"Get back! It's dangerous here!"
"Hurry, get out of here—they're after you!"
...
Seeing Alex walk out on his own, several CIA agents couldn't help but turn and shout at him.
Of course, some agents had already been scared half to death by Azazel and Riptide. They stood trembling, jaws clenched tight in fear, barely able to hold their weapons, let alone worry about Alex.
"Sorry, I'll be borrowing this."
Alex ignored their warnings completely. He reached out and snatched an assault rifle from a nearby agent.
Taking two steps forward, he reached the base of a half-destroyed statue—the one chopped in half earlier. With a light leap, he landed atop the statue.
Gripping the rifle tightly, Alex scanned his surroundings, eyes sharp and ears alert.
Whoosh!
A streak of red light flashed through the crowd—Azazel appeared.
The CIA agents didn't even have time to react. But Alex did.
Bang!
He spun on his heel and fired a shot the instant Azazel appeared.
Whoosh!
Azazel vanished again before the bullet could strike.
He had no choice. Alex's reaction speed was simply too fast—so fast that Azazel barely had time to do anything before a bullet came screaming toward him.
Whoosh!
Bang!
Whoosh!
Bang!
And so began a game of cat and mouse between Azazel and Alex.
Every time Azazel appeared, a bullet would immediately follow, forcing him to teleport again and again.
Provoked to this degree, Azazel's focus quickly shifted. He stopped targeting the CIA agents and began closing in on Alex, teleporting rapidly around him, trying to find an opening.
"Interesting," Riptide muttered from the side, crossing his arms as he watched the show. He had no intention of stepping in.
They were veterans who had fought alongside Sebastian Shaw through countless battles. Ganging up on a rookie? That wasn't their style.
Besides, Riptide knew Azazel's capabilities well. It might look like Azazel was being suppressed for now, but in reality, that kid hadn't posed any real threat. It was only a matter of time before Azazel turned the tables.
"Hmm... never expected to find someone with such potential hiding here."
Just then, a deep voice rang out.
A man in a sleek helmet, exuding authority and confidence, strolled into view—it was Sebastian Shaw.
He had already cleared out the rest of the CIA's defenses elsewhere and now sauntered in casually.
Clatter—clatter!
The remaining CIA agents immediately raised their rifles and trained them on Shaw.
But Shaw didn't even spare them a glance.
To him, they were nothing more than ants.
Riptide finally stopped spectating. With a flick of his wrists, he sent out a spinning whirlwind that howled through the air and swept across the agents like a storm.
Screams and muffled groans echoed throughout the room.
When the wind finally died down, not a single agent was left standing.
At least—unlike Azazel's attacks, which were always fatal—most of them were still alive. Just beaten up and looking absolutely miserable.
High up on the statue, Alex glanced calmly at Shaw, making no move to attack. He knew that any attack on Shaw would only serve to empower him.
A complete waste of effort.
"Shaw! I was just about to finish things here!"
Azazel suddenly reappeared and hurriedly reported to Shaw.
After all, Shaw had sent him and Riptide ahead to clear the path for the main group of mutants. Now that Shaw had arrived and Azazel still hadn't handled a single target, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty.
"No rush," Shaw replied with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. "I'd like to get to know this promising young mutant better."
Still, no matter what Shaw said, Azazel didn't dare slack off.
He began blinking around Alex at even faster intervals, appearing and disappearing at a dizzying pace.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Alex's shots came faster and faster, but he was clearly starting to fall behind. Azazel's flickers were simply too quick now.
To make things worse, his magazine ran dry.
Alex cursed silently and quickly checked his weapon.
"This is it!"
Azazel seized the split-second opening and appeared behind Alex, reaching out to grab him.
If he succeeded, the fight would be over. Azazel could teleport them both into the sky—and drop him from above like he'd done to the CIA agents earlier.
"Watch out!"
Shouts of warning rang out.
Raven, Hank, Siryn, and the others couldn't help but cry out in alarm.
Shhhhk!
But at that exact moment, Alex suddenly reached behind him—like he had eyes in the back of his head—and caught Azazel by the throat.
Before Azazel's hand could even touch him, Alex had already made his move!
Crack!
Without a word, Alex twisted sharply.
Azazel's neck snapped.
His eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't fathom how this young man had done it.
How was he so fast?
Azazel could never have imagined that Alex had been tracking his heartbeat the whole time.
In a battle against someone like Azazel, who could teleport at will, sound was far more reliable than sight.
Every time Azazel moved, Alex could detect it half a second faster than normal people.
That was why he had drawn Azazel in—why he let him get close. Because only in close quarters could Alex guarantee the kill.
From a distance, he'd have to turn, aim, and fire—too slow, too many steps. He'd miss his shot.
But up close?
He'd only need one move.
And that one move had just ended the game.
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