The monstrosity that was trying to break out of the gate was the mother Cerulean Cobra. Oliver was sure of it.
The thick, ivory white teeth that smashed the ground behind Fist King was its fang. The snake was too huge. So, it could barely put the fang through the gate to attack Fist King.
Still, a river of poison was squeezed out of the fang, drowning the bottom portion of the gate.
*Sizzle*
The extrely corrosive substance burned and dissolved the rock where it struck. Fortunately, the Mother Cerulean Cobra couldn’t see them, hence couldn’t target them with its long-range attacks.
And if it did, Oliver could imagine the pain he might feel just looking at the sizzling rocks, dissolving rocks.
Unlike normal people, his body would try to heal when he was injured. So, he would have to bear the acid-like poison-induced pain longer before he dies.
It was one of the worst ways to die, according to his opinion, ranked just below falling into molten tal or getting eaten by a Leviathan.
"Eh!" A cold shiver ran through his body just thinking about it.
anwhile, the Fist King, the middle-aged superhuman without a leg and an arm, walked to Oliver and Achara. His muscular body that towered above them, ca close and patted on their shoulders.
"I rember you guys. You were the one I saw during the mountain king incident, right?" He said with a cordial smile.
Cordial in a sense. With half his face covered in blood, he looked nacing.
Achara and Oliver nodded.
Imdiately, his smile widened.
"Great!" Then, he lifted the sack of gems to his shoulder, slung it back, and continued to speak. "Don’t worry. That thing will not co out. It’s too big, the gate is too small for its body to fit through."
Oliver was not really concerned about that at all.
Achara, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Ah! Yes." Achara rembered sothing and said. "Sir, Thunder Emperor and Mr Boulder are waiting for you inside." She pointed at the military tent.
The commotion had caused both of them to co out. They were currently looking at the gate with an amused expression.
"Would you like to go to the hospital before..."
"Not yet. These wounds are nothing." The Fist King shook his head and walked out of the crater.
No, it couldn’t be called walking. He was gliding across the ground, barely touching it.
Oliver followed the madman. Although the guy was injured, he was walking it off like it was nothing.
’Ah! Now I rember why I was once a fan of this guy.’ Oliver thought with a smile.
Among superhumans with endurance and durability-related abilities, the Fist King was always at the top. Although his ability was just an average body strengthening type, the madman had done terrifying feats with it. And the reason he could do so was the torturous training he did to evolve his ability to beco stronger.
Many tried to follow in his footsteps to beco the strongest, just like him, but few ever could. No sane person was stupid enough to do everything he did.
’If I really wanted to, I would be able to follow his training regin.’
Oliver was stupid and insane, a combination made in heaven to emulate that. So, he really might be able to.
—
It was almost ten pm.
The gate had opened during the early hours of evening, just around dusk, 7 pm or so.
Now, 3 hours have passed.
Although the battle was intense and it felt like an eternity, only three hours had passed.
Many people were injured and died during these three hours.
*Sigh*
Oliver sat on the elevated platform, behind a table with a microphone, and sighed. Fortunately, the microphone was off, so the hundreds of reporters crowding the open area near the gate, before the table, couldn’t hear it.
Currently, a thin old man next to Kumara was addressing the people, giving a detailed briefing about what had happened during the three hours, sitting behind the sa table Oliver sat. Next to them were Thunder Emperor, The Fist King.
Oliver disliked having to sit with this newly erged piece of trash and listen to his bullshit. He had agreed to participate in the press briefing, thinking it would be over soon, as it was supposed to be. But once the thin old weasel started, it extended in a totally unnecessary way.
’The damn fu...’
He wanted to curse at the man hogging the microphone, speaking vehently into it as if he was feeling the pain and suffering of all the people who died or were injured.
’He should have gone to a theatre if he wanted to perform.’ Oliver picked up the pen nearby and tightened his fist. The pen creaked under pressure.
The damned old weasel of a person who was speaking was the head of the city, Mayor Rampart.
’Full na-Theodore Rampart. Affiliation - Governnt. Job - Mayor. Does - ass kissing. Personality- Sycophant. Remark - Son of a b.’
Oliver thought, rembering his past. Mayor Rampart was one of his neses. He had killed the clown a few years into his revenge arc.
’The man is a puppet leader. He was just a tool used by the powerful, a mouthpiece to proliferate their propaganda. How else could a normal person be elected the Mayor of the city, an elected official with the authority to do almost anything in the city? Oliver scoffed at the pitiful display of care and concern.
The speech of the disgusting roach of the person was truly sickening. Oliver was almost at his wits’ end.
’...The gate break and the terror attacks that happened all across the city are an unforgivable sin. We will kill all the demons. We will eradicate them until all the people of this city...no...the entire world is safe...’
’...Insta heal terror attack resulted in the death of ten people...’
’...Near the gate, we lost forty...’
’...Another twenty died across multiple parts of the city...’
"In total, we lost seventy good n and won. It is an unprecedented tragedy."
"When you add in the Temp..." The Mayor was about to speak about the Tempus Cult incident, but he suddenly stopped, then he changed the words. "Ahmm...Temporary damage to the infrastructure, it all adds up to a colossal loss."
"Fuck." Oliver accidentally cursed aloud.
His voice was barely audible. None of the journalists present could hear him. But it was not the sa for the S-rank Heroes sitting with him at the table.
Oliver silently avoided their gaze while humming a tune under his breath.
’I should just kill the Mayor. He is a troubleso weakling.’ Oliver thought.
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