"Hoo—"
Floating at an altitude of 11,000 ters, Richard gently exhaled. The breath had just left his body by a few centiters before it instantly froze into ice crystals, clattering down into a sea of flas below.
In Richard’s field of vision, nearly a hundred miniature Magic Tracking Missiles had exploded, generating flas that continuously rose, completely engulfing the figures of the four people including Cheka.
This should have settled things... Richard thought with a slight raise of his eyebrow. In his view, even if the miniature Magic Tracking Missiles hadn’t killed the four, they should have lost the majority of their combat ability and would be unable to track him anymore—after all, they were already seriously injured before they ascended.
This should allow for a safe departure.
Richard’s expression relaxed slightly as he watched the flas below drift slowly toward the ground like a Fire Cloud, and seeing no sign of the four for a long ti, he turned to leave.
Yet just as he turned, his peripheral vision caught sothing, halting his movent, and his eyes widened slightly.
He saw a figure abruptly burst out of the flas, approaching him rapidly—it was Cheka.
At this mont, Cheka looked extrely miserable, comparable to his initial descent from Heaven. His entire clothing was burnt away, and his skin was charred, with a face of indistinct flesh and blood. His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, his lips cracked, blood oozing from his tightly clenched teeth, resembling a demon climbing out from hell.
Due to inhaling the scorching air, Cheka’s throat was burned and could only produce vague sounds. He extended a hand with skin cracked and charred, with blood seeping from the fissures. Subsequently, a mass of granulation tissue began to grow, attempting to heal—it was a special ability of the Heaven body, but now very weak and unable to change the situation.
Richard could see that in this mont, Cheka’s eyes were filled with imnse hatred and determination, almost with a mindset of mutual destruction, squeezing the last ounce of strength to dash toward him, intending to attack.
But, considering the opponent’s current state, even if he really manages to attack, it should pose little threat to him, at most like a slap in the face.
So, is this the opponent’s last stubbornness... Richard curled his lips, slightly raised his right hand, and aid the Destructive Gloves he wore at the charging Cheka, preparing to end him completely.
But just before activating the Destructive Gloves, a thought occurred. Realizing the insufficient Free Energy Elents in his Magic Origin, he turned his hand, put away the Destructive Gloves, and instead took out the long-unused One-Hit Kill Wand.
Holding the blood-red One-Hit Kill Wand in his hand, Richard aid at the rapidly approaching Cheka. Free Energy Elents surged from his Magic Origin, followed by a beam of bloody light shooting out, hitting Cheka’s body.
"Bang!"
A fist-sized blood hole exploded in Cheka’s chest, flesh flying, completely destroying the internal organs within the chest cavity.
Cheka suffered this severe injury, his eyes widened abruptly, his whole body trembled, and he paused in the air. Then his eyes slowly closed, and his body gradually fell downward.
Dead?
Should be...
Richard silently glanced back and began to turn around.
Before his body fully turned, Cheka, who was falling, suddenly opened his eyes, and an extrely strong mana fluctuation burst from his body, creating a trail of afterimages as he lunged again. His eyes widened until they almost tore apart, filled with both anger and cunning.
Richard sensed Cheka’s sneak attack, and golden light rapidly erged on the surface of his body as the Achilles Armor covered him completely for defense.
But it seed useless as Cheka pounced over, grabbing Richard’s left arm and biting down hard. His teeth, like nails, pierced through the defense of the Achilles Armor and sank into the flesh.
Richard felt a sharp pain, his eyebrow shot up, and he punched Cheka’s head hard with his right fist, almost breaking his neck, sending him flying.
"Hahaha!"
Flying away Cheka, showing no sign of defeat, reached out to correct his crooked neck and instead let out a victory laugh.
"Hahaha, kid, you’re done." Cheka, with blood seeping from his teeth, looked over and said loudly, "You think you can really escape? Impossible! That bite just now, although didn’t give you any deadly injury, but it did place a Curse from the Prediction class on you.
As long as I’m alive, no matter how far you run, I’ll sense you and find a way to bring the Truth Society to find and kill you."
Upon hearing this, Richard frowned and looked at where Cheka had bitten. He saw the wound with rolled flesh and four small round holes that looked like snake bites. Surrounding the holes, dark red lines quickly ford on the skin surface, spreading over the entire arm like an abstract vine pattern, very eerie.
From this, Cheka’s words seed very likely to be true.
So then...
Richard looked at Cheka with a trace of murderous intent, turned his hand again, and put the Destructive Gloves back on his right hand.
He hadn’t used them earlier to save energy, which led to this mistake. It’s not too late to nd the fold after the sheep have been lost. Now he would make up for it doubly.
With this thought, Richard prepared to take action, and then narrowed his eyes.
He saw that Cheka seed to have anticipated this and was retreating to a distance. Simultaneously, with a tearing sound, a pair of feathered wings erged from his back. The wings flapped swiftly, and in no ti, he was hundreds of ters away, moving irregularly to avoid being locked on.
"You’re probably itching to kill now, aren’t you, kid!" Cheka’s voice ca, with a hint of mockery and enticent in it, "Yes, you must want to kill . Because only by killing can the Curse on you be lifted, and you can escape danger; otherwise, you’ll be hunted by the Truth Society for the rest of your life.
However, killing isn’t easy, just like earlier when the rest and I were chasing you—the situation has reversed now, you have to catch first, then attack with your weird glove to lock , only then can you achieve your goal. If you really want to do that, then follow back to Pompeii on the ground, where I’ll be waiting with the others for you! Waiting for you, hahaha!"
Saying this, Cheka continued flapping his wings, maintaining the irregular swaying while rapidly descending towards Pompeii.
Richard watched, realizing he couldn’t lock on, and slowly lowered his raised right hand, his expression sinking as well.
He now understood Cheka’s plan, which was to use all ans to drag him to Pompeii, then find a chance to kill him.
After all, Pompeii was the opponent’s ho ground, where they could exert the greatest power.
To achieve this, the opponent continuously organized defenses to block him, and when they couldn’t block him anymore, they devised a ans to Curse him.
Should he return to Pompeii, in order to kill the opponent and remove the Curse, the opponent would reassemble defenses to confront him, replaying past scenarios.
Thus, he would undoubtedly fall into their trap.
But if he ignored it, then just turned and left, the issue of the Curse indeed seed difficult to handle.
Frankly speaking, although he was certain that the Curse affected him, he wasn’t sure if its effect was as Cheka described.
Only such things couldn’t be risked, he couldn’t afford the risk of being wrong.
Then what to do...
Richard gazed down at the ground, his expression as somber as water.
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