NOVPUB
Chapter 56: The Strong Eat!
"But pretty things like you three," Damon gestured with his pipe wrench, "usually have other valuables worth... acquiring."
The wind whispered with a faint shriek as tension in the small clearing rose to an almost unbearable level.
Daniel sighed internally. So much for a quiet warning. This was definitely going to get messy.
Damon Cruz’s words hung in the air, heavy and cold, like the damp moss under their feet.
The wind, which had been a gentle whisper through the obsidian trees, now seemed to shriek with a bit more urgency, as if warning them of the coming storm.
The skinny one, Marcus, giggled, a nasty, high-pitched sound that made Daniel’s skin crawl. It wasn’t just the sound itself, but the way Marcus’s eyes gleamed with mean-spirited delight, as if he took genuine pleasure in their discomfort.
There was something unhinged about that laugh, something that hinted at cruelty lurking just beneath the surface.
He twirled his rusty vibro-knife, his shifty eyes gleaming with a hungry light.
"Heh, listen to the Academy kid," Marcus sneered, pointing his knife at Daniel.
"Thinks a few polite words will make us turn tail and run. You city boys really don’t get how things work out here in the real world, do ya?"
Damon let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound like rocks grinding together. "The real world, little brother," he said, his voice a low rumble.
It teaches you one very important lesson: the strong eat, and the weak get eaten. We learned that lesson the hard way, back in the cages before they shoved us through that fancy Stargate of yours.
Started with nothing, no fancy talents, no shiny gear, no instructor to direct us, no map to guide us.
But you know what? We learned. We learned how to take what we wanted, no matter the cost."
He hefted his heavy pipe wrench, its metal surface scarred and stained. The ground trembled slightly with the movement.
Ayra Sand, who had been watching this exchange with a mixture of disgust and barely suppressed fury, finally spoke. Her voice was dangerously calm.
"So, you’re admitting you’re just common thugs, preying on those weaker than yourselves? That’s your grand survival strategy? So pathetic."
The wind seemed to swirl around her, picking up loose leaves and bits of moss.
Damon’s smirk widened, but his eyes remained cold and hard. "Pathetic? Little lady, in the Taiji Basin, ’pathetic’ is what gets you killed.
’Strong’ is what gets you treasures, like those shiny cards you’re carrying, and other... entertainments."
His gaze lingered on Ayra and Lia again, making Daniel’s hand clench around the A-Grade Phantom Edge Striking Wraps he wore.
"You Academy types, you come in here with your fancy instructors and your rulebooks," Damon continued, taking another heavy step forward, the ground protesting with a low groan.
"But you don’t understand the real rules. The Federation, they toss scum like us in here hoping we’ll either die off or, if we’re lucky and mean enough, become useful attack dogs for humanity.
They don’t care how we survive, as long as we get stronger. And we do. By taking from soft little lambs like you who wander too far from the flock."
Lia, who had remained silent until now, her grey eyes watching the two men with an unreadable expression, finally spoke.
Her voice was soft, yet it carried clearly in the tense air. "So, you’re proud of being predators? Of ambushing those who are already struggling?
Is there no honor in your strength?" Her Verdant Lifespring Staff-Sword glowed with a faint, gentle green light, a stark contrast to the dark, aggressive energy radiating from the two thugs.
Marcus cackled again. "Honor? Honor don’t fill your belly, pretty bird! Honor don’t keep you alive when a Razorclaw Stalker is trying to rip your guts out! Gold cards fill your belly!
Taking gear from dead fools keeps you alive! And as for fun..." He leered openly at Lia, then at Ayra. "Well, after a long, hard day of surviving, a man needs some... relaxation.
And you two look like you could provide plenty of that." The wind seemed to hold its breath, then shrieked again as if in disgust.
"Boom!"
Ayra had heard enough. She didn’t shout, she didn’t warn. One moment she was standing still, the next she was a crimson blur, lunging towards Marcus with her unseen axe presumably held ready.
The ground exploded where she had stood, sending dirt and moss flying.
The air itself seemed to tear around her as she moved, her S-Grade [Primal Fury Berserker] talent flaring to life.
Marcus yelped in surprise, his Predatory grin vanishing, replaced by a mask of sudden terror. He tried to bring his rusty knife up to defend himself, but he was far too slow.
"Clang-CRUNCH!"
Ayra’s first blow! Daniel couldn’t even see if it was axe or fist in the blur, sent Marcus flying backwards.
