Chapter 211: Helplessness
While the clash between Red and Michael continued to unfold at the center of the battlefield, Myles never once took his eyes off them.
His gaze remained locked with sharp and unblinking manner as he observed every movement, reaction, and detail that might reveal even the slightest opening.
Yet the longer he watched, the heavier the feeling in his chest became.
What he saw was not a fight between equals. It was something far worse.
"This isn’t good, goddamnit. How has he become so strong?" The unease inside him grew steadily and tightening like a slow coil as Red continued to block, endure, and even enjoy attacks that should have forced any normal opponent to retreat. "He’s not even trying!"
A sudden movement snapped briefly at the edge of his awareness.
Five figures rushed toward him at once. They were clearly Red’s remaining troops who attempted to intercept him before he could complete his positioning.
Myles reacted. His body moved without hesitation as his short sword cut through the air in a clean arc, followed immediately by his curved dagger striking from a lower angle.
Those black blades flashed in quick, precise and efficient succession. The first died before even reaching him, the second staggered back with a deep cut across the throat, and the remaining three barely managed a step forward before his blades found their marks.
Within seconds, all five of them dropped dead to the ground. Their bodies collapsed lifelessly as Myles didn’t even pause to look at them again.
He turned his head immediately. His focus snapping back toward the battlefield as his eyes look for Michael’s group.
Tobias stood at a distance, still firing his crossbow relentlessly, bolts cutting through the crimson-lit air with steady precision.
Selene moved nearby. Her skills flashing as she engaged enemies directly, her movements sharp and controlled.
Above them, Hana remained on the wall, her voice carrying across the battlefield as she directed the remaining ranged attackers, maintaining order despite the chaos below.
Darius held his position at the frontline. His shield raised as he intercepted incoming threats, creating space for the others to operate.
But one figure was missing.
Myles’ eyes narrowed slightly as he searched again, scanning every corner within his sight.
Rafe wasn’t there.
A sharp concern surfaced in his mind.
"Where is he?"
The absence felt wrong, especially at a time like this when every capable fighter should have been present.
For a moment, the thought lingered and threatened to pull his attention away from the center of the battlefield.
But Myles forced it down.
"Thinking about him now won’t change anything."
His focus snapped back to Red. That was where it needed to stay.
At the same moment, when his rage subsided, Michael finally noticed something that made his movements falter for the first time since the fight began.
His spear struck again, flames surging as it collided with Red’s arm. The fire burned fiercely as it blackened the flesh further, charring it to a near-crisp state.
For a split second Michael’s eyes widened slightly as he saw how far the damage had gone and how Red had allowed his own arm to be burned so completely without even attempting to avoid it.
But what came next... was worse.
The charred, blackened flesh began to squirm.
At first, it was subtle, almost unnoticeable beneath the flames. Then the burned surface started to crack and shift as if something beneath it was pushing outward.
The damage didn’t remain or worsen. It healed.
The flesh reformed rapidly, the burned layers peeling and rebuilding at the same time as new skin replaced what had been destroyed.
The glow beneath the cracks pulsing as if fueling the regeneration itself. In just a few seconds the arm that had been nearly burned to ruin returned to its previous state as if the attack had meant nothing at all.
Michael’s expression froze.
And Red saw it.
A wide, delighted grin spread across his face as a loud laugh burst out from his throat, filled with pure, unrestrained excitement.
"HAHAHA!" His voice rang out, sharp and mocking as his crimson eyes locked onto Michael’s reaction.
"What’s wrong? Did you really think that was going to hurt me?"
Michael’s body went still because the shock struck him harder. The rage that had been burning so fiercely inside him only moments ago flickered, then wavered, as other feelings forced its way back into his chest.
His eyes remained fixed on Red’s arm, watching the last trace of damage disappear as if it had never existed, and in that instant the fear he had buried beneath anger surged back to the surface.
Stronger than before.
His attack didn’t do anything.
The realization echoed in his mind. His grip around the spear loosened slightly, the flames around it trembling as his focus began to crack.
No matter how strong Red had become, that kind of regeneration, that complete disregard for damage, it crossed into another realm entirely.
"What... is he...?"
His breathing turned uneven.
The heat pressing around him no longer felt like just pressure. It felt like something suffocating him from all sides, as doubt crept deeper into his thoughts.
The anger that had driven him forward began to lose its edge, replaced by fear and hesitation.
"I can’t... even hurt him..."
The thought formed clearly, and once it did, it refused to leave.
It grew, feeding on everything he had just witnessed and twisting it as his mind began to spiral.
The image of his past failure resurfaced again.
The helplessness he had once felt crashing back into him without warning.
"He’s... a monster..."
He was not an enemy he could defeat... or something he could even reach...
His body stiffened, the strength in his limbs faltering as that truth settled in his mind.
The spear in his hand no longer felt like a weapon capable of killing. It felt insignificant and useless.
His thoughts fractured further.
"I can’t win..."
The fear tightened its grip, spreading through him, freezing his movements from the inside out as his confidence crumbled piece by piece.
His stance broke and it showed the instability building within him.
Michael stopped moving. Completely.
Red saw everything.
Another burst of laughter that sounded louder than before came from his throat, filled with pure delight as he watched the change happen right in front of him.
"HAHAHA!" His shoulders shook slightly as he leaned forward, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "There it is! that face! That’s the look I wanted to see!"
His voice dripped with mockery and excitement.
Before Michael could even react, Red moved.
He drove his fist forward without hesitation.
The impact landed with a deafening force that exploded as his punch connected with Michael’s body. The sheer power behind it sent a violent shock through the air as if something had burst apart at the point of contact.
Michael’s body was thrown back.
He flew across the battlefield, his figure tearing through the crimson-lit air as he was launched dozens of meters away. The ground cracked beneath him as he crashed down and rolled before finally coming to a stop.
When the movement ended, he didn’t rise.
His body lay there, collapsed into a helpless heap against the fractured ground.
The spear slipped slightly from his grasp as the force of the blow left him momentarily unable to move.
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