Chapter 390 Randor Targeted

Chapter 390 Randor Targeted

"I need some time to think it over," Randor finally said.

"Time?" I echoed, frowning. "I was hoping to get the weapon before the Utopian War kicks off."

Randor grimaced at my impatience. "You speak as though my answer is inevitably yes."

"You heard me. The war won't fight itself."

His eyes narrowed. "Your words drip with arrogance, young man. You're speaking as if your mere participation is enough to alter the outcome of the war," he scoffed.

"First off, I'm not just 'speaking as if'—I'm telling you, with certainty, that I can change the course of this war. Secondly, I have no intention of fighting to protect people who stood by while my mother suffered. Unfortunately, there are a few people I care about on this cursed island, so I'll intervene only if their lives are at risk."

Randor stared at me, momentarily speechless, trying to process the brazenness of my declaration.

"What?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Are you sure you're Connor's brother and Kleines' son?" He asked, incredulity coloring his voice. My father and brother were known far and wide for their kindness. Even Christina, my sister, was cut from that same compassionate cloth.

I, however, took more after my mother, with her streak of selfishness and pettiness.

"In any case, you don't sound like someone who needs a weapon from me. If you're so confident, why not just end the war yourself?" Randor asked mockingly.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

I had Trinity Nihil, so technically, I didn't need a new weapon. But Trinity Nihil was a Hallow of Eden—a fact that unsettled me. I couldn't yet wield its full power, and its connection to Eden made me wary.

Also swords weren't for me. I wanted a weapon forged solely for me—something lethal, something merciless.

"If you craft a weapon for me, I'll add you to my list of people to protect," I said.

"What?" Randor chuckled at my offer, clearly amused.

Randor's eyes narrowed, his demeanor shifting as he misinterpreted my words. "Are you threatening to kidnap me, brat?"

But I was deadly serious.

This man was going to be kidnapped soon. I didn't know when exactly, but it was foretold during the Utopian War arc that he would be taken.

"Well, I'm just saying that if someday someone tries to kidnap you, I'll be there to stop them. But if you refuse me now, you'll remember this conversation when it happens," I said with a smirk.

Randor's eyes narrowed, his demeanor shifting as he misinterpreted my words. "Are you threatening to kidnap me, brat?"

"When did I say that, old man?" I snorted, barely able to contain my irritation.

[<It's because you sounded like a true gangster, Amael.>]

I'm just trying to be nice to him!

Suddenly, a deafening explosion reverberated through the room, the shockwave rattling our senses. -BOOM!

The rocky ceiling trembled ominously, cracks spider-webbing across the surface as if threatening to cave in. The door splintered under the force, barely holding together.

Without a second thought, I kicked the door, shattering it to pieces.

"Celes!"

My heart sank as I saw her sprawled on the ground, unconscious, with debris scattered around her. I rushed over, frantically brushing away the rubble that had pinned her down. My hands shook as I lifted her from the wreckage.

"Don't you dare mock my art, brat!"

"Your art is completely useless right now—unless, of course, those statues are secretly weapons."

"There's no way I'd do something like that!"

"Shut up, both of you!!" Celeste snapped, her glare silencing us both. "The enemy is here!"

As she spoke, several figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by masks. Each one was clad in white armor, emblazoned with a distinctive emblem on their chests: a red, oval-shaped eye with a void where the pupil should be.

It was the emblem of the Iris Project.

Leading the group was a masked man, his presence radiating a dangerous aura that made it clear he was the leader.

"Randor Ironbeard, I presume? Hand him over," he asked, his gaze shifting between Celeste and me.

"Hand him over? I doubt you're foolish enough to leave witnesses who could identify who kidnapped Randor," I replied with a derisive snort.

"Indeed," he chuckled darkly. "But if you surrender him now, we'll grant you a painless death."

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—this guy didn't seem to know who I was or who Celeste was. "If you refuse, though, I'll have my men take turns defiling the girl over there, making you watch every moment. Then, I'll gouge out your eyes and kill you alongside her," the man said, his tone dripping with sick amusement.

"Wait! Just take me if that's what you want! Don't touch her!" Randor roared.

"Hm? Interesting. Then come forward on your own, and I promise to spare the girl," the man offered with a sly grin.

"Not happening," I interrupted, stepping in front of Randor with a smile. "I've got a better solution. I kill you and your lackeys, and everything ends happily."

The man tilted his head, scrutinizing me with a curious gaze. "I've seen that hair, those eyes, that face... somewhere. Doesn't matter. Kill them and bring me Randor."

Three of his men surged toward us, but they didn't get far. Their movements came to an abrupt halt, as if they were frozen in place. Celeste, her blade already in motion, glared at them.

"Go away."

"Heard her? Back off—all of you except your leader," I added, pointing a finger at the man. "I need some information from you. Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I'll grant you a painless death."

The man chuckled, clearly amused by my boldness.

"You don't understand, do you? You're just children—how could you possibly comprehend?" He sneered, removing his mask to reveal a gruesome sight.

His face was a mess of scars, deep burns that had left his skin mottled and twisted.

"A-Amael..." Celeste's voice trembled slightly as her grip tightened on her sword. She could sense it too—this guy wasn't just strong, he was on a whole different level.

"How successful were you?" I asked.

He looked at me, momentarily confused. "What?"

"Your experiment. How successful was it?" I pressed. I needed to gauge just how strong this guy was.

Pyres for example was a 17% success while Raisa was 20% one and they were that strong already.

He stared at me for a moment before a twisted smile crept across his scarred face. "You know about that, do you?"

Without another word, he extended his arm, revealing four eerie red eye tattoos embedded in his flesh.

Fuck.

"Forty-one percent," he said, his voice thick with dark pride. "That's my success rate in Milord's experiment."