In Another World, All Milfs Will Be Mine-Chapter 181: [ - - ]

Leo finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to catch his breath.

A thin, glistening string of saliva bridged the gap between their swollen lips for a fleeting second before snapping.

He looked deeply into her eyes, wanting to see if anything changed in them.

For a second, nothing changed, but then, the air changed.

The heavy, metallic smell of blood vanished, replaced by the sharp, stinging scent of thunder.

The hair on Leo’s arms stood straight up, as invisible sparks of wild mana crackled over his skin.

He instinctively pulled away from Seraphine, as she stood up.

The terrified look on her face from moments ago was gone. She looked calm, and distant.

Right as Leo watched her, Seraphine’s usual amber irises began to ignite, shifting and burning until they transformed into pools of blinding gold.

The raw lightning storming within her gaze was so intensely bright that it spilled outward from her sockets, casting sparks that made Leo’s hair stand.

Wild arcs of Golden-white lightning began to crackle and whip around her, weaving together to form a violent, shimmering barrier of pure mana.

Her long, golden hair caught the immense lightening and defied gravity to fan out like a halo of spun sunlight, every single strand dancing and snapping with untamed power.

CRACK!

A thick arc of Golden-white lightning erupted from her shoulder, striking the wooden table and blowing it to splinters.

The two Devil Mask assassins who were just a few feet away from them froze in their tracks shocked beyond their wildest dreams to take a step forward.

Their instincts screamed at them to run away.

But even before they could decide what to do, Seraphine raised her right hand, and pointed her finger towards them.

BOOM!

A bolt of uncontrollable lightening shot from her hand, and hit the assassin closest to them dead in the centre of his chest.

The Devil Mask assassin remained standing at his spot. It was like his nervous system was burnt out.

He stood their silent, without letting out a whimper of the sound. Slowly, he bent his neck to look down on his chest when he saw the big hole in his chest.

That bolt of lightning melted his robe instantly, and then went on to blow his chest cavity wide open.

His ribs shattered outward, and his heart turned to ash in the blink of an eye.

Finally, after standing rooted to his spot for a full minute, the cauterized top half of his body flopped backward, landing with a heavy thud.

The second Devil Mask killer looked at his brother with his jaws wide open for a while. It was too fast for him to react, and too effortless for this woman.

Panic surged in his body. He wanted to run, get out of her sight. But he knew that this woman was too powerful to let him leave. He could only fight his way out of this.

He lunged forward, swinging his curved blade at Seraphine’s neck, wanting to end it one strike.

But he was mistaken. When his blade was just inches away from her neck, Seraphine’s hand shot out and with her bare hand and grabbed the sharp blade between his two fingers.

"You..." The Devil mask killer looked at her in horror as he tried to pull it back, but her grip was like a vice.

Lightning surged from her palm into the sword. The sword glowed cherry red, then blinding white. The assassin shrieked as the heat traveled up the hilt, melting the leather grip into his palms.

Seraphine stepped forward, completely ignoring the burning steel. She grabbed the man by the throat.

"Die," she whispered. Her voice sounded layered, echoing with a strange, metallic distortion.

She channeled the electricity directly into his neck.

The assassin’s body convulsed violently. His legs kicked out. Smoke poured out from under his bone mask. The fluid in his eyes literally boiled. With a sickening pop, his eyeballs ruptured inside the mask.

Seraphine threw his smoking, twitching corpse across the room like a piece of trash.

The entire banquet hall stopped fighting.

The Blackfang bandits, the surviving Royal Guards, and the Devil Masks all turned to stare at the Goddess of Death.

Seraphine hovered inches above the ground, the golden light radiating from her eyes. Arcs of lightning chained between her hands, snapping and popping loudly in the dead silence.

She looked down at the mass of assassins in the centre of the room. She raised both hands high above her head.

"Oh shit," Leo muttered, grabbing Ryana by the waist and diving behind whatever remained of the Lord’s chair.

