Chapter 106 Outskirts Of The Desolate World: Brutal Beatdown

Chapter 106 Outskirts Of The Desolate World: Brutal Beatdown

"On the outskirts of the world..." Jenny muttered, approaching Heather while scrunching her eyebrows in confusion. "It's truly a peculiar place to be during a trial in which reaching the center is the objective."

The silver wall was visible, and Heather caressed it endlessly. As she heard Jenny's words, she slowly turned around before unveiling her face. Her eyes were dull, while her eyelids were blackening.

"Yes, truly peculiar," replied Heather, letting out a giggle. "But it's also quite peculiar that a dead man's daughter could be so revolting. The daughter of a legend is not a legend. You are nothing but a regular person."

Jenny didn't respond.

"To be honest, your father was a fucking dumbass," said Heather, spitting on the ground while letting out an innocent giggle. "Getting stepped on by those stronger than him. That's all he ever knew." n--o).V--e.-l./b-.I(.n

Silence.

"It's surprising that that dumbass old man managed to court a wife. But it seems his wife was much worse than him, resulting in your creation."

Jenny's clenched fists leaked blood, and the clattering of her teeth were quite noisy. Her suppression of her emotions was flawless during the training. She masked her true personality from everyone.

However, as she heard the repeated insults targeted at her late father, the one whose legacy she strived to continue, Jenny couldn't help but have the sudden urge to destroy Heather's face and burn it.

It was strange.

Usually, her control over emotions was immaculate. Jenny considered herself a stone statue when it came to such abilities. However, was her self-control so weak that a few insults could shatter it?

It was shocking.

But Jenny did not have any plans on suppressing it any further, at least in front of Heather. Since the woman that stood before her–Neon's girlfriend–would soon be under her feet, groveling like a beggar.

Jenny had finally bared her fangs.

But Heather was not a greenhorn.

As Jenny prepared to unsheathe her sword, Heather was already behind her, waiting patiently to strike. Her shadow fell upon Jenny's shoulders, and before the latter could even unsheathe her sword, Heather had punched Jenny's back.

Jenny's spine curved, and her body flew forward like a broken puppet.

Heather's sheer physical strength was an anomaly, even in the tower. Someone with her constitution shouldn't have been able to support such physical strength, yet it existed within her through an unknown phenomenon.

Jenny coughed blood, wiping it off her lips as she stood up. "Strong."

Heather didn't respond. Her body vanished into a pool of light, then manifested a few feet away from Jenny. It was teleportation. She didn't sprint or run at a terrifying speed, neither did she use a medium.

It was simply divine that such an ability existed.

Pure Teleportation.

Jenny's eyes widened, but Heather's knee had already struck her chin by then. The latter's head suffered a great shock, and she collapsed on her back. Heather then dug her foot into Jenny's abdomen.

"You're pitiful," said Heather, shaking her head. It seemed she'd overestimated Jenny's strength greatly.

Jenny's knees were planted on the ground, and so were her hands. With a face paler than vampires and eyes wider than an ostrich, she seemed horrified by Heather's power. Blood covered her lips, dripping every few seconds.

She had come to steal Heather's gemstones, but...

'I can't die, I can't die...' Jenny repeated internally. It was a thought she couldn't get rid of, no matter how much she tried. Sobs escaped her lips. "I can't die, I can't die... I have to break through the ceiling of the... the tower, the tower."

"What?" Heather inquired, bewildered by Jenny's incoherent words. Then, when she finally understood them, laughter emerged from her lips as if there was no tomorrow. She laughed as if Jenny's words were laced with ridiculous ideas.

"Breaking through the ceiling of the tower?" Heather asked, forcing Jenny's head up by pulling her long, silky hair, which was now tangled. The former smiled gently, caressing the latter's cheek with care.

Then...

Slap!

"Delusional, just like your father," said Heather, chuckling.

*

"My grudge?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. He was aware that Oscar had not an inkling of what had transpired during his former life. However, the crimson-eyed man, frankly, did not care about that.

Unlike the Demons and Angels, who nipped him in the bud before he could become a calamity and threaten their reign, Arthur did not have any cowardice towards Oscar. In fact, the latter feared the former a bit.

What Arthur desired was revenge.

He was not worried about Oscar's future. The latter was a mere ant compared to what the crimson-eyed man's future capabilities were. It was simply because of what his future/past self did that Arthur wished for revenge.

It was a petty reason.

But Arthur did not give two shits.

"My grudge... it is because you spilled coffee on me," said Arthur, disappearing from his location after cracking a smirk. Oscar's expression crumpled as he heard those words, and a sense of bewilderment arose.

'Does he truly hate me because of that?'

It wasn't possible, was it?

However, Oscar didn't have the time to think about such things. As Skofnung approached his body, Oscar was forced to evade by pushing himself to the ground. Balancing on his forearms, Oscar propelled himself into the air.

His feet were up.

Twisting his body, he attempted to land a kick on the crimson-eyed man's head. However, with a swift motion of his hands, Arthur buried his head into the ground. His feet fell to the ground, and Oscar found himself sprawled on the ground.

Arthur extended his arm, resting the tip of Skofnung on Oscar's neck. Crimson aura spilled from the blade, but it soon dissipated once the crimson-eyed man had everything in control. It was only a matter of time, now.

Oscar seemed terrified as he gazed into those crimson eyes. However, fear of death was not present in his expression.

He was fearful of Arthur's eyes, but not of death.

Why?

How could one not fear death when it knocked on their front door?

If they didn't...

They were not human.