Instead, he resembled an unsheathed sword, bristling with killing intention.
Casio's upper body clothes were already torn and ragged, revealing a perfectly splendid physique, with muscles that grew streamline, their bulges and fissures complementing each other. There was an indescribable sense of strength and harmony. Paired with his rock-white skin, he looked like a sculpture crafted by a master artist.
An artwork that exuded both strength and beauty.
Countless eyes were drawn to him, filled with shock, envy, or fervor. Among these were some twisted, malformed affections.
They eerily resembled the gazes of the men under Casio's command.
Casio slowly turned his head, sweeping his gaze over the various Secret Martial Arts Worlds present at the International Exchange Meeting. Instantly, people bowed their heads, not daring to meet his eyes. Even those of the Fighter level felt an intense pressure on their foreheads.
