The ghastly green lamplight flickered behind him, casting his face in an excessively youthful glow.
The smoothness of that skin wasn’t due to ticulous care but rather resembled a corpse soaked in cold water for too long, swollen to the limit, smoothing out all wrinkles.
Gazes from around the round table, one after another, fell on Balk.
The Viper Saunders squinted, twirling the dagger swiftly between his fingers, the blade leaving a remnant shadow under the ghastly green light.
As a High-tier Extraordinary Knight, he could clearly perceive the life force inside that old thing across from him, surging in a way that defied common sense.
That wasn’t the restoration of a dead tree coming to life. It seed more like sothing foreign had forcibly filled his skin.
Saunders licked his dry lips, his voice cold and slimy: "Hey, old Balk.
Looks like you not only found a weapon against the iron ships but also snagged a bucket of succubus bathwater?"
He laughed unreservedly, his gaze like a knife scraping across Balk’s face.
"This skin is so tender... I almost want to peel it off entirely to make myself a pair of new gloves."
As his words ended, a few low grunts of laughter echoed in the conference hall, and the killing intent flowed unabashedly in the air.
Balk seed completely unaware of the malicious gazes.
He picked up a silver fork, the tines piercing into a piece of still slightly quivering raw viscera on the plate.
Dark red juice dripped along the shining fork tines, falling onto the white napkin like a blooming blood flower.
He put the piece into his mouth, his jaw barely opening, his Adam’s apple moving up and down with a slick swallowing sound.
"Gulp."
That was the sound of a mollusk sliding down the esophagus, swallowed whole.
Then he looked up, revealing that constant smile that hadn’t even changed at the corners.
"A blessing from the deep sea, Saunders." His voice carried a murky echo, "As long as you all behave, everyone can... transform."
As those words fell, the air seed to freeze instantly.
Suddenly, Kane the Bone Crusher stood up abruptly.
As a Half-Step Peak Knight who had road this sea for thirty years, his patience had reached its limit.
He was never good at listening to riddles, nor could he tolerate being treated like a fool.
"Enough!" This roar was like a thunderbolt.
The ground beneath his feet let out a dull groan, spiderweb cracks spreading crazily from the center beneath his boot.
The earth-colored Fighting Energy erupted violently from his body, like a volcano suppressed for too long.
That was pure strength-type Fighting Energy, thick, brutal, with enough power to crush rocks, filling the entire conference hall in an instant.
He kicked at the edge of the round table.
"Boom——!"
The heavy solid round table was directly overturned.
Sauce, entrails, and grease splashed through the air, spattering against the stone walls and lamp stands with a crackling sound, causing the ghastly green firelight to flicker violently.
Kane threw his head back and roared, his voice exploding beneath the do, hurting eardrums with piercing pain: "To hell with your transformation!! I ca all this way, not to see your wax-painted dead face!"
He stepped forward, raising his massive fist high.
Fighting Energy was forcefully compressed in front of his fist, squeezing the air into an ear-piercing boom.
This punch gathered all his life’s power, even an armored rhinoceros would be smashed into pulp.
"Hand it over! Or I’ll crush your faux youth head!!"
The fist swung down.
The wind pressure was like an invisible battering ram, crashing toward the main seat.
Yet Balk did not dodge, not even blinking that thin layer of eyelid.
That overly young face still wore a perfect and stiff smile, as if the coming iron fist was nothing more than a trivial breeze.
Just as the punch was about to touch his nose.
He simply raised his swollen left hand, which had been hidden in his sleeve.
Boom——!
Fist and palm collided.
A wave exploded in the confined conference hall, like compressed thunder.
The ghastly green lamp flas were instantly stretched into twisted lines, the surrounding decaying tapestries unable to withstand the impact, ripping apart, mold stains and stone chips scattering like torrential rain.
But Kane’s fist, which carried the power of a Half-Step Peak Knight and could smash a city gate, stopped.
Stopped an inch from Balk’s swollen left palm, as if hitting an invisible wall.
Balk’s arm was chillingly steady, with not even a muscle twitch.
The air compressed forcibly between them, releasing a low moan.
In the turbulent currents stirred by the collision shock, the wide captain’s tricorne on Balk’s head was entirely blown off.
The hat tumbled a few tis through the air, lost direction, and fell with a "clap" into a dark corner.
Kane was stunned for a mont, and in a life-or-death struggle, that mont was fatal.
In the conference hall, deathly silence descended.
All eyes involuntarily lifted, staring fixedly at the top of Balk’s exposed head.
There was no hair, not even... any scalp.
The upper part of his skull seed to be neatly cut off by so precise alchemical instrunt, forming an open bone bowl.
And within that hollow bone bowl, a pink, pulsing soft-bodied creature resided.
It was semi-transparent, moist, shimring with a sort of sickly greasy luster.
Like a giant mutated brain exposed to the air, or a soft-bodied octopus forcibly cramd into the cranium.
Countless tiny, semi-transparent tendrils extended from its edges, like plant roots, deeply embedded into Balk’s cerebral cortex, even penetrating the cranial base, entering behind the eyeballs.
With every breath, the mass of flesh lightly contracted, emitting a viscous yet clear moist sound.
"Squish, squish."
Rosa gasped sharply, her stomach churning, acidic bile rushing to her throat.
That was no miracle of rejuvenation. It was live parasitism.
This body, known as Balk, was just a carefully maintained skin, a vessel maintaining basic functions... a fresh culture dish.
Kane, being the closest, could even sll the sweet tallic scent emanating from the mass of flesh, noticing every twitch of its microvessels.
In an instant, the rage in the brigand’s eyes was completely drained, leaving only the most primal fear.
Balk tilted his head slightly. The movent was a bit stiff, causing the mass of flesh atop to wobble slightly.
"Oh dear..." His voice rang out, carrying a hint of feigned regret: "The hat fell, and I’m untidy before the guests... How impolite."
Before he finished speaking, the fingers on the left hand gripping Kane’s fist suddenly tightened.
"Crack!"
Without any warning, a teeth-grinding shattering sound erupted.
Kane’s proud Fighting Energy armor shattered like fragile glass.
Imdiately after, his fist, that iron fist honed over thirty years, was crushed like a rotten tomato within Balk’s palm.
"Aaaah——!!"
The shrill scream had just burst from his throat before it abruptly stopped.
Because Balk’s right hand moved as fast as a red lightning bolt, clamping onto Kane’s screaming face, fingers deeply embedding into his facial bones.
"Too noisy." Balk smiled, fingers gently closing.
"Squish!"
Like cracking a ripe waterlon, red and white matter sprayed out instantly.
Thick blood splashed onto Balk’s face, also onto the pink parasitic brain atop his head.
The previously sluggish soft creature vibrated excitedly upon contact with the hot blood.
Countless tiny tendrils danced frantically, greedily sucking up the nutrients that splattered onto it.
The moist blood flowed along the tendrils, making the creature appear even more vibrant, glowing with fullness, even emitting pleased "squelching" sounds.
In that nauseating sucking sound.
The headless corpse twitched twice, then collapsed weakly at Balk’s feet.
In the hall, silence reigned, as still as death.
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