Chapter 63: You Should Be Afraid! You Should Be on Your Knees Begging!
Students had gathered across the field in nervous little groups, whispering about the strange tension that had settled over the school.
Unease showed on every face.
"I have a feeling I might be next..."
Before anyone could answer, smoke burst from the third floor of the teaching building.
Five dark figures shot out as though fired from a cannon, sailing dozens of meters in a wild arc before crashing into the middle of the field.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The ground shuddered beneath five heavy impacts.
Dust rolled outward.
Every conversation stopped.
Students stood frozen, staring at the bodies twitching in the grass.
"What the hell?"
"Is that... Marr?"
Someone shouted his name.
The dean who usually strutted through the school as though he owned it now lay facedown like a dead dog. Blood covered his face, and his badly fitted suit had been torn into strips.
The four hulking men beside him were in even worse shape. Their chests had caved in, foam spilling from their mouths.
A sharp breath swept through the crowd.
Who had done this?
Heads turned almost as one toward the hole blasted through the third floor wall.
A tall figure stepped into view, framed by the light behind him.
Wind tugged at the hem of his clothes.
The hood slipped back, revealing a clean cut face gone cold and unreadable.
The field erupted.
"Joren?"
"Was he not expelled?"
"He kicked all five of them out with one strike?"
"How is that even possible?"
Joren ignored the noise below.
His toes touched the broken edge.
With [Lithe Form], his body drifted down like a black feather and landed at the center of the field without a sound.
He stopped beside Marr.
The man was still groaning.
None of this made sense to him.
How?
Why?
"Do not... do not kill me..."
Marr finally broke.
Ignoring the agony twisting through his body, he clawed backward through the grass.
"I am a teacher... the dean... you cannot..."
Joren planted a foot on his chest.
"Lead the way."
"Take me to Dace."
All color left Marr’s face.
His lips trembled.
"I... I do not know..."
Crack.
A rib snapped beneath Joren’s boot.
"Ah!"
Marr screamed like a pig under the knife. Tears and mucus ran together across his face.
"The old teaching building!"
"The air raid shelter underground!"
"He is there!"
"Do not kill me. I will take you!"
House Hurst, his future, every reward he had imagined.
None of it mattered now.
Marr scrambled upright on hands and knees, fighting through the pain. Bent and limping, he shuffled toward the old teaching building like a mangy dog with a broken spine.
Joren followed with both hands in his pockets.
No hurry.
Wherever he walked, the crowd opened before him.
Marr had just reached the rusted iron door of the old building when a foul reek of blood rolled out on a cold draft.
Joren stopped.
"No."
"I am not going in."
Marr suddenly shrieked and backed away.
"He is coming out!"
"You will die!"
"We are all going to die!"
He turned to run.
Being beaten to death by Joren was still better than being eaten by the thing inside.
Too late.
Boom!
The iron door weighed hundreds of pounds, yet it tore apart like paper.
A massive claw covered in dark blue scales thrust through the opening with a shriek of displaced air.
Splurt.
Marr never had time to react.
The claw closed around his head and crushed it.
Blood and pale fragments sprayed across the ground.
His headless body convulsed twice, then folded.
Screams broke across the field.
Students scattered in every direction.
Dust drifted away from the entrance.
A creature nearly two and a half meters tall stepped out of the darkness.
Scales covered almost its entire body. Only enough human shape remained to make the sight worse.
Cold green pupils swept across the field before locking onto Joren.
Its mouth split open, exposing bloodstained fangs.
A hideous smile.
"Joren..."
The voice scraping out of its throat sounded like rusted metal grinding together.
"I am so hungry..."
"Once I eat you... I will be complete..."
Joren let out a quiet breath.
"Dace."
"You turned yourself into this just to wait for me to kill you?"
Dace threw back his head.
A roar burst from his throat, neither human nor beast.
Rank Four pressure crashed across the field like a physical wave.
Students at the far edge dropped in rows, as though an invisible hand had forced them down. Those with weaker Vital Force rolled their eyes back and collapsed outright.
"Do you see?"
"This is power."
"This is the final stage of evolution."
Dace drew in a deep breath, savoring the blood in the air as though it were perfume.
"Back then, you refused me over some worthless Strategic Exemption Quota."
"Looking back, it is almost funny."
"That trash was never worth anything."
He advanced with slow, heavy steps.
Each footfall shattered the concrete beneath him and left a crater behind.
"I am a god now."
"And you..."
Behind him, Hector Tyren brushed dust from the collar of his dark suit.
"You should not feel wronged, Joren."
"To become the fuel that carries Dace into Rank Five is the greatest honor your life will ever amount to."
His gaze traveled over the boy in the black hooded sweatshirt, cold and superior.
"Once Dace reaches Rank Five, even Antares Command will be helpless against us."
"You are about to witness the rise of House Hurst."
Now that Dace had reached Rank Four, neither of them bothered pretending anymore.
They only had to keep feeding him students from the schools.
Rank Five was no longer a question of possibility.
Only time.
Joren said nothing.
House Hurst.
This could not stop with Dace and Hector Tyren.
He would dig through the whole thing, all the way to the root.
That silence drove Dace into a frenzy.
The green light in his eyes flared.
"What are you pretending for?"
"You should be afraid!"
"You should be on your knees begging!"
"You should be crying for mercy!"
He had become this powerful.
Yet Joren still showed no fear.
Why?
"Die!"
The ground exploded beneath Dace.
His body vanished.
Half a second later, he was already above Joren.
The enormous claw, lined with hooked scales, tore down through the air with a piercing scream.
"Joren!"
Kest’s cry ripped across the field.