Unholy Player Chapter 193: Don’t Show Weakness

Adyr watched Kharom’s growing agitation, a trace of amusent flickering behind his cold gaze.

It was familiar—eerily so. A mory surfaced, sharp and vivid: a nearly identical confrontation at a dinner table, not too long ago, back on Earth. That ti, it had been Cannibal sitting across from him.

Different worlds, different contexts—but the patterns were the sa. Both n had once sat across from him, confident, reactive, emotionally brittle beneath a shell of power.

Cannibal had clawed his way up from nothing, surviving in a radiation-scarred wasteland where weakness ant death. He was soone who had never known structure, never been given a chance, always crushed by those above—until one day, power fell into his hands. He embraced it desperately, recklessly, trying to reshape his identity through domination. The result was power-drunk chaos, masked as strength.

Kharom was his opposite in background, yet identical in essence. Born into privilege, raised on the taste of control, he too had been shaped by unchecked influence. His corruption ca not from desperation, but from excess. Still, the damage was the sa: stunted emotional depth, warped interpersonal instincts, and an ego far larger than his actual capacity.

Adyr had long understood a truth that most failed to grasp: power doesn’t create character—it exposes it. And when soone rises too fast or is handed too much too early, the gaps in their foundation widen. What should have been tempered through hardship becos bloated with delusion.

People like Cannibal and Kharom were always the easiest to dismantle. Their minds ran on single tracks—linear, simplistic. They focused only on the outco, obsessed with winning, domination, and superiority. It was like watching a novice chess player who opens the ga already dreaming of checkmate.

But Adyr didn’t just play to win. He read every move, mapped every possibility, and understood the psychology behind each decision. His thinking was layered, strategic, and multi-dinsional. And when facing soone blinded by the finish line, all he had to do was shake the ground beneath their feet—emotionally, ntally—and they would unravel on their own.

They weren’t enemies. They were puzzles. And once you understood the pieces, breaking them was inevitable.

But unlike with Cannibal, Adyr didn’t intend to push Kharom to the point of collapse.

There was a crucial difference between the two.

Kharom, for all his emotional volatility and fractured personality, had sothing Cannibal never did—real backing. His grandfather, Sevrak, remained a significant threat. And that alone made recklessness unwise.

So, rather than escalate the tension any further, Adyr shifted his approach.

He set down his fork and knife, leaned back into the comfort of his chair, and fixed Kharom with a focused, deliberate gaze.

’’So, Lord Kharom, what business brings you here?’’

That single gesture—calm, composed, and purposeful—had a visible effect. The last threads of Kharom’s patience, which had been fraying fast, held together just a little longer.

The fact that Adyr was now giving him full attention—acknowledging him, engaging him—eased the tension in Kharom’s expression.

n like him couldn’t stand being dismissed. To be ignored was to be invalidated. And for those whose identity was built on perceived power, that was intolerable.

But now, with even a sliver of attention, Kharom could pretend he was still in control. That illusion, however thin, was enough to stabilize him, at least for the mont.

’’Hmph, I ca here to collect the paynt.’’

His arrogant tone had returned, and his pitch-black eyes shifted pervertedly toward Vesha.

The mont she caught his gaze, Vesha flinched, as if a current of electricity had shot through her. Orven Draven, seated beside her as both father and protector, clenched his jaw. Disbelief and anger flashed across his face. For a mont, he looked ready to object—to call this out for the nonsense it was—but he didn’t need to.

Adyr cut in before he could speak. ’’Paynt?’’

His voice was calm, his expression unchanged, still wearing that faint, unreadable smile—as if they were engaged in nothing more than idle conversation.

’’I thought your grandfather’s agreent was only valid if you managed to neutralize Colossith. Am I wrong?’’

Kharom let out a low chuckle. ’’That’s true. And when I arrived, I couldn’t see Colossith anywhere. So it ans the deal still stands, doesn’t it?’’

His implication was clear. The original agreent had stated that Sevrak would support the Velari practitioners during the Colossith assault, aiding them in repelling the threat. In return, if they succeeded in neutralizing the Rank 4 Spark, Sevrak would be granted the right to claim it. Additionally, regardless of the outco, they had demanded Vesha as part of the paynt.

Now, seeing that Colossith had indeed been repelled, Kharom assud the conditions were t and had co to collect what he believed was owed.

Of course, the deal had already fallen apart. Sevrak had never arrived on ti, never provided the promised support, and had played no part in repelling the Rank 4 Spark. But to Kharom, that detail didn’t matter.

’’Hmm, you’re right,’’ Adyr said thoughtfully, as if acknowledging the logic behind Kharom’s words.

’’Lord,’’ Orven stood up abruptly, unable to contain himself. His voice ca out in a burst, his eyes wide with disbelief.

But Adyr raised a hand—calm and deliberate—and Orven, realizing his outburst, sat back down without another word.

’’You are right in that you have every right to collect your promised prize. But the terms of the deal have changed. ’’ His voice remained composed, but as he leaned forward in his chair, his posture shifted—his presence sharpened. The slight smile on his face twisted into sothing darker, sothing unnatural.

’’She now belongs to . And I’m not agreeing to give her to you.’’

There was no need to shout. The threat was unmistakable. It laced his tone, hardened his gaze, and sank into the room like poison.

Everyone felt it. A sudden chill swept through the space, as if the air itself had turned against them.

The maids froze where they stood. Even though the bloodlust wasn’t directed at them, their bodies reacted instinctively. A tremor ran through their limbs, heartbeats accelerating without cause.

Orven and Vesha weren’t spared either. A cold tension coiled inside them, drying their mouths and sending a faint numbness to their fingertips.

Even the candles on the table flickered violently, as though caught in an invisible gust. His presence wasn’t just oppressive—it was bleeding into reality, manifesting like a storm within the room.

Even Adyr was montarily surprised by the effect of his newly gained Presence ability, as it was almost affecting physical things as well.

Kharom’s expression tightened. His brow furrowed, and his posture straightened, shifting into a cautious stance. ’’What do you an? ’’

The words hissed through clenched teeth, dripping with venom.

Adyr was a Rank 2 practitioner just like him. Kharom didn’t believe he would lose in a fight. And yet, sowhere deep within, instinct whispered that stepping forward would be a mistake. That whisper infuriated him.

’’What I an is... sorry, but there’s nothing here for you to take. ’’ With that final statent, Adyr made his stance unmistakably clear.

A stranger coming to his place and demanding sothing that belonged to him as if it were nothing? That was utter bullshit.

Adyr was wise enough to avoid conflict with soone like Sevrak, but that didn’t an every enemy could see his caution as weakness and walk all over him.