Chapter 37: The Workshop Reality Check
The Blackwood soldiers stood in the center of the workshop, their arms crossed and sneers plastered across their faces. There were plenty of them, but not an ounce of respect among the group. To them, Asher Grey was still just the trash of the district. Beating Garret? A fluke. An accident.
To make matters worse, Asher had just handed two of them strange, blocky devices with metal prongs. Tasers. Of course, the soldiers had no idea what they were holding.
"You think you can order us around?" one of the soldiers scoffed, tossing the taser lightly in his hand. "You and the big guy got lucky with Garret. If it came down to a real fight, we'd snap you both in half."
Asher just smiled, a cold, empty expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Is that right? Then let's test that theory. Fight us."
The soldier holding the taser didn't hesitate. With a feral grin, he lunged straight for Lucas, aiming to jam the metal prongs right into his chest while triggering the device.
BZZZZT!
Blue sparks arched violently. The soldiers smirked, waiting for Lucas to collapse.
But Lucas didn't even blink. He just stood there, completely unfazed. Beneath his shirt, carefully positioned exactly where Asher had instructed him to put it, was a thick, flat block of solid wood. The electricity dispersed uselessly against the insulator.
The soldier's smirk vanished, replaced by sheer panic. "What the—"
Before the man could pull back, Lucas's hand clamped down on his wrist with a vice-like grip. With a swift, brutal jerk, Lucas twisted. A sickening pop echoed through the workshop, followed immediately by a blood-curdling scream as the soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his mangled arm.
The room froze.
The room froze.
Then, the ranks parted. A hulking, muscular soldier stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of a heavy broadsword. He glared at Asher, his ego blinding his common sense.
"So, you're the one who beat Garret, huh?" the giant spat, drawing his blade. "Now you fight me, Asher. Let's see what you can really do!"
With a furious roar, the muscular man swung his sword in a deadly arc, aiming right for Asher's neck.
Asher didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even step back. He simply raised his bare hand and flicked his wrist against the flat side of the blade. The sheer, terrifying force behind the casual movement sent the heavy sword vibrating violently out of the man's grip, clattering uselessly to the stone floor.
Before the massive soldier could even register that he had been disarmed, Asher's hand shot forward and clamped over his face.
Asher's fingers dug like iron vices into the man's cheekbones and jaw. He squeezed.
Muffled, agonizing screams tore from the soldier's throat. His giant hands clawed frantically at Asher's wrist, but it was like trying to move a steel beam. The pressure was building. Bone began to creak under Asher's grip. The dark, ruthless instinct inside him surged, and he was a split second away from crushing the man's skull completely.
"Asher!"
Lucas's voice cut through the workshop, instantly breaking the tension. His heavy hand clamped onto Asher's shoulder. "We don't kill, Asher. Don't you remember?"
Asher blinked, the cold void in his eyes slowly fading as he looked at the terrified, squirming man in his grip. He let out a sharp sigh and released his hand. The massive soldier collapsed to the floor, gasping for air and scrambling backward in absolute terror.
"I know, I know," Asher muttered, rolling his shoulders to shake off the adrenaline. "It's just... whatever."
He turned his gaze back to the rest of the Blackwood soldiers. The arrogance was completely gone. In its place was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear.
Asher stepped forward, his voice completely level. "Is there anyone else who wants to fight?"
Silence. Absolute, pin-drop silence filled the workshop. No one dared to even breathe too heavily.