Within the stretched-out expanse of time...
The entire world in Owen's eyes turned into a slow-motion scene so sluggish it was suffocating. Dust motes floating in the air hung suspended like stars in the cosmos. Beads of sweat flying from the distorted faces of his enemies drifted weightlessly, and the shouts of chaotic war cries were warped into low, unintelligible groans.
Amidst the storm of killing intent and the wave of humanity crashing in like a tsunami, Owen remained the sole center of tranquility...
He didn't move to dodge the sharp weapons about to strike his body... didn't raise his arms to guard... and showed no sign of panic at the danger that was merely an arm's reach away.
His breath was inhaled deeply and released softly. Every part of his body relaxed to the absolute limit. His glowing golden eyes gazed at the creatures before him with a look that had changed.
It was not the look of a warrior... but the eyes of a "Saint."
Amidst the forest of knives and gun muzzles, Owen slowly drew both hands up from his sides... smooth... soft... and beautiful like a lotus flower blooming. His palms moved toward each other at the center of his chest, before coming together perfectly.
Clap...
Ten fingers aligned, fingertips pointing up to the sky in a "Prayer" pose.
The image of a young man standing perfectly still and calm, surrounded by dozens of thugs raising weapons to kill him, was a stark contrast, so surreal it looked like a religious painting pasted into the middle of a mafia war movie scene.
Inside Owen's mind, it wasn't empty as many might think. It was filled with "Will" according to the new philosophy he had just formed.
'Don't worry... all you dregs of humanity... who are mired in desire, struggling in greed, and driving your lives with vice... Living on in this state will only create more bad karma for nothing.'
'As a well-wisher... I will help relieve you myself. Escape this rotten cycle of existence, and go start over in the next life!!'
Suddenly! Owen's will of "Long-term Mercy" was ignited!
Within a mere 0.1 seconds of real-time... Owen's [Insight Field] sent a massive amount of situational data into his brain. He was thus able to process and filter out the 9 "highest threats" from the mob of enemies with pinpoint accuracy.
Targets 1-3: The 3 closest close-combat Awakened... A man with a giant axe raised overhead, a man thrusting a long sword, and a man with dual daggers rushing low along the ground to ambush from behind.
Targets 4-6: The 3 shotgunners standing in a line 5 meters away. This was the kill zone where buckshot would tear a victim's body apart most effectively.
Targets 7-9: The 3 pistol gunmen hiding behind their teammates. Their muzzles were aimed precisely at his chest and thighs.
'It's a pity I can only attack a maximum of nine targets due to the limitations of [Avatar of Asura]...' Owen could only complain internally about his own limits.
And when the 0.1st second of target identification ended, the 0.2nd second began ticking... It was the moment of Asura's descent.
A massive amount of mana inside Owen's body erupted violently! Of course, it didn't explode outward without direction. Owen controlled and compressed it with high-level concentration to activate the skill [Avatar of Asura].
Vwoom! Vwoom! Vwoom!
The air around Owen began to distort with the overflowing mana power... Crimson mana took shape in mid-air rapidly. Before the 9 targets, "Translucent Red Energy Palms," more than half a meter large, appeared as if popping out of the void.
[ Nine Asura Palms ]
They looked mysterious and formidable, like the palms of the Demon God Asura reaching out from another dimension to punish sinners.
Although the creation of these 9 palms seemed like it should take time, in reality, Owen used only 0.4 seconds! (Seconds 0.2-0.5). That demonstrated many things, from rapid processing, delicate control, to the time stretched out within his thoughts. If any one of these were missing, such rapid creation would never have happened.
And when the 0.6th second began... the cleansing of the 9 dregs of humanity commenced!
Without the enemies having a chance to perceive the death standing right in front of them, their eyes still shone with the look of predators confident in victory. Their hands were still swinging weapons forward, fingers still trying to move to pull triggers, feet still stepping without fear, unaware that... their final moment had arrived!
'Accept this mercy of mine!' Owen's twisted will of mercy exploded to its limit.
Without hesitation... all 9 red energy palms shot forward to slam into their targets simultaneously at the speed of sound!
BOOM!
Each palm attacked in a different pattern, according to the angle and direction that gave the highest advantage. Whether it was a slap to the face until it twisted, a smash to the center of the chest until ribs collapsed, an uppercut to the chin sending them flying, or even a chop down on the crown of the head, cracking the skull ruthlessly!
The attack occurred and concluded within a mere 0.5 seconds (Seconds 0.6-1.0).
And when time in the real world returned to normal flow, when the second hand had just ticked forward once, Owen's instant mind state ended, fitting the concept of the skill [Instant-Mind Palm: Mercy of the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva] perfectly, without missing or exceeding even a fraction of a second.
