If someone had been able to see Brian’s face clearly, they would have understood instantly that something was wrong.
It was a mess of emotions, layered and tangled. Fear. Confusion. Panic. Even disbelief.
Not a single trace of anything positive.
But why was Brian like this?
The reason was simple.
Through the method of the figure clad in grey, Brian could see what the grey figure saw from afar. It was not perfect, but it was enough.
And what Brian saw at first almost made him lose himself to joy.
A powerful existence wrapped in grey.
Two terrifying Rank Four beings by his side.
And Michael just happened to be nearby.
For a brief moment, Brian’s heart nearly burst with satisfaction.
Finally.
He was finally going to see Michael erased from this world.
It was a shame he would not get to do it with his own hands, but Brian was not bothered by such details. Pride did not matter. Only the result mattered.
As long as Michael was gone, everything would return to how it was supposed to be.
He would be one of the brightest youths in Aurora again. He was already one, but for some reason Brian always got himself into a situation where he ended up being the stepping stone for Michael to either showcase his power or push his fame.
With Michael gone, any action he took again, he would be the one people whispered about.
The one the world praised.
L
That was what he believed.
That was what he wanted.
That was what he had been clinging to.
Brian watched with the kind of excitement that made his fingertips tremble.
Then everything went wrong.
So wrong that Brian’s mind refused to accept it at first.
The shock came like a hammer to the chest.
Why did Michael have so many Rank Three undead, and why were they able to actually pete with actual Rank Four supernaturals even if suppressed?
How was Michael able, or rather why did the current him have the strength to pete with a Rank Three powerhouse?
How were his undead so strong?
Why?
Why him?
Why always him?
And then the vision cut as the last thing Brian saw was Michael lunge.
Michael.
Michael, who had not even ascended to Rank Three, killing a strongman in that rank.
Fear took over Brian, and without thinking, even though his location was far away, he ran as fast as he could away from the Fifteenth Floor of Hell.
Brian’s speed carried him across the grey wastes like a streak of warped air.
Then, in the middle of that frantic sprint, his foot caught on a jagged ridge hidden beneath the ash.
It was not enough to hurt him at his stage, but it was enough to disrupt his rhythm.
His balance snapped for a fraction of a second, and that single mistake turned his momentum, pitching his body forward.
He slammed into the grey earth with a dull boom, skidding across the soil like a thrown weapon, carving a deep scar behind him.
His shoulder clipped a low hill next, and the impact caved it in.
Dust and dead ash erupted outward.
A crater formed where his body finally stopped.
For a moment, Brian lay there in the broken ground, chest rising and falling fast as the pause from everything calmed him down.
If he had been an ordinary human, that crash would have shattered bones.
But Brian was not ordinary, if he was not being pared to Michael Norman, that is.
Brian pushed himself up with a snarl, dust falling from his hair and coat.
Brian’s jaw tightened as a wave of embarrassment washed over him so hard it almost made him nauseous.
He had run. He had sprinted like prey out of fear.
Fear of Michael.
Just thinking about it made heat crawl up his neck.
What was he doing?
Why should he fear Michael?
He had three different classes, and their advantage was continuous from early to late stages.
If that damaged necromancer did not exist, he would be the most brilliant one.
Brian clenched his fists and stood fully, the ground beneath his boots cracking again as if reacting to his mood.
He looked back in the direction he had e from, eyes hard, breathing slower now.
In his mind, the last image remained vivid, Michael’s punch.
Michael, still not ascended, still at the peak of Rank Two, moving like someone who did not belong in the same category as everyone else.
And the punch.
That single, clean strike that ended a Rank Three powerhouse.
Brian’s lips twitched.
The fear was still there, buried under the surface like a thorn he could not remove, but now it was mixed with something else.
Anger.
Humiliation.
Jealousy.
Envy.
Greed.
A sharp, poisonous resentment that made his stomach twist.
He had been happy for only a moment.
Happy because he thought he would finally be free of Michael’s shadow.
Free of being pared. Free of being used as a stepping stone.
Ever since the college exams and he got famous as well, there was not a post he threw out that did not have ments about Michael.
In fact, some of his lost feeds were solely a gathering space for Michael fans.
No matter what Brian did, somehow, someway, he ended up in a situation where Michael benefited.
Michael grew.
Michael shone.
Michael took the spotlight.
Michael took what should have been Brian’s.
And now, even when someone else came to kill him, Michael still won.
Brian’s breathing steadied pletely.
He stepped out of the crater he had made, brushing grey dust from his sleeve, eyes cold and focused.
"It’s fine. He only has the lead now. It does not mean it will remain so forever. With my three classes, as long as I do well in all three of my class advancement quests, we’ll see who es out on top."
For this, Brian was quite confident. However, recalling Michael’s undead Legion, Brian could not help but lose a bit of that confidence again.
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