Primordial Awakening: They Targeted My Daughter, I Became The Butcher! Chapter 51: Primordial Nether Extinction Sword Art

But Amon simply laughed.

The sound was soft.

Yet it caused Dragonov’s heart to tighten.

Because he suddenly realized sothing.

The Butcher wasn’t evaluating whether he could destroy them.

He was evaluating how long it would take.

Amon folded the docunts.

The pages instantly vanished into his system space.

Then he looked toward the horizon.

The headquarters wasn’t particularly close.

Several thousand kiloters away.

Under normal circumstances, even an S-rank hunter would require days to reach it.

Unfortunately for them...

Close Yet So Far had already beco a God-rank ability.

Distance had beco little more than a joke.

Dragonov hesitated.

Then finally spoke.

"Do you need assistance?"

Amon glanced toward him briefly.

"No."

The response ca instantly.

Dragonov smiled bitterly.

He expected that answer.

Because deep down he knew the truth.

The governnt wasn’t strong enough to help.

Not anymore.

The Butcher had already surpassed them.

Amon took a step forward.

Then suddenly stopped.

His gaze shifted toward Dragonov.

A strange question entered his mind as he was worried about the safety of his wife and daughter.

He didn’t want them to be disturbed by the events about to transpire.

"Tell sothing."

Dragonov blinked.

"What is it?"

Amon’s voice remained calm.

"If an organization suddenly vanished overnight..."

"If every branch disappeared."

"If every leader died."

"If every mber was erased."

"What would happen?"

Dragonov froze.

The question sounded casual.

Almost harmless.

Yet the aning behind it made his scalp tingle.

After several seconds of silence, he finally answered.

"There would be chaos."

Amon nodded.

That was expected.

Dragonov continued.

"But eventually it would stabilize."

"Criminal organizations aren’t kingdoms."

"They survive because people fear them."

"If their leadership disappears, the rest collapse surprisingly quickly."

Amon smiled.

That was all he needed to hear.

Then the space around him began to distort.

Dragonov’s pupils contracted.

The distortion was unlike anything he had ever witnessed.

It wasn’t teleportation.

It wasn’t movent.

It was as though reality itself had been folded.

Amon stood there one mont.

The next instant he was gone.

There were no warnings, no fluctuations and no trace.

Dragonov remained frozen.

Several seconds passed.

Then several more.

Eventually he released a long breath.

"The Demon Infant Organization..."

His gaze shifted toward the distant horizon.

A complicated expression appeared on his face.

"...is finished."

...

anwhile.

Several thousand kiloters away.

Deep beneath a mountain range.

An enormous underground city stretched through the darkness.

Researchers moved through laboratories.

Ard hunters patrolled the streets.

Executives handled reports.

Assassins ca and went.

The headquarters remained as busy as ever.

Inside the highest chamber.

Three elderly n sat around a circular table.

Each radiated the pressure of an S-rank hunter.

Their expressions were solemn.

One of them pushed a docunt across the table.

"The Eastern Branch has requested additional personnel."

Another frowned.

"Denied."

"They’ve already lost two facilities this month."

The third elder sighed.

"The Righteous Guild is becoming more troubleso than expected."

Silence followed.

The thought of the righteous guild made them frown because they were always constantly tracking their branches and destroying it!

Almost every report involving them ended the sa way.

Dead mbers.

Destroyed facilities.

Missing assets.

And no clues.

No trails.

No weaknesses.

The organization had spent decades spreading its roots throughout the nation.

"Shouldn’t we elimina—"

Suddenly—

The conversation stopped.

All three elders froze, and a chill swept through their bodies.

Their instincts instantly began screaming.

Danger.

The oldest elder slowly rose from his seat, and his eyes narrowed faintly.

"What is that..."

The second elder stood as well.

His expression changed.

For the first ti in years...

Fear appeared.

Because he felt it too.

An indescribable pressure.

A pressure that wasn’t directed toward the chamber.

It was directed toward the entire world.

