Chapter 153: [152]
The mist around the ruins began to part, as if nature itself made way for two forces about to collide.
Trek walked forward calmly, blood still dripping from his fingertips, marking a red trail behind him. His rock-hard muscles moved slowly beneath his dark skin, glowing faintly in the light of embers still smoldering.
"Well..." Trek finally spoke, his voice deep and heavy like an earthquake rising from the earth. "Normally I’m not one to talk a lot. But honestly, you’re intriguing. You took down a whole battalion I sent—barehanded, no magic. Ha, Gorthar the god of battle must be proud."
The name—Gorthar, the legendary god of duels and combat, celebrated across the continent as an entity who would challenge and be defeated, only to rise again and challenge more enemies. He was the embodiment of persistence, honor, and madness in battle.
Ren remained still for a moment, adjusting his stance.
"I’m flattered," he replied flatly, "but unfortunately I’m not handing anything over to you. Not the Kitsune. Not the tigers. Not anybody."
Trek sneered, baring sharp fangs. "Come on... Those Kitsune, from the start—they were mine. Merchandise. Property. And that penal tiger family of yours... yeah, I’m considering ’adopting’ them."
Ren exhaled, controlled but cold. The words that came from his lips sounded like metal being drawn from a sheath.
"In that case..." he said softly, "you just made the worst choice of your life."
"Heh," Trek chuckled. "Actually, it should be you feeling that way."
Without warning, they sprang into action.
Ren planted himself firmly, unleashing propulsion from the Pulse Gauntlet beneath his feet, sending himself forward like a bullet. His right fist lifted, ready to strike Trek’s chest.