(Power is the first thing humans think of when it comes to making an exchange.)
And so, for every gold coin, they received an arrow in return.
"Die!"
Lloyd roared as he grabbed Phelion by the neck and slammed him violently into the stone pavement.
The stone ground shattered. The entire area within twenty meters was destroyed in a single blow, forming a deep crater—yet Lloyd did not stop.
He grabbed Phelion by the hip bones, lifting him with one hand. Blood gushed out, splashing across Lloyd's face as his grip tightened brutally.
BANG!
Phelion's face was smashed into the ground again and again. Each impact was like a furious bolt of lightning striking the earth, driving the crater deeper and wider with every hit.
BANG!BOOM!
Grabbing Phelion's head—his body bleeding uncontrollably, bound tightly by thinning threads formed from a spear embedded in his flesh—Lloyd squeezed his cheeks hard. Dozens of blood-soaked teeth flew out.
He tensed his arms, veins bulging across his limbs. His fingers had long since pierced through Phelion's skin and were now visible inside his mouth.
BOOM!!!
Without hesitation, Lloyd hurled Phelion far away toward a cluster of buildings.
CRASH!BOOM!
Phelion shot through multiple buildings like a human projectile, each impact leaving behind massive, horrific holes.
Yet despite the overwhelming destruction, no one around paid it any attention. The people remained indifferent and motionless—even as some died—as if hypnotized.
Phelion desperately tried to grab onto something, but he couldn't. The cage formed by red threads had completely immobilized his arms.
When he forced his eyes open, the only thing he could see was a vivid crimson mixed with dark red, obscuring everything.
But soon, a white figure appeared—a being cloaked in filthy white, raising one leg high while hovering in midair, just like him.
Execution Kick.
BANG!!
Phelion was kicked straight down, smashing through multiple floors of the building and destroying them in the process.
Dust and smoke billowed out chaotically, accompanied by countless crashing sounds—a symphony of destruction. The shockwaves and tremors shattered every pane of glass nearby, leaving buildings slowly collapsing.
(Why power? Because humans wish to hunt, to conquer the greatest beasts of all.)
Vũ Diệm Xuân!
Petals bloomed around Lloyd—like bundles of pitch-black roses tinged with flame—falling into the crater he had created, drifting down like spring peach blossoms.
"Shatter!"
The petals rapidly gathered, forming a spiraling storm of flowers.
In the deep darkness that seemed to stare back at those who gazed into it, Phelion coughed up blood as he struggled to stand. But the red threads had already bound his legs.
He looked upward. His pupils shrank as a blinding golden light enveloped him.
The entire building exploded. Roses and smoke surged upward like blooming peach branches heralding spring.
(Why do they hunt beasts and fight each other? Obviously, it is the thirst for conquest—the desire to be looked up to. The scent of blood, the smell of mad exhilaration, the selfish urge to destroy and dominate all things—only these define their sense of self.)
Phelion stood up. It seemed the flames had burned away most of the red threads binding him.
But could he even be called alive?
His skin was burned away in patches, reeking of char. His skull was exposed beneath scorched flesh and dried blood. His arms were like those of a cripple—no, far more grotesque than that.
His lower body had long surpassed the boundaries of humanity. Could those two legs still even be called human?
"Who gave you permission to stand?"
BANG!!
Phelion's face was smashed violently into the ground, Lloyd's massive hand pressing down on his head.
BANGBANGBANG
A relentless barrage followed—kicks, punches, bone-breaking blows, strikes piercing straight through his body.
Yet despite all of this, the furious contortion on Lloyd's face did not ease in the slightest.
Because—
(Deep rivers run silent, for they hold too much within. What is that silence? Human wisdom—or human foolishness?)
"…Stillness."
Like a miracle, despite his throat being torn open, Phelion uttered a single word—a word that embodied his mana.
Stillness.