'T-this guy…!'
Fernand felt a burning rage course through his veins as he looked at the man who stood just a few meters from him.
'He has the audacity to show me his back?!'
Fernand already knew he was strong, wasn't this bordering on the line of hubris?
'I was caught off guard when he sent that pulsating attack that created distance between us.'
Still, that didn't give the fool a license to let his guard down in front of a powerful opponent.
Fernand knew he certainly wasn't going to be hit by that attack again.
'So why is he being so lax? Is he that confident in his victory? Or is he just a foolish youth who doesn't know his place?'
Fernand was willing to bet on the latter.
'It seems he hasn't experienced the ultimate disgrace—not like I have. He doesn't know there are bigger fish in this world.'
There was always someone stronger.
As a warrior, that realization had driven him to hone his strength and work even harder to reach his determined destination.
For many, though, this realization often came with despair.
They could never truly be the strongest since there was always going to be someone who was more talented or skilled that would surpass the strongest.
He experienced this when he was the Head Warrior and was bested by a Warrior within his ranks.
Back then, he had lost in every sense of the word—a fact that he wasn't willing to accept until he finally reflected on everything.
He was weaker than the current Head Warrior. He knew that.
After his disgrace, he remained in the Royal Estate in an attempt to regain his position, but nothing worked.
No matter how hard he trained, or how much work he put in, Brutus was always stronger.
He struggled against the tides so much that he began to sink so deep.
That was when an Epiphany hit him.
'There are some opponents you just can't surpass.'
Rather than try fruitlessly to do so, attention was better spent elsewhere.
… Perhaps in a smaller place where you could be the strongest.
And so, in a search for purpose and superiority, Fernand stumbled upon the Mercenary Gang and proved his power.
He was instantly promoted to the rank of the Heads of Destruction.
But… Fernand knew he deserved better.
He was definitely strong enough to be among the Deadly Three.
He just had to merit it.
'And now that I've finally made it this far… I won't be stopped by the likes of him!'
Fernand brandished his blade as he glared at the man he would soon cut down.
'I wanted to fight as a warrior, but it seems you simply want to die a swift death. Fair enough!'
Fernand decided to activate his Skills and strike at full strength.
There was no room for hubris here.
'[Swift Blade]. [Swift Mind]. [Elevate]. [Aura Sword].'
These were the four Skills that Fernand had—the very Skills that made him a deadly force that could not be stopped.
[Swift Blade] and [Swift Mind] made his weapon and mind move at such fast rates that time seemed to slow down exponentially.
When this happened, he could think very fast even in the shortest of moments.
With his sword moving very fast too, it would be too fast for any eye to perceive.
These, coupled with [Elevate] that improved his physical abilities so that they could match his mind and weapon's speed… made him a perfect fighter.
Fast—too fast to be evaded or blocked.
Then, his final Skill was what truly made him a nigh invincible warrior.
[Aura Sword] imbued his weapon with powerful and dense energy—Mana that had been compressed to its limits.
This was Aura… the energy that cuts through all things!
With all of these Skills on his side, he could easily cut down a nobody that stood in his way.
'Die for your foolishness.'
Fernand closed the distance between him and his target in one breath, his blade already raised to cut him down.
'Whether or not you have defenses, I'll cut them all down.'
That was the true nature of his blade.
~CLANG!~
'W-what?!'
Once again, Fernand met heavy resistance from his blade.
His strike had definitely been heavier and faster than ever before.
He even added Aura to it.
So how… why was this man's defenses so strong?
'W-who are you?!'
The man in the mask slowly looked at him, his eyes shining brightly as Fernand felt his body growing still.
"I believe I already told you…" His calm voice echoed in the air, and Fernand heard every syllable.
But it wasn't in slow motion.
Despite his Skills being activated, he was perceiving the opponent in real time.
Why was that? We're his Skills not working? Had he slowed down?
No… none of those were the answer.
The answer was very simple, but unacceptable to Fernand.
Just like when he lost, the old man could not comprehend what was happening, nor did he want to accept it.
… The fact that the Reaper was moving just as fast as he was.
No—maybe even faster.
"I said I would attend to you once I was done, but it seems you're in a hurry to die."
Fernand felt a chill down his spine the moment he heard that.
He followed his instinct and leaped back the moment he felt the bloodlust of his target wash over him.
The man before him was no longer the prey.
He had become the predator.
Ralyks—as he called himself—rose from his position, his eyes still on Fernand.
'W-what's this? Why…? Why can't I move?!'
Fernand's body was shaking violently as he witnessed the blood-curdling pressure that a single man was emitting.
As he felt this sensation, he remembered… the deep-rooted terror he had buried.
The one that was given to him by the Dragons!
'N-no… there's no way he's that strong!'
However, now that Fernand felt even more of the pressure that Ralyks gave out, he wasn't so sure about his earlier thought.
There was no way a human was this strong.
'H-he's a… a…!!'