Hooo—
In that instant, Helen felt the creeping, pitch-black cold radiating from Caesar's body sliding into her fingertips like a living shadow, a chill that slithered beneath her skin and tried to claim her nerves one by one.
His death law percentage already shot above 15%, his aura was like the grim reaper of ancient history.
"Ah!!"
A sharp, foreign sting shot through her chest, and then—BAM!—she instinctively hurled him backward with every ounce of strength she had.
Crack His body crashed into the large table behind him, reducing it to shattered wood and twisted metal in an instant.
"Pff—!!"
Caesar spat a thick splash of blood, the crimson scattering across the floor.
That shove hadn't been merely physical; Helen had infused her strike with enough power to rattle his organs, to twist and bruise everything inside him.
Yet he barely seemed bothered.
Slowly—painfully—he rose to his feet, wiping the blood at the corner of his lips with the back of his hand.
