On top of Pantheon HQ, Vincent roared in anger over the line.
"Send me your hunters! I don't care if the one attacking us is not a fucking Demon. One guy just destroyed advanced unmanned combat robots from a Tier 2 city like they were nothing! If you don't send a hunter now, you can forget about our company funding your useless organization!"
BAM!
In a fit of frustration, he slammed the desk phone back down hard.
He had hoped the combat robots would neutralize the threat, but they hadn't even slowed down the attackers.
'I need more people,' he thought, quickly dialing more numbers.
He called the military and local police, demanding assistance and cursing them for moving too slowly and letting this event unfold.
In addition, he also threatened that if they didn't send more troops, he would report this to the chamber and cut their funding.
After that, he watched the CCTV feed, horrified, as the infiltrator massacred everything in sight.
It was a brutal display of violence, indiscriminately targeting even innocent employees who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
RING! RING! RING!
His private phone rang, a line reserved for those with influence—meaning whoever was calling must be important.
The call displayed no number, indicating it came from an untraceable phone .
"Hello? Who is this?" he asked, ensuring his tone was respectful to avoid offending the person on the other end.
[It seems you're having problems on your end. Want me to take care of it?]
"Who are you ?" Vincent asked with a low voice.
And after hearing the caller's name, a smile formed in his face.
"Yes, I'm willing to agree to your terms. If you kill that bastard, Pantheon will support your family , and I'll donate five billion credits for the trouble!" he exclaimed.
Five billion credits meant nothing to someone like him. His company earned billions of credits per month across multiple cities.
In fact, he didn't really need to pay the caller the money; he offered it as a gesture of goodwill.
When the call ended, he settled back into his chair, a wide smile stretching across his face.
He leaned back and lit an expensive cigar, confident that this incident would soon be resolved.
"I'm one lucky bastard," he chuckled to himself.
"I'm not really in the mood for a chat right now," Reign replied, finding the hunter's demeanor a bit irritating.
A smile formed under Quill's helmet. He sensed that his enemy was equally confident.
"Shame... I only brought my katana with me. If I'd known someone like you was here, I would've brought my full gear... But I think this will do," Quill chuckled aloud, swinging his sword lazily to the ground.
FLASH!
A sudden burst of blinding light filled the corridor.
As the brilliance faded, Quill was already a couple of meters behind Reign, his katana now sheathed.
The fight had ended in an instant.
"So, you're weaker than I thought," Quill sighed. He had expected his enemy to at least survive three of his casual attacks.
"You're really funny. You just broke my dagger and act like you've already won," Reign responded.
Quill had thought he had sliced through the body, but when he turned to look, only the dagger was cut in half.
"Good. It would be boring if you died too fast." He chuckled confidently.
Without wasting a moment, he unleashed another flash of light, increasing his speed a bit to uncover how his first attack got evaded the first time.
Inside the blinding brightness, he dashed forward and swung his sword vertically, aiming to cut his target in half.
His speed was extremely fast, but just before impact, blue arcs of electricity crackled around Reign, and he sidestepped with lightning-fast reflexes, evading the attack completely.
He then returned to his original position seamlessly, as if he had never moved at all.
When the light subsided, both looked each other face to face.
'Thunderbird?' Quill mused inwardly.
He was almost 60% certain that the arcs of lightning he had seen moments ago were from the Thunderbird Breathing Technique.
'But his acceleration was too fast for the Thunderbird,' Quill contemplated. 'I'll keep an eye on him during the fight.'
He moved his katana, shifting from a lazy stance to a precise, battle-ready posture.
He spread his legs for a firm grip on the ground, with his front knee slightly bent and his back leg stretched out straight.
His body leaned a bit forward, ready to move. Gripping the katana firmly in his right hand, he angled the blade down, its tip pointing toward the floor.
His eyes locked into his opponent, no longer underestimating the threat. 'Let's see if you can handle my 50%,' he chuckled inwardly, eager to test someone who could match his speed.