BOOOOM!!! Smack!!! Crash!!!
The sound of the explosive impact rang out thunderously, like lightning striking the middle of the circle! A violent shockwave blasted dust outward in a wide radius.
"Arrrghhhhh!!!"
The thugs' shouting of "Kill him" was replaced by screams, the sound of breaking bones, and the horrifying sound of flesh being blown away.
The image that appeared before the eyes of Jagger and the remaining subordinates was a nightmare they had never imagined...
The bodies of the 9 elite subordinates were slapped by the mysterious palms until they were "blown" flying backward like kites with cut strings! The impact force was massive, as if they had been hit head-on by a ten-wheel truck.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Crash! Crash! Crash!
The body of the giant axe-wielder flew to smash against the warehouse wall until the concrete caved in deep! The sound of bones snapping was horrifying! The three shotgunners were hit in the chest until their ribs collapsed; they coughed up mouthfuls of blood in mid-air before flying over their teammates' heads to crash onto the ground ten meters away. As for the pistol gunmen... their bodies spun in the air like tops, weapons flying out of their hands in different directions.
Dust and smoke inside the abandoned warehouse billowed thickly, followed by the scent of blood starting to waft and the smell of burning crimson mana still lingering in the air... Groans of pain echoed throughout the area that had just been filled with war cries.
Skrrrt…
Seeing this event... the other 11 subordinates who were rushing in stopped in their tracks simultaneously... Combat boots scuffed against the ground with a screech... They stood frozen stiff, jaws dropped, eyes wide almost popping out of their sockets, staring at their teammates lying motionless or twitching on the ground in utter confusion.
"W... What happened...?" one of them mumbled with a trembling voice, the hand holding the baseball bat shaking.
Everyone's gaze... including Jagger, whose ruthless smile was now frozen on his face, slowly moved back to look at the center of the event, revealing the figure of the young man in ordinary casual clothes still standing in the same spot... His feet hadn't moved even a single millimeter from their original position.
And most chillingly... he was still staring at them emotionlessly with eyes filled with mercy... in a "Prayer" pose, praying peacefully... as if the violent story just now had nothing to do with him at all.
Owen's abyssal golden eyes swept over his 9 works of "soul sending" before shifting to meet Jagger, who stood frozen some distance away. Its ruthless smile twitched. The instinct inside it was screaming that 'The thing in front isn't prey, but a Grim Reaper.'
Silence covered the battlefield again... but this time, it wasn't the silence before a storm. It was the silence of true "Fear"!
…..
Amidst the fading smoke and the echoing groans, Jagger stood stunned as if cursed. Beads of sweat seeped out along his hairline without him realizing. His eyes widened, staring at Owen, alternating with the bodies of his nine subordinates scattered on the ground. He was filled with mixed feelings of shock and confusion.
'What the hell happened...?' This question circled in his head repeatedly. 'The intel said he was just a bottom-tier B-Rank who was only somewhat good at martial arts, right? Then what is this mass attack speed that I couldn't even follow?!'
The attack speed just now was at an unbelievable level... Even he, a B-Rank Awakened confident in his own reaction time, saw only a flickering red shadow for a split second. As for those lower than him, there was no need to mention... they probably didn't even realize what hit them.
Jagger gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the panic, and quickly swept his eyes to survey the damage in detail to assess the situation.
The 6 normal human subordinates (gunmen) were out cold. Some were unconscious, some lay groaning in pain from the impact.
However... when his eyes shifted to the group of three C-Rank physical Awakened the axe, sword, and dual-knife wielders he noticed something that made the fear in his heart begin to subside.
"Ugh... Cough, cough!" A coughing sound rang out.
His three C-Rank Awakened comrades were scrambling up from the pile of rubble in a ragged state. Fresh blood flowed from the corners of their mouths and noses, indicating internal bruising. Nevertheless... their overall physical condition wasn't critically injured, as their legs could still stand up.
Seeing that image, Jagger let out a huge sigh. Relief spread throughout his body.
'The destructive power isn't as high as I thought...' He re-evaluated the situation rapidly.
'That attack focused on Speed and Push force rather than destruction or killing... If even the C-Ranks with mid-level durability can get up, then I, a B-Rank Tank type, can handle it easily. At the very least, I can take that kind of attack ten times without falling.'
Confidence began to return to Jagger's face again. Once the fear of destructive power was gone, his brain immediately began calculating the next risk. His suspicion still hadn't faded.
'The problem is... how many times can he use that move?'
If Owen could spam that skill repeatedly without cooldown, his remaining normal subordinates would be wiped out in a blink, and the situation would turn until he was in trouble. But if it was a skill that consumed a lot of mana or had a long cooldown... victory was still in his grasp as before.
