"This seems to be a great view," Vega said as she stared ahead, where two figures were locked in combat. Blurred silhouettes filled the air as various abilities tore into existence, each movent leaving afterimages that danced across the battlefield. The clash of their energies rippled upward, reflecting across the vast arena like waves upon still water.
"The seats seem to have a holographic function, in case you don’t want to follow the battle with your naked eyes," Kingsley added. He tapped the armrest of his seat, triggering a faint hum. A hologram materialized before him, sharp, seamless, and incredibly detailed, projecting the ongoing fight as though it were happening rely inches from their faces.
"It seems they are considering weaker spectators who can’t keep up with the fighters’ speed," Anthony remarked. He mirrored Kingsley’s action, tapping the armrest. The sa hologram appeared before him, perfectly synced with Kingsley’s but of little interest to him.
The man’s earlier insult still drifted through the air, yet it lingered unacknowledged. Anthony, Vega, and Kingsley continued their conversation as though they had not heard him at all. Their discussion about the hologram was deliberate, an intentional dismissal ant to gnaw at the pride of the silver-haired man.
In truth, none of them needed the projection; those battling below moved like sluggish shadows in their perception. Their senses operated on a different plane entirely. The hologram was rely a prop in their calculated silence.
Although they genuinely did not care about the silver-haired man, Vega could not resist stirring a little trouble. They sat just a row behind him, close enough for their voices to irritate him, yet far enough to maintain a subtle air of disregard. The silver-haired man’s rigid posture showed that he heard them, but his pride would not allow him to turn back.
Abruptly, his patience snapped.
His silver eyes shifted toward one of the humans kneeling beside him, a man whose body trembled under the lingering pressure. "You," the silver-haired figure spoke coldly. "Drag the three of them to . And I an literally, make sure their skin peels against the floor. If you fail, I’ll do it to you instead."
The kneeling human swallowed hard. The crushing presence weighing on him vanished in an instant, granting him control over his limbs once more. He staggered slightly as he stood, wiping the blood that dripped from his nose and eyes. His black irises burned, not with hatred for the silver-haired man, but with a warped anger directed at Anthony, Vega, and Kingsley.
In his mind, they were the cause of his suffering. If only they had obeyed, he believed, he and the others wouldn’t have been forced to kneel under the unbearable pressure. He took several steps forward, his boots scraping against the stone floor as he approached the row where Anthony and his companions sat, unbothered.
The instant he reached them, Vega’s presence shifted, barely, subtly, yet catastrophically for the human. A wave of pressure slamd into the man’s shoulders like a titan’s fist. His vision blurred. His knees buckled. He collapsed faster than any speed he had ever achieved willingly, slamming onto the floor with a sickening crack. Pain tore through his kneecaps, but he clenched his teeth. To him, it was rely agony, his kneecaps could be healed later with a potion.
The silver-haired man clicked his tongue sharply as he sensed the utter lack of resistance. His frown deepened, etched with contempt. "Useless," he spat.
Finally, he turned his body fully, his silver eyes locking onto Anthony, Vega, and Kingsley. His presence writhed angrily, but none of them flinched. Anthony’s sky-blue eyes shifted toward him at last. It seed silence would not suffice anymore. eting the man’s gaze, Anthony spoke in a flat, almost bored tone: "Crawl towards ."
The words struck the silver-haired man like a hamr to the soul.
A violent force crashed into his consciousness before he could even process what had happened. His body jerked. His muscles twisted. His knees slipped from the seat, hitting the floor with a dull thud. His eyes widened in horror as he realized he had completely lost control of his limbs.
His body began moving, slowly, inevitably.
One knee scraped forward. Then the other. And again.
And again.
His skin peeled against the ground, tearing open in raw streaks of red. Every scrape echoed the humiliation he had intended to inflict on Anthony, Vega and Kingsley re monts ago. His presence erupted violently, his mana surging outward in a desperate attempt to regain control, but nothing happened. His body remained loyal only to Anthony’s command.
The dread that washed over him was suffocating, heavier than anything he had felt in his entire life.
Before long, he arrived directly before Anthony. His silver eyes lifted, trembling, eting the abyssal calm of Anthony’s gaze, eyes that seed capable of devouring anything and everything that dared stand before them.
"How does your pride and ego feel," Anthony asked quietly, "after being made to crawl by a human?"
Anthony had not touched the man’s mind, only his body. He wanted the man to feel every ounce of humiliation, fear, and hopelessness.
The silver-haired man swallowed hard. He tried to speak, but no sound left his throat. His pride had shattered entirely, replaced with a single burning instinct: survival. Pride ant nothing in the face of overwhelming power. If pride could stand as power, then Dragons and Titans would rule the universe without opposition.
Seeing the man’s inability to respond, Anthony slowly lifted a hand and placed it atop the silver-haired man’s head. He intended to erase him from existence. Top race or not, it was irrelevant to Anthony. He had killed stronger.
But before he could act, space twisted beside him. A hand shot forward, reaching to clamp down on Anthony’s wrist, but it stopped instantly, suspended in place, held captive by Infinity.
"Please... forgive him," a voice said softly from the side.
Anthony’s eyes shifted toward the owner of the hand. He did not know her na, but he recognized her, he had seen her fight during the Starborn Tournant. She possessed a calm, asured expression, yet tension lingered behind her eyes.
She, in turn, recognized Anthony instantly. How could she not? His presence during the tournant had left a mark on literally all..
Her gaze drifted to the silver-haired man kneeling before Anthony. She had warned her teammates specifically to avoid causing trouble with the humans. Yet he had done the exact opposite. She did not need to ask what had happened, one glance at the unconscious humans who had collapsed earlier and those who were still kneeling told the entire story.
But recognition did not guarantee leniency, Anthony tightened his fingers into a fist. A wet crunch split the air, bones shattering, flesh collapsing inward. Blood sprayed out in a brief arc before the lifeless body slumped to the ground.
"Because you said ’please,’ I will allow you to take back the corpse," Anthony said calmly, without sparing her a second glance.
"Thank you," she replied, her expression unchanged.
What else could she do? Challenge Anthony? That would be nothing short of suicide. She had expected that Anthony might not forgive her teammate, but at the very least, she had successfully preserved the body.
Whether the older-generation delegates accompanying her would seek vengeance for the silver-haired man no longer concerned her. She had warned him. He had ignored her. He had sought death, and death had embraced him.
Silently, she bent down, retrieved the corpse, and stored it within her spatial ring. After a brief nod toward Anthony, she turned and walked away, leaving only the lingering echoes of her footsteps and the tallic scent of blood behind.
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