Chapter 644 Erion

Chapter 644 Erion

A few minutes ago

The hall that Atticus had observed earlier through the roof was brimming with energy and bustling with intense activity. It was completely incomparable to the other areas he had infiltrated.

This expansive space was large enough to accommodate hundreds of people easily and was filled with a cacophony of voices. The clash of fists and the thud of bodies hitting the ground permeated the space.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood, mingled with the acrid smoke from various bloodlines being activated.

The main fighting force of the Obsidian Order was engaged in combat, sparring with one another in vicious brawls, each hit more brutal than the last.

This was the inner section of the group, housing the most powerful and dangerous members of the entire settlement. The weakest of them were at the master- rank, and even they had years of battle experience under their belts.

Two men grappled near the center, their movements fierce and unrestrained. One of them, a burly fighter with a shaved head, threw a powerful punch that sent his opponent reeling backward.

"Come on, is that all you got?" he sneered, wiping the blood from his split lip. "You hit like my grandma, and she's been dead for years!"

Nearby, another fight was brewing. A tall, lanky man taunted his opponent, ducking and weaving around him with a grin plastered on his face.

"What's the matter, Gregor? Can't keep up? Maybe you should go back to the kitchens with the rest of the weaklings!"

Gregor, a muscular brute with a face twisted in rage, swung wildly, but the lanky man dodged effortlessly, laughing all the while. "You're too slow, old man! Maybe those five years of peace made you soft!"

The room was filled with similar scenes of violence and banter, each fight more intense than the last.

Unlike the scouts or hunters that Atticus had observed before, these men were entirely different. They were brimming with life, energy, and a thirst for combat that hadn't waned despite years of inactivity.

They were the main fighting force—warriors who lived only for the thrill of battle. For them, fighting wasn't just a necessity; it was an addiction. They fought for hours nonstop each day, and the only time they ever paused was when they were knocked out or were unable to continue.

Amidst all the commotion, a particularly brutal fight was unfolding near the far side of the hall.

Two men, both well-built and covered in scars, were going head-to-head. The first man, a hulking figure with a thick neck and fists like hammers, swung a massive punch at his opponent.

The second man, leaner but quicker, dodged the blow and countered with a swift uppercut that connected with a sickening crunch.

The crowd around them cheered, urging them on with shouts and jeers.

The hulking man staggered back, blood dripping from his nose, but he was far from done.

With a shout, he charged forward, tackling his opponent to the ground. They rolled across the floor, each grappling for control, but the leaner man managed to get the upper hand.

In one fluid motion, he pinned his opponent down and delivered multiple devastating punches to the face, knocking him out cold.

The hall fell into brief silence as the victor rose to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced around at the other fighters, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

"Did you see that? I'm the strongest here! No one can fucking beat me!"

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall as the others immediately reacted, some muttering challenges under their breath, while others yelled insults.

"You got lucky, bastard!" one shouted. "Anyone can win once!"

"Let's see you try that against me!" another called out, rising from his seat, fists clenched.

"E-Eri... M-Master Erion, I didn't mean what I said! It was just a slip—"

"A man who declares what he doesn't mean is nothing but a coward. The Obsidian Order has no need for cowards," Erion cut him off coldly.

The man felt a cold shiver run through his body as Erion spoke. The meaning of Erion's words was unmistakable: if he didn't fight, he would be killed.

'I don't have a choice,'

The man clenched his fists tightly, gathering a semblance of composure before hesitantly assuming a fighting stance.

The circle that had formed around them tightened. No one wanted to miss the fight.

They had rarely seen Erion in battle, as he and his crew usually trained at the mansion in the center of the village, close to Grandmaster Alvis.

Although Erion was known as the strongest, it had never been proven. They wanted to see it with their own eyes.

No starting signal was given. The ground buckled as the man disappeared and reappeared in front of Erion, his body dipping low before unleashing a supersonic punch aimed straight at Erion's face.

However, Erion's expression remained impassive and calm as his right hand moved.

Fist and palm met, sending an intense shockwave through the air that made the onlookers' clothes flutter.

But the man's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. Erion's entire body, including his palm, hadn't even moved an inch!

He immediately tried to pull back, but suddenly felt a bone-crushing grip on his fist. An intense pain shot through his body as he struggled to break free, but it was futile.

'I have to use my bloodline!'

Red lines streaked across the man's skin like glowing veins on a volcano, and his black hair began to radiate an intense red. His temperature spiked, and he erupted into a fiery blaze.

He focused all the heat into his palm, the intensity of the fire building. But still, Erion did not budge.

The man unleashed another devastating punch with his left hand, but it only ended up being caught by Erion's other palm.

The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the hall as the man screamed in agony. With each passing second, the man suddenly began to feel weak.

'What is happening!?'

His question was answered in the next instant.

'M-my mana! He's draining my mana!?'

The man felt his mana being siphoned from his body, an overwhelming weakness overtaking him. He soon fell to his knees, his flames extinguished as his mana levels plummeted.

Erion's gaze remained calm, his expression unchanged as the man's body lost all its vigor. After some time, Erion released his grip, allowing the man to collapse to the floor, unable to lift a single finger.

The entire hall was utterly silent. A Master+ rank had just been defeated so easily! It was so unbelievable that many had trouble accepting the reality of what had just transpired before their very eyes.

Erion stood tall, glancing down at the man on the floor with a look that screamed of insignificance.

"Weak," he muttered.

Erion turned and began walking out of the hall, but he had barely taken two steps when a deafening sound echoed through the space.

"INTRUDER!!"