"Look around you... Those things you’re seeing are very lethal. They’re basically walking bombs. At my command, they’ll do as instructed and everything you think you have will beco worthless. You’ll be gone, your na forgotten forever. So, if you love yourself, co open the gate."
"Impossible."
That was all they could say as tiny tallic insects ca from nowhere, creeping on the furniture, whirring softly as if threatening them.
Syril had taken advantage of their mont of confusion and fright to summon his beetles, secretly deploying them to finalize his move.
The beetles crawled in, and it wasn’t long till Syril could hear all they were saying and entertain himself with their dreadful reaction.
Of course, the chabeetles were no walking bombs, couldn’t blow up as Syril had lied, but they did their job again.
He knew they couldn’t confirm what he said, he knew fear had seized them, so no doubt, his trick would work.
And it did.
"First, our nas... He called our full nas. He knows our residence. He... Now, he infiltrated our house. He finished us yesterday... His strength, his speed, his stamina... Just who is he?!"
"We really touched the wrong one."
Finn didn’t stop murmuring, didn’t stop cowering. Everything was absurd to fathom. The young figure standing out was one he was already picturing in high places.
’Young Demon,’ the na echoed in his head, shaking him to the core.
In short, Finn was long gone.
If fear had another na, it’d be Finn!
"No way, he’s bluffing! If he’s that powerful, why can’t he co in?!" Again, Spencer tried to confront the fears, tried to summon hope for himself and his partner.
It was futile.
It is always the young ones, eh? Perhaps he wasn’t very knowledgeable to know they were playing with soone beyond their level? Or Sir Bravado wasn’t much on the receiving end?
Syril intently directed a chabeetle towards the Wind Manipulator, leading it to be dangerously close to the adult.
Spencer’s reaction was instant. He flinched and staggered, almost falling.
"I only want to talk." Syril said again, this ti, his voice was cold, very cold. As if he was running out of patience.
Finn noticed and imdiately jumped to do the unthinkable.
"Go and open the gate!" Finn commanded.
"What?! No! He’s... No! We’ll be dood!" Spencer stamred, trying to reason with his partner.
"Now!"
"I... I... Fuck! Why ?!" He lanted as he dashed out.
They could have opened from inside, but who would do such in this kind of predicant?
As Finn watched Spencer’s back disappear from sight, he couldn’t help but mutter: "We’re already dood. We played with fire, and now it is going to burn us."
It took him considerable seconds before he unlocked the gate, his hands trembling as if he was handling the hottest substance.
Finally, after stretched seconds of fidgeting, the gate slid open and he was brought face to face with the ’Young Demon.’
Syril was leaning on the wall laxly, his arms thrown behind him, whistling carefreely.
He was maintaining that poise and perception of ’confident,’ ’strong,’ and ’absurdly powerful.’
It worked effortlessly.
’He’s not here with anyone? He’s that confident in his prowess?’ Spencer thought as he tried looking for a hidden presence. ’He did all of those by himself?
When he couldn’t find any, his eyes dilated to unimaginable widths. Fear and sothing bordering the line of respect captured his spine, pushing beads of sweat outta his forehead.
"Good... Go-good day, sir. I... We... Um, I an you’re welco, sir." Spencer stamred.
Syril almost laughed, but he maintained his rigid expression.
"After you," he simply responded.
Spencer obliged without further words, leading the young man to the edifice.
Needless to say, he felt uneasy.
Having his back turned on soone they deed so powerful was too much for him to bear. He constantly looked back, checking if Syril would suddenly decide to change his mind and attack him from behind.
Syril? He was enjoying every mont, but kept his face straight.
"Why don’t you take the front, master? Let guide you, sir." Spencer tried, smiling wryly as his own fluid trickled down his face.
’Oh, wow. I’m suddenly a master and a sir?’ Isn’t this too good of a show?’ Syril thought amusingly before he responded.
"This is your house, isn’t it? Lead the way. I’m following," Syril finished with a smirk.
’Aren’t you enjoying it, little brat?! Look at you!’ Raja comnted from his seat, silently enjoying the show.
’Oh, this isn’t over. Keep watching,’ he replied to his companion.
Syril noted everything, every goddamn luxury gotten from poor people’s sweat.
Was it the fleet of cars?
Flying cars?
The perfectly trimd flower garden?
The luxurious water fountain?
Or the expensive building itself?!
"Interesting," Syril mumbled, taking a quick sweep of the villa’s entailnt.