He slammed into one of the obsidian trees with a sickening thud that made the whole tree shudder.
The wind shrieked again, carrying Marcus’ choked scream. He slid down the trunk, leaving a smear of blood, and lay still, his limbs bent at unnatural angles. One hit.
Damon roared in fury and surprise. He hadn’t expected the ’pretty lady’ to be a walking, talking natural disaster.
He swung his heavy pipe wrench in a wide, desperate arc, aiming to crush Ayra. The ground trembled as he put his full, brutish strength into the blow.
Ayra, her crimson aura flaring, didn’t even try to dodge. She met the pipe wrench with her forearm, which was now visibly thicker, her muscles bulging under her torn uniform.
"BOOM!"
The sound of impact was like a thunderclap. The pipe wrench, a solid piece of heavy steel, bent at a sharp angle against Ayra’s arm! Sparks flew.
The wind from the collision blasted outwards, flattening nearby ferns. Damon stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief, his arm vibrating from the shock.
"You... you’re a monster!" he gasped.
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Ayra snarled, then she was on him, a whirlwind of furious, crimson-tinged strikes.
Each punch, each kick, landed with the force of a small explosion. The ground cracked and buckled under their fight.
The wind howled around them like a banshee, carrying the sounds of shattering bone and tearing flesh.
Daniel watched, his A-Grade Phantom Edge Striking Wraps feeling almost redundant. Ayra, in her berserker state, was a force of nature.
He kept his [Aura Sense] active, scanning the surrounding forest. Damon Cruz and Marcus Harris weren’t alone; their greedy energy signatures had told him that.
He sensed at least ten more figures hiding in the deeper shadows, likely the rest of their pack, waiting to see how their leaders fared before committing. Typical scavenger tactics.
Lia, meanwhile, had moved to stand slightly behind Daniel, her staff glowing brighter now.
"She’s incredibly strong," Lia murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and clinical observation.
"But she’s burning through her energy reserves quickly. That kind of output isn’t sustainable for long, even for an S-Grade."
As if to prove Lia’s point, Ayra, after delivering a final, devastating uppercut that sent Damon crashing to the ground in a broken, bleeding heap, stumbled slightly, her crimson aura flickering.
She was panting heavily, her face flushed, but her eyes still blazed with victorious fury.
"Anyone else?" Ayra roared at the silent forest, her voice reverberating through the obsidian trees.
The wind seemed to carry her challenge, then died down into an uneasy quiet.
That was Daniel’s cue. The hidden scavengers were still out there, likely shocked by the swift, brutal dispatch of their leaders, but probably still weighing their chances. no𝚟𝚙u𝚋.c𝚘m
He needed to make sure they understood the message.
He stepped forward, past Ayra, his movements silent and fluid thanks to [Ghoststeps]. He raised his hand, not in a fist, but with his palm open.
He focused, channeling a small, controlled burst of his S-Grade Solar Flare Fist Art’s foundational energy, not to destroy the world but enough to make a statement.
His hand began to glow with a brilliant, eye-searing white, like a miniature sun had appeared in the dim twilight.
"My associate asked if there was anyone else," Daniel said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight of power that made the very air vibrate.
The wind around him stilled, then began to shriek again, this time as if in fear of the power he held.
"I would strongly advise against it. Unless you’re particularly fond of being turned into well-done, and slightly radioactive, jerky."
He held his glowing hand aloft for a moment longer, the sheer, unadulterated power radiating from it washing over the hidden watchers.
He could feel their greedy, predatory auras flicker, then rapidly diminish, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming wave of pure terror.
There was a rustling in the undergrowth, then the distinct sound of multiple bodies scrambling away in a desperate, panicked retreat.
In seconds, their energy signatures vanished from his [Aura Sense] range. Message delivered. Loud and clear.
Daniel let the power in his hand dissipate, the brilliant white light fading, leaving only the faint smell of ozone in the air.
He turned to Ayra, who was staring at his hand, then at him, her crimson berserker rage slowly being replaced by a look of stunned confusion.
"You... you can do that too?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "That felt... like the sun."
"Just a little party trick," Daniel said with a shrug, trying to downplay the S-Grade power he’d just casually displayed. "Keeps the mosquitoes away."
He then walked over to the unmoving forms of Damon and Marcus .
They were definitely dead. He knelt beside them, his expression unreadable. Time for the harvest.
