"Ahhh, bastard..." the muscle head groaned, surprising me. I honestly thought he was dead with all that blood pouring out.
But no.
He rubbed the blood off his face, stretched his body, and stood up, locking eyes with the manager before glancing back at me.
"Asuka, he's got blood essence on him. Take it, and you could restore your prime," he muttered.
Is this guy insane? Let the manager alone, my so-called prime was already far weaker than himself, and the biggest part is, how could I possibly manage to get blood essence from the manager without any assasin or robbing technique?
He should atleast know that? Is he getting desperate?
No, wait—maybe he was just trying to buy time, diverting the manager's attention.
Smart move, but I'm not playing your fucking scapegoat here.
"Noooo, I don't want anything! Pls let me just go back," I blurted, trying to sound as weak and pathetic as possible. If I could make the manager believe I was too powerless to bother with, maybe I could sneak away later when things got messy.
The manager glanced at me, unimpressed. "There," he said, pointing to a rusty chair nearby. "Sit down and enjoy the show. Don't worry, your honour killing comes last. For now, no need to act impatient."
*Great.*
I wasn't giving up, but for now, I played along, shuffling over to the chair and sitting down as he told me to, all while keeping my eyes peeled for even a slight opening I could get.
Once he saw I had obediently taken my seat, the manager turned his attention back to the muscle head.
Without wasting a second, he appeared behind him, launching a brutal uppercut. The blow sent teeth flying from the muscle head's mouth, including a shiny silver one that hit the ground with a metallic clink.
The muscle head gasped and wheezed, clearly in agony, barely able to move.
That first kick had already shown the massive gap in power between them, and now he was just a battered mess on the floor.
The manager's eyes narrowed, spotting the faint energy leaking from the silver tooth. A smirk spread across his face. "So that's how you hid your realm.
A mere master mage thought he could slip away from Roth? Seriously, you brats take the world way too lightly."
The muscle head, despite his extreme pain, began to crawl away, the manager watching him with amusement, like a human eyeing an ant trying to escape.
Why the hell isn't he using his cheat? He didn't come here without a plan, right?
The manager tilted his head, the light in his eyes completely devoid of concern. "So, who do you work for? Depending on your answer, I might make your death quick and painless."
A laugh escaped the muscle head's bloodied lips in response, and both the manager and I couldn't help but frown. His sudden cockiness was almost unsettling.
"So, you indeed got a backup?" the manager asked, sounding like he already knew the answer, but he remained completely unfazed.
"You damn monster!" The muscle head's voice regained some of its bravado. "The device already sent a signal to the main family. You're done for!"
You're supposed to be my golden finger and yet why are you speaking like a third-rate character?
The manager's lips curled into a smile. "Oh, one of the seven great families, huh? So, when's your backup supposed to arrive?"
There wasn't a hint of urgency or fear in his tone. It was like he was still enjoying some private joke, even after the mention of the seven great families—supreme entities that held unparalleled power, even in the later parts of the story.
Even that damn extra, Vigra, had never underestimated them.
Yet here was this manager, totally unfazed. Was he really that strong? Or just plain psycho?
How the hell was this guy never mentioned in the novel? The author's a real fuck for leaving out plot holes like this.
Tsk! He should have been the one to get trap his damn novel in the first place, not me, then he would have realised what a crime it is to leave plot holes this big.
Suddenly, the ground shook with a *thump*, dust swirling up around us, clouding my vision. When it finally settled, I caught sight of her—an ethereal beauty, possibly in her thirties, though it was impossible to tell for sure. Mana had a way of making people seem ageless.
Is she the plot armour I've been waiting for? I couldn't help but let out a laugh, but—Slap!—a hand struck me across the face before I could savour the moment.
"What the...?" I turned to see one of the guards, his stern face glaring at me. "Shut it!" He signalled me to stay quiet.
Damn it. I should've known the manager wouldn't leave me unwatched. Now my only hope was with this woman.
"I don't know who you are, but—" she began, but the manager cut her off with a broader grin.
"Now this time, it's just a grandmaster?" he sneered, his tone dripping with disappointment. "I don't know why you lot keep underestimating Roth."
The woman's face remained composed, but there was a glint of annoyance in her eyes. The manager, however, seemed to be getting more amused by the second, as if he were a child playing with a fragile toy.
Wait... Did he just say 'mere grandmaster'?
Grandmaster was an insane level of power, achieved by only a small fraction of humanity.
Even higher species found it difficult to reach that rank.
The instructors at the United Academy, the place where most of the story takes place, were grandmasters!
And yet here he was, calling it mere.
Who the hell is this guy?