The ground was forcefully struck, creating a deep pit. Ryan kept his word—he said he would leave a complete corpse, and so he did. However, the young woman's petite body had been crushed, her eyes wide open in shock, blood flowing from the corners of her eyes, as if astonished by the man's resolution.
"You think I don't kill women, or that I don't kill familiar faces?" Ryan spat, the idea of showing pity and tenderness was non-existent. Or rather, seeing the Herrscher with the face of Lieutenant Rose made him even more determined to kill.
He glanced down at the body but felt no joy from the victory.
Firstly, the victory was hard-earned; he had pushed both his intellect and strength to the limit just to find the opening. Secondly, killing someone familiar always felt off, even though he knew Lieutenant Rose had already been replaced.
"Lieutenant," Ryan stood stiff for a moment, bending down to wipe her wide-open eyes. "Rest in peace."
He still remembered the few times they met; Lieutenant Rose had been a steadfast warrior, and her excellent skills had caused him much trouble. She had even helped carry his luggage in the far East Branch. They weren't friends, but they knew each other.
"Why was it you that was chosen by the Honkai?"
Ryan took several steps back, sitting on a broken wall, panting. As he stared at the body in the pit, he thought of Himiko, but it was a futile thought. There was no way to erase her just because she might become the Seventh Herrscher—her future had already changed. There was nothing to do but move forward and watch.
Even if she became a Herrscher, it was just another round, and he would have no hesitation.
Power... still far from enough.
He opened his palm and looked at the jewel-like core. As Ryan expected, he saw no strange images this time—somewhat regretful, yet also relieved.
In five minutes, the Herrscher of Ice would arrive. The clock in his mind was ticking forward, and there was no time to recover energy or wait for reinforcements. Facing another Herrscher with a broken body was suicide.
"That's why you're not in a hurry—you thought I was dead for sure. What a pity..." Ryan looked up at the sky; the dark clouds had cleared, and the setting sun painted the sky in red. A gentle breeze blew, making the stubborn weeds sway. He closed his eyes, using his authority to control the energy.
He was lifted into the air, slowly flying up. Ryan felt a strange sensation, as if he had become a fish, freely living in the water.
"I already figured out how to escape." He opened his eyes, a hint of pride showing as he experienced firsthand how unique the Wind Herrscher authority was.
Herrscher powers could make one fly, but they were still bound by the laws of physics. Flight required energy, and even Ryan's magnetic levitation was no exception. But the Wind Herrscher was different.
"Create ideal fluids, just like how an eagle flaps its wings and can glide for great distances with just one exertion of power."
Ryan understood this now, and it was far superior to any bird, because under the influence of authority, the air had no resistance at all. He used just a tiny bit of energy and soared into the sky.
Latinburg was now a ruin, with collapsed buildings and uprooted trees everywhere. From above, it looked like a garbage dump.
In the distance, a white line appeared, and where it passed, hailstones fell from the sky.
The Herrscher of Ice.
Ryan vaguely saw the figure of the gentleman-like person, who also saw him and started accelerating, as if seeking vengeance for his fallen comrade.
"Trying to look tough? Fine, I'll give you a chance." Snap.
He snapped his fingers, and the compressed air exploded, as though someone had shoved him from behind. Then he condensed the energy and slid forward.
The speed wasn't fast, but it consumed almost no energy. Ryan felt like he was ice skating, with no friction or resistance beneath him. After the pressure from behind pushed him, who knew how far he could fly.
"Not following?" He turned around but saw the figure stop. Although it was expected, there was still a tinge of regret.
The Ice Herrscher seemed able to catch up, but Ryan was able to accelerate continually, keeping the chase thrilling. The reason the Herrscher stopped was simple.
Wind authority...
The gentleman-like man hovered in the air, watching the black dot disappear into the distance. Fortunately, Herrschers had no emotions, or he would have been astonished and unable to close his mouth.
His comrade had just died, and his authority had already fallen into someone else's hands, directly used in combat.
It was terrifying—no wonder his value was above that of millions of Britons.
Under the blue gaze, his eyes moved downward to the factory district, where a large pit and his comrade's body lay. She had her eyes closed, and in human terms, it seemed like she was somewhat relieved? His eyebrows raised, the Ice Herrscher turned his gaze to the sky, now clear, and silently turned around.
Herrschers didn't feel sorrow, nor would they be dejected by failure.
"Then struggle all you want, the more desperately you struggle, the more complete the destruction will be!" Ryan slid for over a hundred kilometers before stopping. His energy had partially recovered, and even if the Ice Herrscher stubbornly pursued him, he had the strength to fight.
But he didn't come.
Ryan couldn't see any sign of the enemy, understanding that the current Herrschers were no fools. They knew how to preserve themselves to carry out their missions.
"Now, it depends on the situation in Britain. I hope it's not too late." Ryan slowly lifted his head. With a buzzing hum, a giant flying ship appeared in the sky—the aerial mothership Raven, accompanied by dozens of fighter jets circling around.
The Fire Moth had clearly detected Ryan and was descending slowly. Before the jets could arrive, residual energy surged around him.
In an instant, Ryan landed on the Raven's deck, even faster than the close-in defense cannons could lock on.
The magnetic force firmly held his body in place as he knelt on the ground, raising his head just in time to meet the surprised gaze of the pink-haired girl.
Sakura leaned on her sword on the deck, her hair blowing in the high-altitude wind, looking ready for a battle. But before she could reach the battlefield, she encountered Ryan, which was unexpected.
Ryan slowly got up, smiling faintly as he waved. "I'm back, Sakura."
It was as if an ordinary post-dinner encounter—his indifferent voice slowly calmed the wide-eyed girl, returning to a soft and gentle demeanor.
She didn't cheer or ask questions, only lifting her sword and slowly bowing.
"Welcome back, Ryan."
She hid the curiosity in her eyes and quietly watched the man approach. His scarred muscles, his not-so-tall but imposing frame, filled her with a sense of security, and she stared at him with unblinking purple eyes.
A true executioner doesn't need impassioned speeches, and a true war god doesn't need corpses to prove his honor. The man simply walked silently, and just his presence made Sakura feel an overwhelming sense of safety.
The entire Britain was a chessboard, every step was perfectly calculated. Alone, Ryan had challenged the stronger Wind Herrscher and finished the battle in under an hour.
He said he would win, and he kept his word.
So, how did he win?
Sakura had many questions, but one thing was very clear: in this apocalyptic world, if anyone could save Ling, it would be him.
"Sakura, is something wrong?" Ryan passed by her, asking indifferently.
"No," Sakura lowered her eyelids, appearing unusually calm.
"Then keep up."
"Yes."
With the yellow lights spinning, the lift took the two of them into the Raven's interior. The spacious hangar already had many people standing, looking at the battered Ryan and the maid-like Sakura following him, all wearing the same expression.
They exchanged glances, unsure of whether to be afraid of this humanoid monster or cheer for humanity's victory.
The awkward silence was broken when Calis hurriedly arrived.
"Dr. Ryan, what about the Herrscher?!" All eyes were on him. Ryan scanned the faces of those filled with expectation and confusion, spread his hand, revealing a bluish gem.
No passionate battle cries—he simply replied,
"In my hand."