Returning to the Mysterious Era

Chapter 177 - Submitting Obediently (II)

Chapter 177 - Submitting Obediently (II)

Boom!!!

A muffled thunderclap erupted as the impact created a shockwave, sending translucent waves of compressed air flying in all directions, and sweeping away the scattered leaves on the ground. Nearby, the magician and the catwoman felt their heads buzz from the force.

Cassius and Number Four stood on either side of the cement ground. Although the intense reactive force from their collision dissipated into the ground, the cement could no longer withstand such immense power, cracks radiating out in a circle from their feet.

"Your defense is pretty good, and your muscles are quite tough. I'm surprised your arm didn't shatter on impact," Cassius remarked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The next moment, bone-cracking sounds echoed like beans popping in a hot pan. The powerful purple arm before him began to tremble, countless fine cracks spiderwebbing across his tough skin. Blood began oozing out, fragments of white bone mixed in with the trickle.

"Aaargh!" Number Four howled and staggered back, his right arm hanging limp at his side. It was more like a mass of pulp with the muscles and blood vessels inside completely ruined.

This overwhelming strength! It's at least double the power of my punch! Could it be true? Could he have really killed Miguel and taken the pocket watch? How is this possible!!!

Cassius's figure blurred into a shadow and vanished. Like an apparition, he reappeared right in front of Number Four, his blood-red, murderous eyes glaring straight at him.

"Go to hell!" Number Four cursed under his breath and threw a punch with his still-functioning left fist, but was instantly blocked by Cassius's elbow.

Cassius moved quickly, forcing his way into Number Four's embrace and appeared right before an unprotected chest. He came down on it like a tempestuous gale with a relentless storm of punches.

Bang, bang, bang, bang...

Cassius's fists, wrapped in white energy, landed dozens of blows in just a second. Pouring all his overwhelming power into Number Four, he pounded his chest until, with a wet splat, his arms pierced straight through Number Four like iron rods. Two blood-streaked white fists penetrated straight through his back, thick blood and whatever remnants of internal organs dripping from his hands.

"Blargh!" Number Four spat out blood, his eyes bloodshot.

How... how could I die at the hands of such an insignificant person?

With a tearing sound, Number Four was ripped in half from his chest. As blood rained down, Cassius charged toward the surrounding White Skulls members.

Whoosh!

A white knife hand slashed through the air in a deadly arc, slicing off a head in one clean stroke. Cassius dodged an attack, then countered with a sweeping kick, sending another enemy flying.

A transparent psychic power, condensed into the shape of a hammer, struck the back of Cassius's head, but it did nothing except produce a dull thud. He turned around, expression cold, and drove his fist into the psychic's chest lightning fast, blood erupting as he pulled it out.

Cassius's gaze quickly swept across the battlefield. He noticed Soro standing nearby, his face frozen in shock, but no magician or catwoman. He turned and finally spotted a distant figure, about to disappear from view.

Cassius shook his hand and thought to himself, Running away, huh? Seriously? I'm not some kind of man-eating demon. My subordinates are too timid; I'll have to toughen them up later.

In truth, his current appearance was far from reassuring. His entire body was drenched in blood, his face splattered red, and there seemed to be organ bits glued to his hair. His enormous, muscular frame was swollen so that he looked like a small giant, and with his blood-red eyes, he exuded a menacing aura. Coupled with his calm and composed manner as he killed in the chaos, he resembled nothing less than a killing machine.

"Trash should stay out of the way!"

Cassius charged ahead, knocking away all the White Skull members who tried to block his path. Some of the less fortunate ones who were hit in vital spots died instantly. Just as he was about to continue his pursuit...

"Hey, friend." Soro lowered his hat's brim, blocking Cassius's path. But a second later, he quickly rolled to the ground and scrambled away.

"Shit!" Soro glanced to the right, where a shadow streaked across the ground like lightning, leaving behind a trail of shattered footprints.

If he had been hit by such speed and power, it would have been no different from being run over by a heavy truck. The same fate that befell Number Four could easily have been his.

"Not interested in talking? Fine," Soro muttered to himself as he surveyed the battlefield. "What a strong and mysterious man." At least half of the White Skulls' neo-human powerhouses lay on the ground, the rest were injured and groaning, with little to no fighting strength left.

One bald man spotted the damaged pillars and immediately flew into a rage. "Bastard, how dare you—"

Thud!

He was cut off by a large, rock-colored hand piercing through his chest. No one had even noticed that the tall figure had appeared, and it wasn't until the bald man collapsed, blood gushing from his wound, that the remaining White Skulls fighters realized what had happened. They scrambled to activate their abilities, but it was too late.

Thud, thud, thud...

Cassius moved among them with a deadly grace, his hands spreading out like a waterfowl skimming the surface. While it seemed gentle as it touched down, lethal intent was hidden in its steps.

By the time his figure vanished back into the mist, all that remained were three White Skulls fighters clutching their throats, eyes wide open as blood seeped through their fingers. They gasped raggedly before crumpling to the ground.

Several seconds later...

Whoosh.

A gust of wind blew past, and a figure leaped down from a nearby building like a predator pouncing on its prey.

Bang!

Cassius whirled around and punched the figure's head, fragments exploding out as though it had been made of brittle material. The headless body collapsed to the ground. Blood poured out, slowly seeping into the nearby bronze pillar. The thorn-like patterns on the pillar's surface began to glow, spreading upward.

He continued dashing forward without pause. By now, at least eight to nine people had died by his hands, most of them unable to put up much of a fight.

The surrounding dozen or so pillars lit up as well, a faint red glow cutting through the mist, the red light spreading from one bronze pillar to another, and connecting them all across the manor. Whether inside the manor or out on the streets, the blood from the fallen began to evaporate and merge with the surrounding mist. An unseen force swept through the area, drawing something from within.

Glug, glug, glug...

At the heart of the manor, where the mist shrouded the central plaza, the faint and distant sound of flowing water could be heard as if a river was passing through.

Hum...

The central metal pillar suddenly began to spin, its drill-like structure accelerating as it slowly bore into the ground.

"What's going on? Why has the ritual started early?!"

Number Five, who had been quietly waiting in the shadows nearby, suddenly opened his eyes. He glanced at the white dial of his watch. It was 10:28 p.m.; there were still two minutes before the Demonic Water Ritual was supposed to begin.

The difference might be minute but it was significant. The ritual must have undergone some sort of mutation—something beyond the White Skulls' control. Had the configuration been damaged? Or perhaps the blood sacrifice pillars hadn't been set up properly?

The curly-haired man twisted the silver ring on his finger, his demeanor growing darker. His thoughts raced as he suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute, even if there was a problem with the blood sacrifice pillars, the Demonic Water Ritual shouldn't have been activated early! Without the sacrificial victims, the ritual shouldn't be able to start at all. Everyone should be killed at exactly 10:30 p.m.!"

His eyes narrowed as a possibility dawned on him. "Unless... Unless our fighters have all been killed."

Boom!

A figure soared through the air like a piece of torn black cloth, crashing into the plaza and bursting apart like a blood-red firework.

Thud, thud, thud...

A man walked forward. Aside from the black coat draped over his shoulders, his muscular upper body was bare.

"Hey, you there, kid. Yes, you—don't look around, I'm talking to you—have you seen a guy dressed like a magician pass by?"