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墨書 Inktalez
Instinctively retreating was a reflex triggered by the body’s own judgment.
In that fleeting moment of proximity, the murderous intent radiating from the dark figure was what terrified Freyr the most. This aura of death had already surpassed his current threshold of endurance, causing his scalp to tingle. At the same time, he furrowed his brow slightly and rolled up his sleeve, noticing a thin layer of blood seeping from the edge, slowly spreading across the fabric.
The fact that his nails had managed to slice through the reinforced muscle layer at such high speed was astonishing. It was as if the enhancement from Gene Chain had no effect whatsoever against this dark presence.
The speed was so overwhelming that he felt no pain from the wound when it occurred. He pressed his hand against the arterial wound, contracting his muscles forcefully, and blood gushed forth. However, this was merely a temporary measure; he contracted his muscles to prevent toxins from spreading further. For this purpose, he took out a bandage, tore it into strips, and bound it tightly around his elbow to completely seal off the flow of blood. Yet, in doing so, with the muscle at the elbow fully Ultimate, he had effectively severed any connection with the dark figure.
While preparing himself, the dark figure twisted its neck and smirked slightly, licking its blood-stained fingertips. Then, with a swift step forward, its hands transformed into deadly claws; those rounded nails could now become sharp blades. It seemed that the Executioners within Scout were truly terrifying monsters. In an instant, its figure blurred and lunged toward Freyr, fingers slashing through the air once more, attacking from an unknown direction.
"This is far more terrifying than any opponent I’ve encountered before without any preparation or warning. Why have I never heard of such a person in my past life? Ah, many strong individuals from my previous life perished during the Insect War—this is the effect of the Executioner's dark steps?!"
Freyr dared not be careless at this moment. Although he wasn’t armed, he used his backpack as a shield as he entered Gene Lock state. He could feel danger approaching; that sense of impending death only served to unleash his potential further. Yet, his backpack was rapidly disintegrating!
With a swift clawing motion, the dark figure pulled and tore apart Freyr's resilient backpack effortlessly. The contents scattered everywhere. Freyr managed to grab a sturdy object from inside—the Military Baton—designed to be compact enough for easy storage.
However, this tearing action inadvertently aided Freyr greatly. He quickly seized the baton just in time to block the fatal strike of claws aimed at him. With a horizontal swing and a powerful thrust using its tip, he struck against the dark hand with a loud crack.
At that moment, Freyr sensed something was amiss with his opponent; an overwhelming surge of Combat Awareness washed over him. That awareness began to awaken suppressed instincts for slaughter within his mind. The two conflicting urges clashed violently until Freyr struggled to suppress that demonic consciousness gradually.
The lethal strike from the dark figure did not yield expected results; instead, it retreated to advance again. It leaped into action, its form blurring rapidly. Suddenly, multiple afterimages appeared before him—each one silent as shadows. The effect of dark steps had activated without him realizing it. Alongside this was the gradual manifestation of Limb Curve's effect; as its speed increased, it appeared as though many figures surrounded him. When it launched an attack, all those afterimages converged together—if one couldn’t discern reality from illusion, their life could be at stake.
Killing an officer during training could carry severe consequences; however, sometimes it didn’t necessarily lead to military court proceedings. Perhaps Executioners could evade certain responsibilities more directly in some aspects. If they were implicated as spies in any legal matter—even if they survived—the question of military court became irrelevant; sparing them would already be seen as mercy by Executioners.
The degree of defeat was immense, but the unavoidable issue was that this Executioner was no longer just about killing. Freyr's situation was dire; it felt as if attacking in a single direction yielded no results. Before he could even react, a thin layer of blood seeped from the corner of his clothing, which, strangely enough, showed no visible damage. However, the muscle fibers beneath were being destroyed.
The people around him looked on in horror; this was a form of live dissection, a method used by the Executioner when interrogating war criminals or spies. They deliberately avoided arteries or vital targets, scraping away bits of flesh slowly. Freyr's predicament was truly tragic; even wanting to withdraw from such a battle had become impossible.
Freyr bitterly wiped the blood from his cheek and said, "I’ve found a way to break the Limb Curve. I’ll show you how."
The Doll-Faced figure, rushing forward, spoke softly amidst the silence, "You've been taking hits since earlier. The process of dissection isn’t over yet; you’ll have to stay put. Breaking free? That’s a possibility for later. Even if you do, I’ll ensure you carry a shadow of fear in your heart!"
"You’re truly insidious. Not only do you want your opponent to falter in their calculations, but you also aim to destroy their psyche. You’ve miscalculated; your opponent is me. I’m not like them. All I see is the desire for victory. For someone who has long given up on life, pain holds no meaning. Even if my limbs are rendered useless, I will fight until my last breath to survive. I’m sorry; I will disappoint your plans."
At this point, the remnants of Doll-Faced's cold laughter echoed around them, mocking the notion that one should always have a moment to laugh at their opponent. Yet at that moment, Doll-Faced lunged once more at the prey nailed to the cross. The sound of cracking bones echoed as her wrists twisted; her rounded nails transformed into sharp blades that sliced through skin with precision. This action appeared torturous but required great skill.
Freyr's muscles tensed instantly as he braced himself against the military baton, enduring immense pain. In that moment, he forcefully charged toward Sting's direction, startling not only those present but also Dark, who was taken aback as well. The originally shallow wound suddenly widened, and blood gushed forth violently. Dark desperately tried to evade it, but as he retreated, the situation changed dramatically—a thick arm suddenly reached out to grab him.
"I've got you!"
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