He realized in that moment that he hadn't been gravitating toward the sword because it was the weapon for him. Rather, that was only his inner self subconsciously telling him that dividing his weapon prowess over so many disciplines was foolish.
The sword was only a gateway… A gateway that opened his heart to the idea of using just a single weapon… A gateway that led to the scythe!
"How good of you, Death… Bringing me exactly what I needed… Come!"
As though provoked, the rattling of shifting bones sounded from beneath Death's helmet. An instant later, a blood curdling scream was projected outward.
Dyon felt as though his brain was being turned to mush. He had heard Jasmine scream before, unleashing her Evil Qi to the utmost… But it paled in comparison to this.
It was as though Death tapped into every tragedy to occur from the dawn of time. All the tears shed for lost parents, children, friends… spouses.
Something deep within Dyon stirred. His gaze reddened, flooding with an uncontrollable stream of tears.
It was an odd sight to behold. Dyon's face had become emotionless, yet his eyes bawled without pause. The torrent had an outpouring fierce enough to wash part of the blood that had caked to his face over months of battle away.
Dyon brandished his crimson blade.
"… Something about you really pisses me off."
Dyon spoke as though he couldn't feel the tears fall from his cheeks.
He didn't truly understand what was happening. However, there were two individuals he could think of that were worthy of his grief.
There was his loving mother. Her gentle smile, her soft touch, her soothing voice.
There was his loving father. His strong back, his determined gaze, his caring hand.
Maybe these were the sorts of deaths you never got over. Dyon only now realized that he hadn't moved on from the deaths of his parents, but had simply learned to live with them.
But now this arrogant Death bastard stood before him, screaming that shrill, bone rattling scream as though intent on reminding him every moment of pain he had experienced in his lifetime.
Even though Dyon body was still in a sorry state, even though half his organs were still no different from pudding and his bones had too many fractures to count, he was filled with a strength ignited by his fury.
He wanted nothing more than to kill Death.
Dyon's figure flashed forward. In his rage, he led with his foot, planting in firmly between Death's flaming pupils.
He felt for a moment as though he had kicked a solid steel wall, but his persistence was so unending that he forcibly broke through before using Death's head as a springboard to flip backward.
He had every intention of following up with his next attack immediately, but the sight his eyes landed on was simply too abnormal.
Death's back had arched backward such that the top of his head practically touched the ground. Yet, his feet were firmly planted, having not moved even an inch backward.
His bones crackled and flexed as he slowly stood upright, his flaming gaze meeting Dyon's own as though noticing him for the first time.
Death's shrill cry sounded again, its back arching backward once more as though its body was a seesaw. But in the next instant, it used its own body like a bow, tightening and releasing it to lash out with its scythe.
Dyon's intent blazed. He could feel that Death's scythe wasn't just a half-immortal weapon. In fact, it wasn't a normal Venerable treasure either. It was actually a half-step from the Empyrean grade!
How such a low-level world produced such a weapon… Dyon had no idea. But all he could focus on was the whipping shadow that careened toward him, intent to take his life.
Dyon reacted quickly. Since his senses were failing to properly track the scythe, he relied entirely on his instinct as his Perception and Divine Sense slowly became one.
With a duck of his head, he slipped beneath whipping shadow. Countless spinning [Carnage] arrays appeared around him, violently tearing through the air in perfect rhythm with Dyon's actions.
However, Dyon could have never expected that instead of pulling his scythe strike back to prepare to attack again, Death simply used the momentum of his missed strike to turn his body into a bow once more, flexing his opposing arm and sending his chain and horse flying toward Dyon!
No matter how much battle experience Dyon had, he had never seen such an obscene and outright bizarre battle style.
Death's half-dead steed took the brunt force of Dyon's flying red spears. Their homing ability interrupted mid flight.
Death continued to walk forward. It was as though Dyon's attack had woken him up from his half-drunk state.
His movements became more exaggerated, his legs kicking up into the air to perform vertical splits with every step.
It would have been a comical sight had it not been for the ridiculous flexible of Death's body. Every time he kicked upward to move forward, his body bent tightly like a bow. Every time his lifted foot hit the ground once more, he would send another attack flying forward.
At first, it was obvious which – the flying chain horse or scythe – was coming. But after a while, it became completely unpredictable with Death somehow switching his weapon as he pleased.
Dyon initially believed that somehow Death had gained Ax True Weapon Will, allowing him to switch which hand his weapon was wielded in. However, after observing the truth, Dyon almost cough up blood in anger. The answer was simply too ridiculous!
Every time Death took a step forward, his back would arch so much that his head would nearly touch the ground. However, at the same time, he stretched his arms backward as well causing them to meet as though he was clapping his hands behind his head. Taking that opportunity, he would swap his chain and scythe as he pleased, making it almost impossible for Dyon to tell which was coming.
The sight was completely comedic, but it only infuriated Dyon further.
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