"Attack!!!!!!!!!!!" the leader screamed. In an instant, eight assassins surged forward, their movements synchronized and fierce. However, just as they reached him, they abruptly halted, their bodies collapsing to the ground lifelessly.
Carl straightened his neck, his aura radiating outward like a palpable force. His eyes glowed with an intensity reminiscent of a wild beast hunting its prey under the cover of night. The red hue of his eyes pierced through the darkness, instilling a paralyzing fear in the remaining assassins, who found themselves unable to move a muscle.
As if drawn by an unseen force, the weapons of the fallen men began to rise slowly from the ground, hovering ominously in mid-air. The blades floated around Carl, their outlines barely visible against the shadows that enveloped them. With a single step forward, Carl unleashed his fury; in that instant, the knives shot through the air, piercing the remaining assassins with deadly precision.
One step after another, Carl advanced toward the hall, each movement deliberate and powerful. With every step he took, the daggers surrounding him began to glow faintly at first, their light intensifying in tandem with his growing rage. The anger within him surged like a tempestuous sea of flames, consuming all rational thought and replacing it with an overwhelming desire for vengeance. The blades in the air seemed to feed off that anger, their glow brightening as if they were alive and responding to their master's fury.
Carl found it increasingly difficult to contain his wrath; it coursed through him like wildfire, threatening to engulf everything in its path. Memories of betrayal and loss fueled his determination, each recollection igniting a new spark of fury within him. As he approached the hall's entrance, he could hear the whispers of fear from those who had dared to challenge him.
The assassins' faces reflected sheer terror as they realized they had underestimated him. Carl was no ordinary opponent; he was a force of nature—a storm ready to unleash its full might upon anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. With every heartbeat, he felt more powerful, more alive, as if the very essence of battle coursed through his veins.
In that moment, he embraced his anger fully, allowing it to transform him into something greater than himself—a harbinger of retribution. The hall loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but Carl welcomed it as a stage for his wrath. He would not just fight; he would make them remember why they had feared the Lazy General.
With one final surge of energy, Carl stepped into the hall, ready to unleash chaos upon those who dared to oppose him. The air crackled with tension as he prepared to show them that true power lies not only in strength but also in the fury that fuels it.
He knew by instinct and by his earlier deductions what was going on. He felt really mad with anger. "What had he done wrong to merit this," he thought? "Why this betrayal? Why kill Hope, who killed her, who gave the order?" These were the thoughts in his subconsciousness. But he was clear on one thing. He must kill them all. Kill every last one of them.
With anger still raging within him, he entered the hall. The sight was one that he would never forget. His men were massacred as if they were poultry. There was blood everywhere, the shock written on some of the faces made it clear that they were not expecting what they got. The bloodied walls and floor was nauseating, those that died from the poison were still being slaughtered alongside those who were still battling the poison. All eyes were fixed on Carl as they did not expect to see him there and alive.
" How is he still alive?" a man asked.
" But I saw almost 20 men go to finish him off, what happened to them?" Another man asked.
A soldier stood triumphantly, holding the severed head of Spark, the second-in-command of the Blistrix, high above his head. The gruesome trophy was a testament to the fierce battle that had just unfolded, a stark reminder of the violent world they inhabited. Spark had been a formidable figure within the ranks, known for his cunning and resourcefulness. As lazy as Carl was, it was Spark who had taken charge of the day-to-day operations of the Blistrix, managing everything from logistics to strategy. This allowed Carl to indulge in his penchant for idleness, often lounging around while others toiled away.
The soldier's grip tightened around Spark's head, revealing the injuries that marred his once-proud visage. Deep gashes and bruises told a story of suffering and desperation, of a man who had fought valiantly by his side in many battles. Each scar was a testament to the battles he had faced and the sacrifices he had made for his comrades. It was clear that Spark had endured immense pain before his death. Carl knew from what he could see that Spark had gone through a lot before his death.
Carl felt as if he was going to explode from the anger boiling inside him.
"You are mine," a big looking soldier shouted as he dashed towards Carl.