Seraphine brought her hands down.

A web of lightning exploded outward. It chained from one Devil Mask to the next. The magic was brutal and indiscriminate.

Men screamed as their nervous systems overloaded. Armor superheated, cooking them alive inside their own gear. The smell of burning hair and roasted human meat filled the air, making Ryana gag and retch behind the chair.

One of the Devil Masks tried to run for the window. A stray bolt caught him in the back of the head. His skull exploded like an overripe melon, showering the wall in brain matter and gore.

Lord Aris stood near the entrance, his staff lowered. He watched as the widow of the former Lord of Auravale who was barely known by anyone until she was claimed by this man, butchered these elite assassins like pigs in a slaughterhouse. His eyes were wide with genuine, unfiltered shock.

"Fall back!" someone from the ranks of the Devil Masks cried out, his voice cracking with panic. He pointed a shaking, bloody blade at Leo, "Enjoy your stolen throne, Usurper! This is just the beginning! The True Heir will return for you!"

He reached into his belt and pulled out a small, black sphere. He slammed it hard into the cobblestones.

FWOOSH.

A cloud of thick, inky black smoke erupted into the room. It smelled like sulphur and rotting eggs. It was incredibly dense, blinding everyone and choking their lungs.

The sound of coughing filled the hall, quickly followed by the sharp twang of grappling hooks firing into the wooden rafters.

By the time the thick smoke finally began to clear, drifting out through the shattered skylight, the surviving assassins were gone.

Silence returned to the banquet hall, broken only by the crackle of small fires and the groans of the dying.

Up on the dais, the golden light in Seraphine’s eyes suddenly flickered.

The lightning dancing around her fingers fizzled out with a weak pop. The immense, terrifying pressure in the room vanished.

Seraphine gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head. She went completely limp, dropping like a stone.

Leo was already on the move. He lunged forward, and caught her before she hit the bloody floor.

Her body was incredibly hot to the touch, covered in a slick layer of sweat. Her breathing was shallow and erratic, and she was unconscious.

Leo pulled her against his chest, cradling her head. He was panting, his own adrenaline finally crashing. He looked down at her pale face, then at his blood-soaked hands.

"What the fuck was that?" Leo whispered to himself.

Ryana crawled out from behind the chair. She didn’t bother trying to stand. She just sat on the floor, staring at the charred, smoking corpses scattered around the room. Her whole body was shaking.

"Is it over?"

The hall was a complete disaster.

The long wooden tables were smashed. The expensive food was mixed with severed limbs, spilled intestines, and coagulated blood.

Six Royal Guards lay dead in a pile, their silver armours dented and stained red. More than a dozen Blackfang Bandits were either dead or missing their limbs.

Belladonna walked slowly across the room, as she dragged her heavy sword behind her, the metal scraping against the stone. She looked exhausted, but her dark eyes were burning with a savage sort of satisfaction.

General Arthur was on his knees near the centre of the room. He was holding the body of one of his young guards.

The boy’s throat had been cut wide open. Arthur’s face was covered in tears and blood. He wasn’t yelling anymore. He was just rocking back and forth, staring at the carnage in pure disbelief.

Slowly, Lord Aris walked through the slaughterhouse.

The Royal Inspector’s pristine grey robes were scorched at the hem and speckled with dark blood. He stepped over the melted remains of an assassin, his face a mask of grim calculation.

He didn’t look at his dead guards. He didn’t look at the naked Bandit Queen.

He walked straight towards the dais.

Aris stopped at the bottom of the steps. He looked up at Leo.

Leo was sitting on the floor, his clothes ruined, holding the unconscious, lightning-wielding Lady tightly against his chest.

Aris looked at Leo, acknowledging the sheer, terrifying power the boy commanded.

"Lord Leo," Aris said. His voice was heavy, flat, and dead serious.

"We need to talk."

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