Chapter 64: She has no patience
Behind that skyscraper of a tower, a false calm prevailed that lasted only a few seconds before the tower wall exploded violently, hushing chunks of stone and sparks outward in a terrifying spectacle that shook the core of the surrounding street.
From the midst of dust and ruin, Roger stood firmly at the edge of the breach he had just carved, casting a chilling, contemptuous gaze at Hazen’s body, which had been sent flying like a feather from that punch.
Hazen was in a free fall from that height, but within a split second, he unleashed a furious roar and tore his robe, exposing massive white wings from his back that slammed the air violently to halt his descent. Hovering in place, he locked his bloodshot eyes upward with a lethal promise: "You are dead... I swear you are absolutely dead!"
Roger didn’t care about those words; to him, it was like listening to the buzz of an annoying fly. Under the influence of his sheer madness, a terrifying silver aura of star magic erupted from his body, gradually lifting him off the ground to levitate in midair like a sovereign of space. He slowly raised both hands, and in the center of each palm, a six-pointed star rotated with frantic violence, creating a sharp screech in the ether while storm-force winds battered his robe.
Hazen was unfazed by this display, as his physical form began to morph grotesquely. Thick hide grew over his hands, covered in rigid scales, while sharp claws capable of shredding iron extended from his fingertips.
With maximum ferocity and momentum, Hazen beat his wings against the air, propelling his body at supernatural speed toward Roger, leaving a deafening sonic wake that nearly ruptured the eardrums.
At that exact moment, Roger’s abilities were fully charged. He moved his hands in complex, rapid gestures, tracing a massive magic circle in the vacuum, and then unleashed a colossal, glowing star that launched vertically like a missile to collide with the oncoming Hazen.
Hazen felt an immense tension and crushing pressure from the searing heat radiating from that explosive star. Utilizing his flight mastery, he banked at a sharp angle in midair to miraculously evade it, though not without scorching some of his white wing feathers, which sent up plumes of black smoke.
Hazen pressed his charge, ready to rip Roger apart with his claws, but he noticed too late—far too late—that the star he had avoided had not vanished. Instead, it was moving like a lethal boomerang, looping in a circular trajectory to strike him from behind at a insane speed!
Hazen tried to maneuver and fly away again, but before he could even flap his wings, he felt a cold, iron grip clamp down on his neck with precise tightness, paralyzing him from making any movement or maneuver in midair.
It was Roger! He stood directly in front of him, absolute grimness blanketing his features, his six-pointed eyes spinning with zero intent to negotiate. Behind Hazen’s back, the rebounding star came to a halt, spinning at a terrifying speed just inches from his flesh, its heat already melting Hazen’s scales and burning his feathers. The commander’s life was literally at the mercy of this lunatic minister, who looked as if he wanted to burn him a thousand times over in the depths of hell.
In a searing, icy voice, Roger demanded: "Where are they..?"
Despite the fatal predicament, Hazen was boiling with rage and barked, trying to salvage his dignity: "You won’t escape this alive... Do you think you can flee the wrath of the Transmigrators Organization with your big head intact?"
With his words, the rotation of the star behind him intensified in violence, to the point that it began to warp space and tear small black holes around it, while Roger’s grip on his neck tightened.
"So... you refuse to talk?" Roger said with chilling calmness.
Panic seized Hazen’s heart, and he no longer knew how to act; reports and intel indicated that this scoundrel standing before him resided at the lowest tier of the Noble Level, while he—Hazen—was classified among the strongest Prince Levels! How could this maniac paralyze and humiliate him like this without exerting any noticeable effort?!
Hazen spat a stammering threat: "Heh... even if I die here, the vengeance of the Transmigrators Organization will be so brutal and harsh that you won’t even find time to beg for mercy... Hahaha!"
An absolute silence then blanketed the area, and the wind died down for a few seconds. Roger didn’t speak; he merely etched a calm, cold smile on his lips as he raised his other free fist, which shimmered with a concentrated star aura like a ticking time bomb.
"Do you know what made me abandon my former title as a Military Marshal?" Roger asked in a whispering tone.
Hazen swallowed hard, trying to keep his features together, but Roger’s stellar punch was faster than consciousness and stronger than any defense. It launched like a bolt of lightning and buried itself right in the middle of Hazen’s jaw, causing the world to spin around him as if the birds of a coma were circling his head.
Roger finished his sentence coldly as he watched Hazen’s body go limp, losing consciousness entirely: "..Because I simply do not possess a single shred of patience for fools who do not grasp who the real controller is here."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital, Duke Cain and his daughter Amelia sat in a luxurious restaurant breathing elegance, worlds away from the bleak and charged atmosphere of the tower and its surrounding area. Since Cain had recently had his scouting and sensory abilities stripped away because of the Michael Jewel, losing nearly half of his mana reserve, he had absolutely no clue about the epic showdown and destruction occurring at his tower right now.
Cain was completely focused on selecting fine dishes for his daughter, while beautiful, soothing musical melodies played in the restaurant’s background to add an air of comfort.
During this time, a young waitress stepped forward with a playful smile, deftly placing the dishes on the table. As Cain lifted the lid of the delicious "Alagouria Meat Algae Soup," he was met with a bizarre surprise. The green algae inside the broth had been meticulously arranged to trace out the address of a specific house, and right next to the address, a distinct, small heart was drawn.
Cain looked up in astonishment at the waitress, only to see her darting an admiring glance at him, blowing him a flying kiss followed by a shy wink before running off with flushed cheeks!
Amelia slowly raised her eyes to the dish, then to the departing waitress, her childlike facial expression shifting in a fraction of a second.
"The algae soup looks highly delicious and appetizing, Father..." Amelia said in a calm tone, but it carried an eerie coldness that sent a sudden shiver down Cain’s spine.
She continued, extending her small hand in a strange manner to grip the meat-carving knife with an iron, forceful clutch unsuited for a five-year-old child: "But as a Great Duke, you naturally won’t need it... You must eat other, healthier foods. Try this instead!"
Amelia forcefully yanked the soup bowl away from her father, raised the knife, and with swift, violent movements, plunged the blade into the soup bowl. She began hacking the algae and the drawn heart with signs of fury, reducing the features of the dish and the address into a thousand minced, scattered pieces amidst the liquid!
She set the knife back on the table calmly, then looked at her father with a highly innocent, bright smile as if she had done nothing a moment ago: "Why aren’t you eating, Father?.. What do you think about leaving this restaurant and going somewhere else immediately if you don’t like the food here?"