Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 2611

Andrew pushed himself off the ground and bolted, desperate to survive. His eyes were streaked with red, and his vision was blurring. However, his instinct to live and that last flicker of clarity in his mind refused to let him stop.

Behind him, Alfredo appeared once more. He did not rush to chase but stood there, face dark with irritation.

He muttered coldly, "Such unbelievable willpower… Chetvine's Lloyd family has such an outstanding descendant, yet Swordhaven Keep has none."

He thought of Jericho, the son he favored, who had howled in agony over a broken leg.

Alfredo felt an inexplicable irritation. He hissed, "Enough playing around. It's time for you to die."

However, the more relentless Andrew became, the more intense Alfredo's killing intent grew.

Alfredo smirked. His motion froze in midair before he vanished again. He was not here to kill. At least, not yet.

His real goal was to seize Godslayer first. Then, he would take his time executing this stubborn little brat. He would never feel secure until Godslayer was in his grasp.

Andrew had already lifted his arm, channeling everything he had left for one final strike. Yet, that fleeting moment between his actions was all Alfredo needed.

In a blink, Alfredo's figure solidified once more, this time on Andrew's other side. His hand darted out and caught the sword's edge directly. He grabbed Godslayer with his bare fingers, feeling its deadly sharpness.

For one intoxicating instant, he felt as if the entire world belonged to him.

Swordhaven Keep's greatest treasure, forged from generations of sacrifice, was finally his.

Yet, just as a proud smile began to form on his lips, he noticed something strange: Andrew was smiling too.

That wild, desperate face suddenly wore a faint, triumphant grin.

Alfredo's gut twisted. Something was wrong, though he could not figure out what. He was a martial god, a Sword Saint, so what danger could possibly threaten him?

Then, Andrew suddenly released the sword.

For a moment, Alfredo thought he had given up, surrendering to despair. But almost instantly, he realized something was off. After all, Reginald's son was not someone who would simply let go.

A sharp hum rang out, and a jolt of numbing energy shot through Alfredo's entire body. His eyes widened in disbelief.

It was rejection, a phenomenon that only occurred when a divine weapon possessed its own will. Godslayer was rejecting him!

The numbing sensation hit again, this time laced with burning pain. Blood began to seep from his palm as the sword had cut him.

Snarling, Alfredo unleashed his full power, divine energy surging through his veins as he tried to subdue Godslayer. Even a divine weapon had to bow to him. After all, he was the Sword Saint, the true master of the blade.

Unfortunately, he did not notice the fist that was already closing in.

He grumbled, "Dad, if you don't show up now, I'm going to be screwed for real. I know you're here somewhere. I'm done fighting, so stop stalling, or you're going to lose your only son."

The words made Alfredo pause, confusion flickering across his face.

The forest stayed silent, but Andrew looked utterly relaxed. It was as if he had handed over all responsibility and did not care anymore.

Alfredo snorted. "Still trying to bluff your way out of this? Pathetic. But fine. Let's say Reginald really is here. Even then, I'd kill him just the same."

Andrew did not respond. He just lay there, comfortable as ever.

Just as Alfredo lifted his foot to crush Andrew, the forest suddenly stirred. Wind swept through the trees, carrying a deep, amused voice.

"Alfredo, you're a renowned powerhouse in your own right. Picking on someone so much younger is just… tasteless. You like fighting that much? Fine. Come on then, I'll play with you. Should I let you have three free moves? Or perhaps 300? You name it. As your senior, I'll gladly spoil you with that privilege!"

Alfredo's foot froze midair. His eyes snapped wide open as rage and disbelief twisted his face.

"Reginald Lloyd!" he growled through clenched teeth, each syllable dripping with venom.

He would never forget this man's voice as long as he lived.