Far below.

Throughout the underground city.

Hunters stopped moving.

Researchers froze.

Children looked around in confusion.

Nobody understood why.

Yet every living being felt it.

A wave of killing intent that felt ancient, boundless and absolute.

The pressure spread through the headquarters like a tsunami.

One guard collapsed instantly.

Then another.

Then dozens more.

The elders’ hearts sank.

Whatever was coming...

It wasn’t human.

...

High above the mountain range.

A solitary figure stood atop the morning sky, illuminated by the sun which cast its warm, golden radiance upon him.

The cold wind howled around him.

His long black leather jacket fluttered violently behind him.

Moonlight illuminated the figure standing upon empty space.

A black sword rested in his hand.

And upon his face...

A cute cat mask.

Small whiskers.

Rounded eyes.

An almost comical appearance.

Anyone seeing it would think it belonged to a harmless prankster.

Unfortunately.

The darkness gathering around him told a completely different story.

Amon gazed downward.

His Divine Sense had already spread throughout the entire headquarters.

Every corridor.

Every laboratory.

Every hidden chamber.

Every mber.

Nothing escaped his perception.

This was a side ability he got from the SSS-rank danger sense.

For a mont, he simply observed.

Then his gaze beca thoughtful.

"The Ninth Form..."

A faint smile appeared beneath the mask.

Even he didn’t know how powerful it truly was.

After all...

He had never used it before.

Not once.

His fingers tightened around Winter Frost.

"I wonder."

The question was genuine.

How terrifying was the Ninth form of a Supre Divine Rank sword technique?

Amon slowly inhaled.

A long breath.

The world seed to quiet.

The winds weakened.

The clouds stopped moving.

Even the stars appeared to dim.

Then he exhaled.

And softly spoke.

"Ninth Form."

The mont those words left his mouth—

The world changed.

Far away.

Inside a hidden military bunker.

Several retired S-rank hunters abruptly rose from their seats.

"What..."

Their faces turned pale.

Elsewhere.

Deep within an ancient mountain monastery.

An SS-rank hunter who had remained in seclusion for decades suddenly opened his eyes.

His tea cup shattered.

His body trembled.

He stared toward the distant horizon.

"...Impossible."

anwhile.

Inside a classified governnt facility.

Mana detection artifacts exploded simultaneously.

Alarms scread.

Red lights flooded the room.

Every monitoring device crashed.

Researchers stared in horror.

The readings had exceeded the limits of asurent itself.

Back above the mountain range.

Darkness gathered behind Amon.

Not ordinary darkness.

Sothing older.

Sothing primordial.

The shadows of the world seed to answer a silent summons.

The darkness expanded.

Larger.

Higher.

Vaster.

Until it towered over the heavens themselves.

Then—

A silhouette erged.

An ancient phantom.

Its form shifted between existence and nonexistence.

No one could properly perceive it.

No one could understand it.

Yet every living being instinctively knew what it represented.

Death.

Not a creature.

Not a god.

Not a monster.

Death itself.

The skies darkened.

Reality trembled.

Space distorted.

Thousands of kiloters away, hunters collapsed to their knees.

Animals fled in terror.

Mana storms erupted.

The weak lost consciousness instantly.

Inside the headquarters.

Panic spread.

Researchers scread.

Hunters stumbled backward.

Children fainted.

The three S-rank elders nearly collapsed.

Their bodies shook uncontrollably.

Their breathing beca ragged.

Their minds were being crushed beneath an authority that far surpassed them.

Amon slowly raised Winter Frost.

No aura exploded.

No energy gathered.

No spectacle appeared.

Yet that only made the scene more terrifying.

Because it felt less like an attack.

And more like a judgnt.

A fate already decided.

A sentence already written.

Amon’s voice echoed softly.

"Primordial Nether Extinction Sword Art."

The sword descended.

One swing.

Silent.

Nothing happened.

For a brief mont—

Nothing at all.

Then reality cracked.