A huge force threw him off, and he slammed through the opposing wall with ridiculous force and into the next room. He uttered a short grunt and lay motionless. All eyes left the newly created gaping hole and turned to face Carl and almost simultaneously, many mouths opened in shock. Many soldiers shook in fear as they looked on mute. The air around him was slightly reddish as if in a transparent pool of flames. Metallic weapons all around the room were forming a whirlpool around Carl. The sight was frightening and imposing. The mixture of swords, axes, arrows, spears, needles and various forms of blades started turning red and forming a red barrier around Carl. A rotating barrier of blades radiating heat and power, left no weakness in his defense.
The power the Grand Flame General transferred to him amplified his abilities and strength.
The shock and fright that enveloped everyone in the room was almost tangible. Even the captains present shook as if they were ants before a gorilla. Some of the soldiers could be seen peeing unconsciously on themselves.
"No one lives" Carl's pink lips paled in comparison to his red eyes. One after the other, some of the men fell to their knees. The fear made their legs unable to support them. The fear written on their faces was one to behold.
Before everyone's sight, the soldier holding the head of spark was pulled into Carl's defensive sphere. Carl took his time to piece him with each blade without physically touching him or the blades.
The soldier's screams reverberated throughout the hall. With what felt like an eternity to the viewers, Carl continued to torture his captive until he couldn't scream anymore, yet he continued.
Carl woke him up by pouring a jug of wine he had levitated from a nearby table. The torture continued. Everyone was stunned, no one moved. Carl disregarded everyone as if they weren't there. This made everyone scared.
No one was willing to help out the soldier. Just watching sent shivers down their spines. They shuddered to think that it could have been any of them. Carl's show off strength was shocking and mind boggling.
The soldier stood limp in mid-air. He was dead. Carl dropped him with a loud thud.
"This is bad." A young handsome man wearing rich clothes said to his aid. "No one knew he was this strong. I guess he has never really been serious until today. His lazy attitude towards training earned him the name, Lazy General. What demon have we created?"
"Can he really be this strong," the aid asked respectfully.
"Nathan, see for yourself. We prepared in advance for someone more than two times stronger just in case, but I fear that we still underestimated him. Send a message to Dean, tell him to surround the building with the standby unit."
"Yes sir." Transparent wings appeared behind Nathan, and he flew out into the cold dark night.
Nathan flew till he saw a group of men sitting in a clearing. He descended downward and landed nearby. He dusted himself and walked towards them in a hurry.
On arriving, he said to a middle-aged man who appeared to be the leader. "Captain Dean, Tim is asking for you to move in. The situation is dire."
Dean stood up and smiled with excitement. "It is time boys, let's go and teach them motherfuckers a lesson."
"Motherfucker not motherfuckers," Nathan said in a low tone.
"What do you mean?"
"There is only one person left." Nathan muttered, looking irritated.
"What? Then why the hell are we needed? Can't they just finish him off without us? And here I thought we were going to have some fun."
"You will get all the fun you need and even more"
"Who is it exactly?"
"Who else could give us this much trouble?"
A thoughtful look crossed Dean's face."Don't tell me they are struggling with Carl Newman this much?"
Nathan nodded and took off in the direction he came from.
With a loud whooshing sound, the barrier disappeared and bodies started falling to the ground. The force was such that many were thrown a distance before slumping down dead or unconscious. The hall was lit by dazzling lights of various shields erected by those still standing. Carl moved towards the nearest soldier who focused more on his shield and then started spurting blood as a sword pierced him from behind.
The whole hall erupted with swords juggling in the air and dropping bodies everywhere. The blades in the air acted as if they had a mind of their own and slayed almost everyone standing.
Two men remained standing and fighting off the swords. These men were known for their strength; Jiggs and juggs always fought together, thereby horning their ability to work as a team. They always knew what the other was thinking.
With a blow to the ground, juggs sent shock waves that brought some of the blades tumbling to the ground. They both pounced on Carl who raised both fists to block juggs' attack but was sent flying in the air towards the opposite direction. Jiggs met him midway in the air with his fist raised. His fist turned into gold and a huge pressure was churning around it.
"I don't see how Carl can survive that if it hits him" Nathan exclaimed with eyes widened with shock.
The golden fist connected with Carl's back, there was no time for him to react. He hit the floor with a loud crush, breaking the table below into hundreds of flying pieces.