[ Flint Grimwood ]

RACE: Eclipse Mutant

BLOODLINE: ??? (Linked)

LEVEL: 52(EXP: 196/ 5300)

CULTIVATION REALM: Resplendent core/ Styngian class

STAMINA: 64 (Mutant form+8)

STRENGTH: 68 (Mutant form+8)

INTELLIGENCE: 42(Mutant form+8)

AGILITY: 61(Mutant form+8)

ORIGIN SKILLS: Brilliant mind (A+), Eclipse form (A++)

GENERAL SKILLS: Dash (B+)(Active), Dark chain master (B+)(Active), Swirling tornado (A)(Active)

"This will be though! I can't deal with him, probably even if I give my all." Black lines formed on Grey's forehead. A chill went down his spine.

This will be the toughest battle after his transmigration. A battle where he could even loose his life.

The mutant Flint wasted no time. With a flick of his wrist, the black chain and dagger blurred through the air, an extension of his own malice, aimed directly at Grey's head.

Grey reacted instantly.

He roared, crossing both his massive forearms in front of his face and concentrating his red, smoky aura into a defensive shield."Arm Guard!"

The dagger struck the hardened forearms with a sickening clang.

The force was immense, a brutal impact that pushed Grey backward.

He dug his heels into the earth, sliding along the ground for several meters, his knees bent, successfully deflecting the deadly weapon, but the impact sent tremors up his arms.

Before Flint could recoil the chain, Elena, fueled by a surge of desperate adrenaline and the fresh potion, was on him.

Her bluish moonlight aura clad sword slashed in a desperate arc toward his exposed side.

Flint didn't even bother dodging. He merely extended his crimson hand and caught the blade inches from his skin.

The steel groaned against his impossibly hard palm, the demon's eyes burning red.

"You're no match, little girl," he sneered, the words dripping with contempt.

Coiling the black chain around his free palm, he struck out.

The heavy chain whipped through the air, hitting Elena squarely in the stomach.

The force was agonizing; she screamed, her body catapulting backward like a broken doll.

She scraped along the hard ground, finally coming to a stop near a shattered fountain.

She immediately vomited a mouthful of dark, viscous blood, clutching her ribs and writhing in silent agony.

"Elena!" Grey roared.

A surge of furious emotion overwhelmed Grey, mixed with a chilling, internal reflection.

"Is this really the arc of my death?" he thought, his jaw clenching, the taste of failure bitter in his mouth.

"I knew this day would come if I stuck around her. I trained and fought like crazy, almost on the brink of death many a times, only to grow strong for this day. I can't lose here." He clicked his tongue, banishing the doubt.

He balled his fists tight, his red aura flaring with violent intent.

In the next moment, he vanished. Utilizing the Dash skill, he pushed his aura reserves to their limit and reappeared right in front of the smug Flint in a blink.

"One Punch Kill!" Grey bellowed, activating his most devastating skill.

His aura-clad fist, saturated with pure, concentrated force, rushed toward Flint's face.

The sheer speed of the strike displaced the air violently, creating a powerful wind blast that made Flint's long dark hair dance wildly. In the distance, stone and debris were blasted backward, leaving a deep trench etched into the ground behind the arc of Grey's punch.

But Flint remained utterly unmoving.

He didn't even flinch.

With casual, horrifying ease, he simply caught Grey's fist within his palm.

The impact delivered no scratch, no tremor, not a single sign of distress in his crimson body.

"You're too slow," Flint mocked, the smirk never leaving his lips. He squeezed Grey's imprisoned fist.

"You're still weak, child. Acting hero without the strength to back it up can only call doom."

Flint suddenly yanked his chain back, the dagger flying rapidly in its arc.

It zipped around Grey's astonished head and, with sickening speed, coiled tightly around his neck.

With a final, malicious swing, Flint pulled back hard.

Grey went flying upward, spinning helplessly in the air before being slammed down onto the ground with catastrophic force.

The earth cracked and splintered beneath him, a cloud of dust erupted, and Grey lay unmoving within the deep pit that had formed.

Flint threw his head back and laughed, a cruel, echoing sound that bounced off the Academy spires.

He recoiled the black chain tightly around his arm, the dagger resting menacingly against his crimson skin, and turned his attention back to his prey.

Elena was still groaning, clutching her stomach where the chain had struck, the pain too intense for her to muster any defense.

Flint approached her with slow, theatrical steps, savoring the final moments of her resistance.

Upon reaching her, he discarded all pretense of gentleness. With a swift, brutal motion, he reached down and picked her up by her neck.

Her feet dangled helplessly in the air as his grip cut off her breath. Her face quickly turned a shade of sickly blue.

"I told you to stop struggling," Flint said, the smirk fixed on his face, enjoying her distress.

"You would have been spared from this pain then. It truly is a waste of beautiful potential."

Elena's eyes, though rapidly glazing over from lack of oxygen, were still blazing with defiance.

"I-I'll f-fucking… k-kill you… bastard…" she somehow managed to squeeze the words out, the sound a choked whisper.

With a final, desperate act of rebellion, she gathered what little moisture she had left and spat a mouthful of bloody saliva directly onto Flint's crimson cheek.

Flint froze.

He slowly wiped the spittle away with the back of his hand, his smirk vanishing, replaced by a look of cold, intense annoyance. He clicked his tongue and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

"Insolent child. I wanted to go easy," he muttered, his voice dangerously low. "But you just had to do this."

With a sudden, sickening movement, his chain-coiled fist slammed into Elena's belly.

Her body arched backward in a spasm of agonizing pain, and another mouthful of dark, frothy blood erupted from her lips.

The hit was so devastating, so perfectly targeted, that she lost consciousness immediately.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went limp in his grasp.

Flint shrugged, his expression clinical again. He hoisted her unconscious, small body over his shoulder, securing her like a sack of spoils.

"Alright then. Mission successful. Lord Rahukin will be pleased!" a smile of content spread on his face as he turned toward the open fields, intending to make his escape.

He took three steps.

Then, he stopped dead.

An intense pressure of raw, lethal killing intent suddenly bore down on him.

It was a physical force, heavy and crushing, settling over the battlefield like a suffocating blanket.

Flint's eyes, the crimson slits usually radiating dominance, snapped wide open in genuine shock.

A chill colder than the grave went straight down his spine, stopping his heart for a terrifying beat.

The air around him suddenly felt heavy, like molten lava; thick, sizzling, and utterly hostile.

He didn't need to turn his head to know where it was coming from.

It emanated from the deep, cracked pit where Grey had been slammed and lay unmoving, a pit that was now radiating a furious, chaotic energy.

The 'unmoving' warrior was very clearly, moving. Something deep, elemental, and utterly enraged was awakening.

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