Unholy Player

This is the kind of power I want, Adyr thought.

Sevrak didn’t even need to show up in person. Just hearing his name was enough to make people back down. That was real power—the kind that spoke for itself, even in silence.

Anyone can claim to be smart, talented, attractive, thoughtful, or strong. But saying those things doesn’t make them true. It’s just a personal illusion unless others, from the outside, see and believe the same. That was the difference. And right now, he was witnessing it in action.

Although Liora clearly seemed furious, it was just as clear she was holding herself back. She had no intention of killing Kharom. She knew the consequences wouldn’t affect her alone.

"L-Let me go," Kharom said, his voice strained under the pressure of the wall-like hand crushing him. He could hear his bones creaking, but instead of a man on the verge of death, his face still held the same arrogance.

As socially clueless as he was, even Kharom understood Liora wouldn’t actually kill him.

A final hmph echoed through the air before the massive hand finally loosened its grip. "If I see you here again, I’ll grind your bones to dust next time."

The moment her hand released him, Kharom collapsed like a sack of flour, gasping for the breath he hadn’t been able to draw for a while.

It was obvious that many of his bones had been fractured, and his body had taken serious damage. Yet after coughing up a few mouthfuls of black blood, he slowly rose to his knees. Recovery didn’t take him long.

His regeneration is impressive, Adyr noted silently. Another ability added to the list.

Once on his feet, Kharom didn’t look at Adyr or anyone else. His gaze went straight to Liora, who still hovered above them on a white cloud, staring down with contempt.