Chapter Forty-Nine: The End

“Come out! Come out here! Coward, are you scared now?”

Michael was still pacing through the thick mist, no longer as frantic as before. Judging from their previous exchange, the abilities of that yellow-skinned monkey were clearly inferior to his own. Now, all the other could do was hide, but Michael wasn’t worried—he could sense Faeron nearby. The damned fog merely made it impossible to pinpoint his exact location for now, and it seemed his opponent had no intention of giving up... The thought made Michael’s lips curl into a ferocious grin.

If his opponent tried to run, Michael knew he’d have trouble catching the slippery bastard. But now, the fool seemed unwilling to abandon hope—this was a chance. If he could seize it, subdue Faeron, and bring him back, Michael was sure the legion’s leaders would forgive him for this failure.

As for next time... that could wait.

“Whoosh!”

Suddenly, Michael detected a faint rush of air. His expression sharpened and he focused his attention. Instantly, he felt a chill at the back of his head, and saw a scalpel spinning through the air before landing on the ground.

There!

Without hesitation, Michael slammed his right foot down, launching himself like a cannonball toward the direction from which the scalpel had flown. His right fist crashed forward. With his movement, a barrage of invisible shockwaves erupted, forming a tornado-like blast that swept away the surrounding mist. At its edge, Michael glimpsed a shadow swiftly retreating.

Trying to escape? Not so easily!

Having finally found his target, Michael wasted no time, unleashing a speed no ordinary human could achieve. He stomped hard, leaping high toward the fleeing shadow. At the same time, he locked his hands together and raised them overhead.

“Die!”

With Michael’s furious shout, he smashed his hands down. The ground below seemed to sink as if struck by an invisible giant hammer, and the explosive force instantly cleared away the dense fog, revealing Faeron’s figure.

Caught you—now die!

Staring at Faeron just a short distance away, Michael bared his teeth again. He could almost see the agony and regret on the bastard’s face when he fell to Michael’s overwhelming strength, could watch that disgusting expression twist in despair, and finally perish... It would be the perfect entertainment!

But to Michael’s shock, as he opened his palm to strike, Faeron lifted his head, pressed his hat’s brim, and offered a gentle smile—at that sight, an instinctive, primal terror of danger surged in Michael’s heart.

No—this is a trap!

“Whoosh!”

Just as Michael realized something was wrong, danger arrived. A massive spiked club tore through the air, shooting out from the mist like a meteor straight toward Michael. His focus had been entirely on Faeron; by the time he sensed the threat, the club was already upon him. In less than five seconds, it would crash into his body with immense force, smashing his upper half into pulp.

“No—!”

Desperate, Michael thrust his right hand out to shield himself. The club slammed into his hand, then, just like Faeron’s scalpel earlier, sped back toward its origin. A moment later, a thunderous boom erupted in the distance, accompanied by blinding light and flames—it looked as if something had exploded.

But Michael did not escape unscathed. Though he managed to deflect the club, its tremendous impact hurled him to the ground. He landed with a heavy thud, pain radiating from his back so fiercely that he couldn’t help but scream. Before he could recover, a shadow flashed—Faeron appeared before him again. Michael saw a cold gleam arc toward him, as if aiming to pierce his heart.

“Don’t even think about it!”

The fear of death overwhelmed his physical agony. Michael gritted his teeth, clenched his left fist, and swung it at Faeron. If he could just land a blow on the bastard, he’d still have a fighting chance! But to his horror, as he punched, the silvery flash suddenly leapt up, twining around his hand like a dancing snake. The scalpel’s blade easily pried open his fingernails, slicing swiftly along his knuckles. In the blink of an eye, accompanied by a deafening, shrill scream, Michael’s left fingers were sliced apart like sausages, leaving only a bare, bleeding palm.

“Ahhhhh! Aaaaaaaaah!”

The agony was so intense, so searing, that Michael could no longer endure it. His right hand, already mangled by the club, was now a mess of blood and flesh, and his left had been butchered by Faeron. He was nearly faint with pain—a relentless, unstoppable tide, as if he were trapped in a blazing furnace, about to melt. He rolled frantically, trying to escape the torment, but nothing relieved it. Not until a scalpel stabbed into his palm, pinning it to the ground.

“Uwaaah!”

“Oh dear, my apologies. You seem to be in quite a bit of pain…”

Watching Michael, now unable to move, barely twitching from sheer instinct, Faeron smiled gently. He crouched down, reaching out to softly stroke Michael’s trembling body.

“But rest assured—I am a ‘doctor.’ To relieve your pain is but a moment’s work…”

“Uh... ugh…”

Michael turned his head, glaring fiercely at Faeron. His eyes were bloodshot, tears and snot streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks—human instinct in response to agony. If he could, Michael would have gladly lost consciousness to escape the pain. But to his despair, his mind remained painfully clear, unable to trigger that protective mechanism. Seeing Michael’s expression, Faeron’s smile grew even softer.

“I imagine you’re curious why your ability suddenly stopped working…”

As he spoke, Faeron raised his right hand and waved it before Michael. Seeing what he held, Michael’s eyes widened in terror—it was the pendant that had hung around his neck, now claimed as another’s trophy.

“It seems you were right—you really are just an ordinary man with no power. Your ability comes from this object… Now then, can you tell me what it actually is?”

“Ugh... ugh…”

“Stubbornness is hardly a virtue. It seems you still don’t understand your predicament…”

Seeing Michael still clenching his teeth, silent, Faeron smiled and flexed his fingers. Another scalpel appeared at his fingertips.

“In that case, I’ll have to ask your body myself. Don’t worry, I’m a doctor—I won’t let you die so easily… Now, where shall we begin…”