Spencer’s blood froze, becoming rigid at the building’s door.
"Sothing wrong?" Syril asked softly, feigning innocence.
"He- ? I an... Nothing," Spencer stuttered again, beads of sweat forming on his face.
"The door, please." He courteously requested.
"Right away, boss!"
Spencer grabbed the knob with his greasy palm, making a ss of himself.
He pulled and pushed the knob, but the door didn’t budge, it didn’t open because every ti his wet hands laced it, they slipped off.
Syril arched his eyebrow, lifting up as if confused.
"Sorry, boss! It’s really hot these days," Spencer laughed nervously before rubbing em hands on his clothes.
’Hot indeed.’ Syril smirked.
Finally, after what seed like a three hour journey in hell, Spencer had successfully taken Syril in, pushing the extravagant door open before gesturing to enter.
Syril stepped in like a boss, confidence worn like a second skin.
You would expect him to et the adult Bone Manipulator sitting fidgetingly, eyes heavily resting on the teen...
But another scene was painted before Syril.
Finn was on his knees, face down, confidence long stripped, bravado long dissipated, poise long faded.
There was a man, an adult, who had quite an interesting ability and had also leveled considerably, brought down to nothing...
In his own house!
"Young Demon... I’m sorry... I ant Master," Finn started, speaking veneratively with his face down, as if worshipping an idol.
His voice had a strange tinge that made one blink twice. It was weird, like a combination of respect and fear into a singular tone.
Syril was taken aback the least, quite surprised by what was playing before him. He did expect them to be frightened, hopeless, and helpless, but this... It was overboard.
Spencer didn’t waste ti... Seeing his own partner who was superior in almost all departnts falling to his knees and conceding this quickly triggered sothing in him.
He imitated Finn, falling stiffly like the latter.
If apology and humility could save them, they would take the chance.
Finn continued.
"Master, I am sorry. I didn’t know... I didn’t know I was playing with fire. I didn’t know I stepped on a beast’s tail. I didn’t know I ssed with one of the big guns. Please, forgive my impertinence. Forgive my wrongs, forgive for yesterday’s mistake. Please... Please, sir."
’Raja, you’re seeing this?’
’Of course, stupid! You started this, finish it!’ Raja ended with a mocking laughter.
Silence. No words.
Syril slowly moved.
They couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read his expression. They could only follow the clicks of his footsteps.
He carefully treaded to a sofa, finding the softness comforting his masculine ass.
Then he began his scrutiny.
Every angle, every corner, and every object his eyes fell on, they only scread one thing: ’Luxury.’
Maybe not over the top luxury, not the kind you’d find at Amy’s or Amanda’s, but it was definitely noteworthy.
A bit over average, I’d say.
Syril kept eyeing like that, even using his skill to check so objects.
*Scan.*
[Object: Painting.]
[Details: A geotric abstract art created using Van Gogh’s style.]
[Price: $10,000.]
Syril smiled wryly and moved on.
After two minutes of scanning and noting, his eyes fell back on the kneeling figures.
Then, he spoke.
"Please, raise your head and look at ."
They obliged instantaneously, their bodies moving without thinking.
"Good."
"Now, tell . How long... How long have you been terrorizing and taking from the innocents ?"
"I...We..." He muttered and sighed heavily before answering. "Seven years, my lord."
"Se...Seven?!" Syril shook unbelievably on his seat.
The duo could only whimper as they groveled.
"Do I even need to ask why you’ve been doing it?! You were just too lazy to work!"
"That’s right, my Lord." They said synchronically, declaring dejectedly as if planned.
It wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. At this point, they knew they couldn’t do much, so they individually decided to answer honestly and beg for rcy.
"Very well then. I suppose you know you ought to be punished for your offenses?"
Their blood froze imdiately, their bodies becoming rigid from the threat delivered in the simplest way.
They remained speechless for long seconds, and Syril didn’t bother to ntion anything, didn’t bother to continue.
He allowed the words weigh on them.
He let them know they weren’t going to be off the hook easily.
If they were thinking about slipping away, he already clarified that, he made his intentions clear.
What would they do?
Beg until he changed his mind?
Fight till their last breath because they couldn’t give up easily?
Or just accept the punishnt without questioning?
But one question is hovering in the air, isn’t it?
What exactly would the punishnt be?
Or maybe it’s two questions...
Why was Syril there?
————~~~~~————~~~~~———
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