Rowan knew he could give more, and he let everything loose, and he opened the floodgates.

Rowan's blood was currently a whitish-gold color and contained an incomparable amount of vitality.

If not for the burden of carrying Soul Seizer and having died true deaths multiple times. He should be able to easily live for thousands of years.

He had a sneaking suspicion that even if his soul were to die at this moment, his body would still live on as a Divine Artifact, powerful and indestructible.

It gave him an odd sense of solace. His body would walk this land far after his death. A silent slap to his enemies. Although he would prefer to be alive, and with every moment his chances increased.

Every drop of Rowan's blood was equivalent to the amount of blood in a thousand men, perhaps he was underestimating this number. Every drop. Incomparable precious.

His blood boiled, and they released a pale mist of dense vitality. His twin hearts began to beat faster, and Essence flowed from him in a rush. Rowan discovered another use of his shell, which was accelerating the transfer of energy.

It multiplied the speed of which Rowan used to transfer his Essence to the Axe, and the weapon began to shiver and the hum emanating from it increased, almost like a prehistoric battle machine emerging from slumber.

Rowan doubted this weapon had ever tasted Essence such as his own. He had no way to measure his vitality with anyone else, but he doubted he had any to compare in this world.

At the spot, Rowan gripped the Axe, and a pale vein of gold began to snake up the shaft. And the shaft of the Axe was slowly turning a pale shade of gold. Three more phantasmal images appeared, and these were golden, like the first ray of a rising sun.

The reason Rowan stopped at three was not because his physique could not sustain more of the images, but because this was the limit his spirit could handle. Anymore and he could hurt his allies.

He felt a link to each of the floating phantasms, and he knew he could control each of the deadly Axe phantasms but in a rudimentary manner.

For better control, Rowan felt it would have been better to only unleash one Phantasm. What I need here is no control, Rowan thought, but sheer destructive power.

Rowan remembered the look in the eyes of the dying man, and he wanted to send him off with glory. It was a consolation of a sort. He wished his help could extend beyond bringing death to their foes. But for the moment, this was all he could do.

For a moment, he wondered if his blood could heal the wounded, but he doubted it, even the blood of lesser Dominators was a dreadful poison to a mortal, but still, if he had time to breathe, he intended to check the healing capabilities of his blood on others.

The night had turned to day under the illumination of the Seven massive phantasmal images of the Axe, and everyone was silent, their eyes falling to Rowan and then driven back up to the skies.

Captain Titus and the remaining Guardsmen removed their faceplates, eyes fixed on Rowan, for there was something unnaturally magnetic about his presence.

Rowan looked at Glenn and said, "Witness warrior… The glory of your bloodline." he gestured above with his left hand, and the phantasmal image shone brightly before they disappeared into the mist, leaving trails of phantasmal light.

Faster than what would be deemed possible, Rowan released another wave of attack and immediately following that he released another, his spirit was beginning to scream in exhaustion, but he scrapped at the bottom of the barrel and released a single bright golden phantom.

They all disappeared into the fog. His Agility that had broken past the Rift state had allowed the world to slow down in his perception, and he was able to rapidly release those onslaughts.

And for a moment, all was silent.

With a great roar, Rowan struck the hilt to the ground.

There was a slight boom that was felt rather than heard. Several bright lights flashed ahead of them, and the ground rumbled.

There was an intense whooshing sound, as the winds screamed past and leveled the fog until as far as the eyes could see, even the clouds above parted and were swept aside.

Except for him and Maeve, who crouched to withstand the hurricane-force winds, the rest of the people were blown off their feet, and they cried out in astonishment and fear

The surroundings were devastated, and the fading howls of Abominations reverberated in the distance. Chunks of Abominations fell like rain, and the bodies of seven Giants slowly unraveled into pieces.

There was silence. Before the loud cheer of the dusty people resounded, the winds carried a healthy amount of dust and smoke. There were weeping and hugs, and even the Stoic guardsmen pulled off their helmets and laughed along.

Rowan wished he could pull off the shell on his face, so he could laugh along with them, so they could see the joy in his eyes.

Rowan's eyes set on Glenn. He was wide-eyed and a grin decorated his mouth. His hands were clenched. But he was already dead. His open eyes seem to never want to close.

This was a power he was sure at the Rift State. The great divide between Dominators. Thanks to this weapon, he could finally unleash power at this level.

Rowan felt a rush of heat, as countless souls were funneled into his body, he shuddered as his consciousness traced the growing soul points, as it broke past three hundred soul points and kept rising.

Yet, this victory left a stale taste in his mouth. His delight for his growing soul points tempered by the fact that some of the Abominations he killed had been transformed from his people.

Although he knew they were no longer his people after they turned, not all truths were easy to accept, he imagined in all the Abominations he had killed, that there as traces of the people that he once knew.

Maeve was the only one not celebrating, her eyes were fixed on him, showing concern, he ignored her caring gaze and to distract himself from his grim thoughts, Rowan analyzed his surroundings, especially the route that the Abominations were escaping towards.

The explosion had cleared the fog and Rowan could see quite far. It had leveled a greater part of the town and had blown out any fires.

Perhaps if he had looked a little later he would have missed it.

The Abominations were heading towards the Sylvan lakes. This part of the town was in an elevated position where an observer could easily peruse the beautiful lakes.

Hundreds of Abominations jumped into the river, and dozens of giants followed. At the center of the lake, he saw a woman.

It was only her head that floated above the lake. She appeared to be smiling. But her eyes were yellow and diseased and held no amusement only madness, her pupils were horizontal as a goat's.

Rowan watched as she opened her mouth and a giant crawled inside, she slowly chewed, yellow fluids spilling from her mouth. Her eyes fixed on him, and he heard a whisper in his ears. As she sank below the water.

"Well played, my child!"