'Better not risk it...' Jagger decided firmly. He didn't want to throw his subordinates' lives away unnecessarily, and didn't want to risk himself gambling against a skill with unclear data.
He decided to toss the "mobbing" plan aside and turned his eyes to the cargo crane... where the "Trump Card" was still dangling, to close the game once and for all!
Clap... Clap... Clap...
The sound of applause broke the awkward silence. Jagger smirked broadly to cover up his earlier wavering. He chuckled softly in his throat and stepped out through the circle of subordinates to face Owen with a relaxed demeanor, to restore his men's morale.
"Heh heh heh... Excellent... Truly excellent that you could hide your fangs and claws from Mr. Victor's intelligence unit this well," Jagger praised with a voice coated in poison, staring intently at Owen.
"I admit you surprised me a little... but that's all there is to it." He shrugged nonchalantly before pointing his thumb back toward the cargo crane behind him... where the body of 'Finley' in a cardigan and tight shorts was still hanging in mid-air.
"Because the real trump card... is still in my hand."
Jagger's smile twisted until it looked disgusting as he began to exert dominance.
"Kneel down!" He shouted loudly. "And press your forehead to the ground to apologize to me right now!"
Owen: "…"
Seeing Owen remain still, Jagger increased the pressure with the most disgusting threat.
"If you're still stubborn... I guarantee you'll see a good show. I have a few subordinates who particularly like 'strange things' and 'beautiful things'... whether it's a woman or a pretty-faced man." He turned to nod at two chubby subordinates holding knives, standing guard near Finley's bound body. They licked their lips and looked at Finley's body with lustful eyes.
"Just imagine, Owen..." Jagger continued to pressure and provoke. "Your cross-dressing little prince getting gang-raped in the middle of an open field right before your eyes, while you can't do anything... His screams would probably be heart-wrenchingly sweet, don't you think?"
Laughter from the subordinates erupted in support of the boss's threat.
"Oh! And don't even think about using that crazy shockwave move again..." Jagger narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice to threaten. "Because my best 'Sniper' has his sights aimed at the hostage's skull at all times."
He pointed his finger up to the high steel beam in the shadows. Even though the person couldn't be seen, the pressure was real.
"You might be fast, Owen. I admit that. But ask yourself... can a hostage who is a sitting duck, tied up and hanging like that, dodge a sniper bullet?"
Jagger spread his arms wide, offering the final proposal like a winner.
"Choose! Will you resist and watch your lover be raped and tortured, or accept your fate willingly! I promise not to kill you... just break a few arms and legs, and have a little fun with your woman named Jessica... just to teach you a lesson that... daring to mess with Mr. Victor's business has consequences!"
Upon the decree, the surrounding atmosphere fell into a tension so tight it almost snapped. Every eye was fixed on Owen, waiting to see the reaction of the underdog.
However...
What appeared on Owen's face was not rage, not fear, or despair as they had hoped.
Owen stood still, his golden eyes sweeping over Jagger, alternating with the sniper's hiding spot and the spots where other subordinates stood, scrutinizing as if processing some data...
And just a few seconds later...
The corners of Owen's mouth slowly lifted... He smiled broadly until it became a grin that looked mocking and filled with unconcealed amusement. It was the smile of someone watching a comedy show... not the smile of someone about to have their limbs broken.
"Hey..." one subordinate nudged a friend. "Is he crazy? What the hell is he smiling for?"
"Must have lost his mind..."
Even Jagger had to knit his brows into a knot. Suspicion began to form in his heart again.
'Is there a counter-plan? Or has he really just lost his mind?'
But before Jagger could catch on or become more suspicious, Owen's next action brought those thoughts to a halt.
Owen's tall figure began to move... He slowly lowered himself down.
Thud...
His right knee touched the dusty ground, followed by the left... Both hands were placed flat on his thighs humbly. The head that was once held high slowly lowered toward the ground in a posture of submission according to Jagger's command.
The image of Owen kneeling was like divine nectar soothing Jagger's heart, washing away all anxiety in a blink. That relief transformed into satisfaction, then exploded into ultimate arrogance!
"Hahahaha!!"
Jagger threw his head back and laughed loudly, echoing through the warehouse. He spread his arms like a victor.
"Finally know your place, you piece of trash! Thought you were so tough, but turns out this is all you got!"
"Whoa!! Boss is awesome!"
"Serves him right! Hahaha!"
"Completely broken, arrogant bastard!"
The subordinates cheered in delight, shouting insults to rub it in. The atmosphere of fear from a moment ago vanished completely, leaving only the high spirits of a group confident that they held "victory" in their hands.
But before Owen's head could lower all the way to the dusty ground below... unnoticed by anyone... beneath the dark shadows of the warehouse... dozens of pairs of tiny eyes were glowing...
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