to the hero Judgment Angel Kyle in the game, where it added area damage to normal attacks and greatly increased the hero's attack range.

On Garen's body, however, the modified version lost the range boost entirely, its description reduced to a single sentence.

Garen was puzzled and, unconcerned by the horrified stares around him, tested the skill directly beside Mr.1's mangled corpse:

"Wrath of Justice!"

The skill's activation stunned everyone.

They forgot the crimson blood staining the ground and fixed their eyes on Garen's massive sword:

The once-gorgeous blade suddenly ignited with raging holy flames after his activation, its brilliance dimming the sun in the sky.

The burning flames shimmered in an eerie golden red, magnificent and holy, resplendent and awe-inspiring—the name "Holy Flames" fit perfectly.

Garen pressed the flaming sword lightly against a discarded palace guard's blade on the ground. The finely crafted steel began to heat rapidly in the golden inferno, then softened and warped.

The flame's destructive power was obvious.

Garen could also sense that the holy flames coiled around the sword would intensify with his control, leaping up to a meter from the blade when fully unleashed.

In other words, the flame's damage and range would evolve alongside his growth.

Beyond its lethal effects, the visual spectacle was breathtaking, especially when combined with his other skills, pushing its beauty to the absolute limit:

Bravery enveloped Garen in a suit of light armor, while Wrath of Justice's holy flames intertwined with Fatal Strike's golden glow, perfectly embodying his title as the Justice Knight.

The nobles of Coa Kingdom had never respected strength, but seeing Garen now stirred instinctive fear and reverence for this sacred power.

As Garen's holy flames illuminated the battlefield, a timid figure crawled on the ground, trying to slip away unseen.

But for someone who had attacked a Celestial Dragon criminal, escape was impossible.

Garen ignored Strelli's subtle movements, while the old king who had taken Strelli's shot watched every move with a cold glare.

The old king's wounds were not fatal; he could still stand, clutching the injury.

His son, however, had been beaten unconscious under Strelli's gunfire, alive or dead unknown.

Even without the Celestial Dragon matter, the old king could not forgive this madman.

Before Strelli took two steps, the palace guards summoned by the old king seized him.

Mr.1, his sole support, lay dead at Garen's feet, while Strelli himself was pinned by a ring of muscular guards, his last hope extinguished.

"Strelli!"

The old king, pressing his bandaged wound, spoke in pure fury:

"What a waste of my trust!"

"You dared to attack Lord Garen and even fire on the royal family!"

Strelli looked ashen, silent, head bowed in despair.

The old king grew more agitated, spittle nearly reaching Strelli's face:

"Even if Lord Garen spares you, I will not!"

"All of you from the Autluk Family will die!"

Strelli kept silent, feigning lifeless resignation.

Bogjin watched the spectacle with a faint smile.

Seeing the impossible reversal, Bogjin's esteem for Garen as the overlord of the Eastern Sea rose sharply, and he lowered his own family's standing in the alliance.

At that moment, the hastily summoned royal physician rushed in and knelt before the old king, trembling.

The old king waved away the usual formalities and ordered the physicians to tend his son first.

The healers scrambled to the prince's side for emergency care.

"Hahahaha..."

The dazed Strelli suddenly burst into wild laughter:

"No need to save him! He's dead! They're all dead!"

"Nonsense!"

The old king clutched his gunshot wound, veins bulging: "At this hour, you still dare curse my son!"

"Cursing your son? Hahaha..."

Strelli laughed hysterically, his body collapsing onto the guards restraining him:

"I'm not cursing you!"

"What do you think I've done these past days, playing the dog for you?"

His grin fractured, twisting into madness:

"Do I enjoy wasting time listening to your old man babble and that fool prince's nonsense?"

"You!"

The old king panted heavily with rage.

The physicians wanted to caution him about his wounds but dared not approach his fury.

Strelli stared venomously: "I've mingled with you two fools every day just to steal the throne of Coa Kingdom!"

"Old man, I've already poisoned you and your son with an unsolvable chronic toxin!"

"Even without the bullet wound, you'll sicken and die in a few months!"

The old king's face drained of color, gasping for air.

The nobles gasped in shock.

Strelli added fuel to the fire:

"Marrying the princess to me obediently, you could have died quietly!"

"Now, the two of you... hahaha!"

"Silence! Shut up!"

The old king screamed hysterically: "When death is upon you, you still dare—"

His roar cut off. His breath became erratic, and the wound beneath his hands suddenly spurted.

Moments later, his frail body collapsed.

The physicians rushed forward, but from the old king's unfocused eyes, they learned the truth:

"The king... His Majesty has passed!"

"What?"

Another wave of shock rippled through the nobles:

"The old king is dead... The prince is gravely wounded and unconscious, poisoned with an unsolvable toxin..."

Everyone realized the crucial question:

"Who will inherit the throne?"

Their gazes turned to the Nandekanette Princess weeping beside the old king's body, barely able to stand.

The man supporting her—Wallace, who had stepped forward out of sympathy and gently held his bride—became the new center of attention.