"Enough dilly-dallying, Soldier. Let's dance."
"Wha..."
Rhys has never been more confused in his life than he is now. He knew that the Royal Family's overall eccentricity originated from something, but he just didn't imagine it to be from the reigning monarch himself.
Seeing him right now, with his white glowing hair and beard, and throbbing, veiny muscles — one would not really guess he was the king of a country. In fact, Rhys would have probably believed anyone if they said that he was some sort of veteran Explorer instead.
The King was even beckoning him with his hand; taunting him like they were in a street fight rather than a banquet hall with the most influential people in the country. And Rhys almost forgot that fact now that he was staring at the King; all of the people here are the most influential in Enkland.
The only thing Rhys could really do was slowly turn to look at Lina, who just had a wide smile on her face as she gestured to Rhys to go on.
"Am I... even allowed to hit the King?" Rhys whispered. Lina, however, was not the one to answer him, no — he was answered by a fist on his fist, causing him to roll violently on the floor several times as he hit one of the many tables.
"O...oh my..." And the table he hit just happened to be the old woman who just recovered from fainting after seeing his face. Fortunately for the both of them, Rhys was able to recover from the hit as he was actually able to block the King's cheap shot with his arm, allowing him to dig his arm through the floor to soften his crash.
"Are you okay, Ma'am?" Rhys quickly helped the old woman up as the table fell on top of her. And being a Noble, that sort of damage was truly nothing to the old woman, she did not even get a scratch, "Let me help you."
"Th... thank you, Dear. My old bones don't—!!!" All of a sudden, however, as Rhys was helping her up, Rhys's clothes 'accidentally' caught on one of the splinters of the broken table and completely ripped off his coat all the way through his shirt, and quite cleanly at that.
And right there and then, all the women let out a collective gasp of... shock as they saw all the lines and the extremely sharp curvature of Rhys's body; it truly was almost as if they were looking at a sculpture of a god rather than a man.
If one knew Rhys's story, it wasn't that hard to know why his body was more toned and shaped better than most — he started as a powerless Lowborn. His body was the product of an unhealthy obsessive effort to be stronger than what he was.
The Commoners, the Nobles; their bodies were given to them by the very gods themselves, while Rhys had to sculpt himself through the torment and pain. And now that he had gained herculean strength from Ayesha, his body was even more enhanced.
It won't be a lie to say that Rhys had the most beautiful body in the entire world, and his missing arm even seemed to amplify that instead of reducing it.
"Oh... oh my..." And the one who was seeing all of it—no. The old woman who was touching that body could not help but feel her blood and youth rush throughout her entire body, her wrinkled hands, instinctively grabbed Rhys's chest.
"Ma'am!?"
Unfortunately for the old woman, the excitement seemed to have been too much as her eyes started to show their whites and her breaths began to convulse, to the point that she was almost foaming through her mouth.
"She's... not breathing," Rhys turned to look at the man who was seated beside the old woman.
And as the women of the Royal Family were now literally fighting over him, Rhys was still at a loss on whether or not he should actually fight the King. But seeing as no one from his knights was doing anything, and if he could hear it right...
...some of the guards were even blatantly cheering for Rhys to kill the King.
"Kill him! Beat his dick!"
No—they really are vulgarly telling him to kill the King. And upon realizing that, a small smile crawled on Rhys's face. This kind of environment... it completely reminds him of the Underworld Corps.
It would seem the King of Enkland was extremely close to his vassals and men, most likely trained with him too since he was part of Enkland's military.
And so, Rhys just let out a small sigh as he stepped forward.
"A King that attacks a one-armed man, I don't think that's right," Rhys smiled at the King.
"I know what you are capable of, Master Rhys..." The King stretched his arm to the side, summoning a spear which seemed to be made out of water, "...I also know your weakness. It's not playing dirty, it's strategy."
"Hm..." Rhys nodded. And without even any warning, he suddenly pulled his arm back.
"!!!"
And as soon as he did so, the King found himself suddenly flying toward Rhys. He quickly looked at his wrist, only to see several sharp threads almost threatening to cut his hand open. The King only smiled upon seeing that, however, before he quickly let go of his aqua spear; catching it with the other and completely slicing the threads with it.
Upon seeing this, Rhys could not help but squint his eyes — although his thread wasn't as strong as Arachnea's, for the King to just slice them off like that showed that he truly wasn't all talk, unlike his grandchildren.
"You think too much."
"Hm," and as Rhys was lost in thought, he tilted his body to the side as the King threw the aqua spear toward his head, "What makes you think my weakness is wat—"
And before Rhys could finish his words, Rhys ducked down as the aqua spear suddenly changed form as soon as it was right beside him, almost threatening to slice his neck as the spear became a chakram.
"You are irritated by it," the King breathed out; his muscular chest almost puffing as he walked calmly toward Rhys, "Distracted by it, is that not weakness? Is Sylas West not eating your thoughts, Master Rhys?"
"Hm..." Rhys stood up straight as he glared at the King; the respectful tone he had, slightly fading away, "...Contrary, it made me stronger, Your Majesty. Let me show you how...
...but don't blame me for embarrassing you in front of your people."