"GIVE ME YOUR DICK!"

…Give me your what, sorry?

The bastard came sprinting toward me with that scream, each step leaving streaks of black sludge across the ground.

From what I could see, the maybe-transmigrator guy inside was almost losing control, his body twisting.

But something else hit me harder.

That scream wasn't Nytha, the common tongue everyone in Nytherra spoke. And it sure as hell wasn't Dravonic or Dragon Tongue either.

There were only three known languages in this world. But the thing this bastard just yelled didn't belong to any of them.

Not that I actually knew any other language besides Nytha.

So… how the hell did I just understand what he said?

From what I could tell, the bastard had screamed in some elven dialect or maybe one of those bizarre tongues spoken across the A.S.S. coalition.

And yet, somehow, I understood it clearly.

Was this… a hidden effect from one of my Myths?

Or maybe a skill I hadn't noticed yet?

Just then, one name popped in my mind,

The One Who Scammed Hel.

That particular Myth helped me scam—I mean, make fair deals with others.

How was I supposed to do that if I couldn't even understand their language? Maybe that's why… I can comprehend every spoken tongue now.

It was just an assumption, of course. Could've been some hidden skill or maybe even an effect of my Nexus itself.

…Or maybe that elven dipshit screamed his words with such passion that even my soul understood them, just to be properly creeped out.

In any case, that mystery could wait.

Right now,

I was going to thrash this motherfucking bastard.

Mana burst through my legs instantly like a shockwave.

VoidPulse Steps.

The ground cracked beneath me as I vanished forward, appearing right in front of that shadowy freak.

Before the bastard could react, my fist shot straight toward his annoyingly punchable face.

But before it could connect, he melted.

Literally.

His whole form collapsed into liquid darkness and even his presence vanished, snuffed out like someone had erased him from existence.

That bastard was playing hide and seek now.

The elven fucker might've been powerful in his prime but right now his strength was being choked by his vessel.

No matter how much power he tried to push through,

the body just couldn't handle it.

Which meant that no matter how flashy his tricks looked, he couldn't bring out his full output.

And that made him predictable.

My instincts flared, a warning sharp enough to make every hair on my neck rise.

Something was coming.

Fast.

From behind.

I bent forward at an angle that would've made professional acrobats cry, feeling the air split just inches above my head.

A shadowy spike sliced past my head, close enough to ruffle my hair.

But that wasn't the real attack.

I saw it, the shadows pooling right beneath me, rippling like liquid tar as my face hovered just inches above the ground.

The bastard was going for a double strike.

Immediately, I channelled mana into my hands, three cards flashed into existence, spinning in the air above me.

With a flick of my wrist, I sent one flying to the edge of my domain. It was my backup.

Another shot up, embedding itself into the cavern ceiling. And the last hovered just above my face, humming faintly with mana.

I hadn't tried controlling three cards at once before and damn, it was difficult.

It felt like trying to juggle knives.

I commanded the card hovering over my face to expand. Its edges flared with faint golden light as it stretched outward, growing wider and denser in the blink of an eye.

But as I pushed more mana into it, I felt the resistance kick in, a hard cap. No matter how much I willed it, the damn thing wouldn't grow beyond five meters and its weight wouldn't pass ten kilograms.

A limit.

Of course there had to be a limit.

But it was enough for now.

Still, five meters and ten kilograms were enough.

The shadow beneath me suddenly erupted upward, a dozen jagged spikes tearing through the floor like fangs.

I twisted my wrist.

The golden card slammed down between us as the spikes collided against it with a sharp metallic shriek.

The impact scattered mana like sparks but the card held firm, dense and heavy like a steel wall.

Before the bastard could fade again,

I snapped my fingers.

The second card, embedded in the ceiling, darted downward like a guillotine.

The air cracked as it sliced through the air, forcing the elf-thing to reform, its twisted body solidifying just long enough for me to see its warped face.

"Peekaboo," I muttered.

The third card flashed behind it,

materializing in silence.

The Magician.

In the next instant, I vanished and the world blinked before I appeared right behind him.

My leg shot forward in a clean arc.

Crack.

My heel connected with his skull, sending him flying straight into the falling card above.

He hit it hard, bounced and crashed into the cavern wall.

The explosion of dust almost drowned out his strangled screech.

Now that was easy.

Honestly, from what I had read in the novel, this bastard was supposed to be strong—too strong.

Even C-Rank Noah had struggled against him back then. But clearly, the vessel had been stronger in that version.

And maybe… just maybe,

I had overestimated that maybe-transmigrator dumbass a little too much.

I mean, if he really was a transmigrator, he should've had time to grow stronger… to at least figure out which end of the cosmic stick he was holding.

Unless…

It hadn't been long since his arrival.

In any case… I guess I should finish him off soon.

The guy's probably already dead or suffering through something far worse than death and as the humble, benevolent person that I am, the least I can do is send him off to his peace.

Without too much pain.

You know, out of kindness from one fellow transmigrator to another.

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