[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary Chapter 406: Invisible Force

Xavier’s arms burned, aching in his joints.

His laser dagger caught the serrated edge of Ethan’s blade for the sixth ti, and the impact shuddered through his wrist.

Sparks fanned across the narrow gap between them.

Ethan pressed forward again and again.

anwhile, Xavier deflected high, parried low, and deflected again.

Sothing was wrong.

He had trained under the Marshal himself, back in the Academy. He had sparred against Grayson before his abrupt retirent almost every ti they t.

Xavier knew what a fight to the death felt like.

But this wasn’t it.

Ethan had no ego in his swordwork. Just brandishing his saw-blade over and over, probing for the cut that would end it.

But he wasn’t really trying hard to hit him dead.

And Xavier was starting to suspect he was just toying with him.

The laser dagger was shorter, lighter—a sidearm, not a dueling weapon. The reach disadvantage alone should have finished Xavier inside the first exchange.

But the reduced weight let Xavier move faster, keeping him alive.

Why isn’t he pressing the advantage?

Xavier thought as the blade landed again against his dagger’s crossguard.

He could see the veins standing out on Ethan’s forearms. He couldn’t sll anything, no pheromones, therefore he was sure that the other was a Beta.

Then he saw the sweat beading on Ethan’s forehead.

So. He wasn’t as calm as he pretended.

Their eyes t across the locked blades.

Ethan’s expression was mild and even slightly apologetic.

Why?

Xavier pushed harder against the crossguard, angling to twist the saw-blade away. And that’s when he heard it—barely a breath, muttered through teeth clenched tight enough to whiten the jaw.

"Master, your plans are not easy to fulfill as they are easy to order."

The words were not ant for Xavier.

Before he could process them, the world turned upside down.

An invisible force slamd Xavier downward. His knees buckled, his spine pressed.

His shoulders were forced to et the ground as if an enormous hand had pressed flat against the top of his skull and shoved him to the ground.

The air left his lungs in a forced gasp. His laser dagger clattered from his grip, its glow dying against the ground.

Xavier’s face hit the dirt, a sharp mineral taste of crushed rock, moss, and soil filled his mouth.

"What—" He spat, straining against the pressure.

Every muscle in his body fought to rise, but he couldn’t do anything to fight it.

"What the hell was that?"

Ethan put away his saw-like blade, casually, almost bored. The weapon folded into a compact cylinder that disappeared into the interior of his jacket.

He then brushed the debris off his sleeves, smoothed his collar, and plopped down on the ground right next to Xavier.

He just sat down, cross-legged, like they were having a picnic in the middle of the night.

"Guess," Ethan said, lightly, his lips curled into sothing that wasn’t quite a smile, enjoying himself.

Xavier’s cheek was still pressed into the dirt. His golden eyes looked sideways to glare at Ethan.

Not too far away from them, Lieutenant Hawn saw his General, Xavier, go down.

He was about to quickly hurry over when a hand closed around his upper arm from behind.

The other’s fingers were digging in hard past the uniform fabric and into the muscle beneath, making him groan in pain.

Suddenly, Lt. Hawn spun over.

The officer behind him was Captain Wen. The face was the sa, cleanly shaven, with a military haircut and a small scar above the left eyebrow.

But the eye color was wrong.

It was bloody red.

The red-eyed Captain Wen smiled, crinkling the corners of those inhuman eyes.

His blade punched through Lt. Hawn’s shoulder before the Lieutenant could bring his pulse gun up with his shaky hands.

Lt. Hawn staggered backward, clutching the wound, curse that ripped out of him was less pain than horror.

"A zerg?!"

Red-eyed Captain Wen withdrew the blade with a wet sound. He didn’t even bother to wipe it as he turned to the nearest soldier.

There was a young corporal who was already raising his weapon in alarm.

Red-eyed Captain Wen struck so fast the motion blurred.

The corporal’s head left his body.

No scream. No dramatic arc of blood.

Just a head rolling into the ferns and a body standing upright for one second before it dropped to the ground motionless.

The red-eyed Captain Wen looked at the corpse as if he had checked off one thing on his list, done.

"Ugh," red-eyed Captain Wen said, rolling its shoulders as if shaking off a stiff jacket. "It was really hard to pretend."

The voice was Captain Wen’s, but there was sothing underneath it. It was as if two voices were layered on top of each other.

Lt. Hawn gripped his bleeding shoulder and squared his stance. His pulse was still in his right hand, the arm that wasn’t ruined.

"How long?" he asked.

The red-eyed officer tilted his head. The gesture was oddly birdlike. "Hmm, how many years has it been..."

The red-eyed Captain Wen paused like he was really thinking about the answer to his question.

His lips were moving slightly as if counting backward through mories that might have belonged to soone else.

"Ah, never mind." Red-eyed Captain Wen scratched his hair hard with his bloodied hands. "I couldn’t rember it myself."

Then Lt. Hawn heard a rustle in the undergrowth.

Lt. Hawn’s gaze snapped to the left, and a second figure erged from behind a shattered tree trunk.

Another officer—Lieutenant Park, supply corps.

He also had the sa red eyes.

Lt. Park didn’t look at Lt. Hawn. He looked at red-eyed Captain Wen, annoyed.

"Tell Ethan not to enjoy himself for so long. We need to stick to the plan."

Red-eyed Captain Wen scoffed, "Ethan has his own plans. Let him do what he wants."

Then sothing in its waist moved.

Inside the uniform, sothing pierced through a hole at the hip seam. Sothing thin with the color similar to that of a raw liver, glistening with a mucous sheen.

It was tapering to a point that ended in what might have been a mouth or might have been a sucker.

Overall, it looked like a tentacle. Now it was moving lazily, extending toward the headless corporal.

Then it found its head.

And ate it.