Chapter Sixty-Five: Transforming into the Primal Form, Slaying the Giant Insect in an Instant

“He’s not dead yet, Admiral Brighton.”

The officer beside Brighton spoke with a look of terror.

“How is that possible? How could anyone survive being struck by such a molten beam?”

Brighton lifted his head, his face filled with shock.

Under everyone’s gaze, the figure clad in golden armor erupted in a dazzling violet light, and behind him appeared a shadow a hundred meters tall.

“Who in the world is that?”

“Has a god of this world descended?”

Those on the other warships, unfamiliar with Harvey, had no idea who this figure was, the one battling the apocalyptic behemoth. Yet the power displayed by this golden-armored, gold-masked figure had already surpassed all their comprehension. Some bounty hunters even believed a deity of this world had revealed itself.

In the long histories of every planet, there were always legends of gods, beings who displayed unfathomable might. Now, this figure in golden armor seemed to embody their idea of divine power.

As Harvey gazed at the colossal beast—one that had endured his Taste of Fear, his Void Assault, and even his most furious leaps, emerging injured but not dead—he realized that he could indeed slay the lava behemoth, but it would take more time. The beast, soaking in molten rock, was surging with life energy, swiftly healing its wounds, clearly possessed of formidable regenerative powers.

The longer this battle dragged on, the more destruction it would wreak. Soon, this would no longer be a mission, but a complete razing of the planet itself.

Thus, Harvey decided to end it quickly. He held nothing back, transforming directly into the Void Reaver—Kha’Zix.

With a sharp crack, the golden armor shattered from his body.

At the moment of transformation, a voice echoed in Harvey’s mind—lonely, yet brimming with arrogance.

“I sense prey worthy of the hunt.”

With the emergence of the shadow, even at such a distance, every soldier on the warships felt an inexplicable chill in their hearts, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

A dreadful sense of crisis swept over everyone, soldiers and bounty hunters alike. It was as if nowhere in this world was safe; death could descend at any moment.

Many, whether soldier or hunter, succumbed to this terror and fainted outright. Only one—an old soldier, his mind steeled by countless bloody battles—remained conscious. And even Brighton, whose will was formidable, now stood deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat.

He watched as Kassadin transformed into a towering shadow a hundred meters high, but could not see the full picture—only a single, violet-glowing, razor-sharp blade.

Then, in an instant, that shadow vanished without a trace, as if melting into the very fabric of space.

That disappearance made Brighton stagger forward, barely catching himself on the table before collapsing entirely. His breath came in ragged gasps, heart pounding, struggling against the overwhelming sense of helplessness and despair, as though death itself was reaching for him.

Others could not make out what had happened, but the apocalyptic behemoth saw it all too clearly.

That monstrous figure, a hundred meters tall, with violet skin and muscles sculpted in fluid, powerful lines, watched as the blade gleamed and vanished into the air.

Though his adversary had disappeared, the behemoth felt as if the world itself had cast it aside, leaving it the lone lamb awaiting slaughter—death could strike at any moment.

This formless menace, this looming death, awakened a fear it had never known before. Its only thought now was to flee—anywhere, as long as it could escape this terror.

The behemoth moved to burrow into the earth, yearning for the comfort and safety of the molten depths.

But the moment it moved, before it could even reach downward, a pair of violet, icy claws erupted silently from the void, piercing its body.

Against the Void Blade, its defenses had only been breached; against repeated blows of Taste of Fear, it had suffered little more than wounds. But now, the indomitable scales that had withstood so much seemed to dissolve like foam, pierced through without resistance.

The behemoth, still lunging downward, froze in mid-motion. Its colossal body, a kilometer long, was sliced into thirty-two segments, blood spraying forth like rivers, drenching the land in a rain of crimson.

Brighton, witnessing this scene, could hardly breathe for the terror.

Before the massive corpse could even tumble into the pit below, it remained suspended in the air.

The figure in golden armor stood midair as well.

When Brighton saw Kassadin’s form reappear, he snapped back to his senses, gasping for breath, an impossible thought flashing through his mind:

“Is the apocalypse beast… dead?”

He recalled the behemoth’s growth to over a kilometer in size.

He had thought that only the orbital cannon could pose any threat to such a creature, and even that was uncertain.

Yet it had, impossibly, been slain. But was Kassadin truly human, he wondered? He hadn’t seen clearly, but he had seen Kassadin transform into a vast, shadowy monster—more beast than man.

No matter how astounded he was, when Brighton saw Kassadin carrying the corpse of the beast and stepping into a violet void portal, a voice rang out beyond the warship:

“I’ve killed the broodmother. Get my hundred million ready.”

Brighton hurriedly checked the instruments and saw Kassadin standing in the sky outside the ship.

“Shall we pay you in cash or transfer…?” Brighton’s voice trembled as he addressed Kassadin.

Bounty hunters always had linked accounts; if a mission was completed, the reward could be paid directly. However, some hunters—those wanted by one of the great empires—accepted only cash, never transfers.

“A transfer is fine,” came the reply.

“Don’t be afraid. As long as you keep your word, I won’t harm you, nor will I kill you. In fact, if you wish to hire me again in the future, as long as your payment is satisfactory, I will help you once more.”

Harvey, hearing Brighton’s fearful tone, replied calmly.

The broodmother’s defenses had been formidable. Were it not for his desire for a swift victory, he could have ended the fight in a few more minutes. But had it dragged on, even if he killed her, the battle’s aftermath would have triggered volcanic eruptions across this region.

He needed these people alive; someday, they might become followers of the Void. He certainly did not wish to see the planet destroyed.

Moreover, one must control the collateral damage of a mission. If every completed task left too much destruction, no matter how powerful your reputation, no one would want to hire you again.

In truth, had Harvey not misjudged the broodmother’s defenses, had he gone all out from the start, she would never have reached the surface—she would have died deep underground instead. In that case, Brighton would not have been so terrified.