Polyphemus found himself wary in spite of himself.

His heartbeat slightly spoked up and he felt saliva gathering in his throat as it itched.

A cold pressure enveloped him, like tiny icicles piercing his skin and fusing him to back off.

The ebony cyclops could not ignore these feelings

And so, he raised his massive club and asked the masked stranger who had already shown miraculous feats before him. In a voice tinged with suspicion, he asked only a simple but pertinent question that mattered.

"Who... are you?"

The man in the mask was a mystery. According to the intel he had received, the strongest in the ExRump Corporation, other than their leader himself, was Yuri.

There were also a few other notable individuals strong in the ExRump Corporation, but none matched the description of the man who stood before him.

There had been no mention of anything about this guy, which meant he wasn't in the group, or perhaps wasn't simply regarded as strong.

But now that Polyphemus was staring at him now, he could tell without a doubt...

'He's stronger than that Yuri girl!'

Despite how Polyphemus looked and acted, he was actually a very logical individual.

Being dismissed for his brutish exterior, he prided himself on his sharp mind, the ability to think and make sensible decisions alongside the power to pummel down his enemies.

His intelligence was looked down on by the other Eight Heads, but he knew he had the makings of a master strategist.

'This man is strong. But... is he stronger than me?'

So far, everything Polyphemus had witnessed him do a bunch of things that shouldn't have been possible by normal standards. The masked figure had healed a girl instantly, teleported her to her group, and even shielded them with a barrier, a high-level array of skills that should demand intense specialization.

'There was no way he could have all of them at once, talkless of using them freely,' Polyphemus reasoned. 'They must be one-time skills or have extensive cooldowns. Or perhaps they're the effects of powerful artifacts, consumable and finite.*

Yes... yes, that's definitely it!

Convincing himself, Polyphemus pushed the thought of the stranger's strength aside. There was simply no way this masked man could outmatch him.

"My name is Polyphemus! Warrior of Blood and Iron, and a proud member of the Eight Heads of Destruction!" he bellowed as his eyes fixed on the silent masked figure. Upon seeing that the masked man didn't respond, Polyphemus decided he'd have to make himself heard by taking the initiative

As he spoke, he reminded himself just how powerful he truly was.

'I'm a big deal, you know?'

Broadening his lips, he bared his fanged teeth in a grin so savage, it could have been mistaken for that of a wolf beast.

"The Great Polyphemus is asking you a question. You'd do well not to waste my time and answer me!"

He smashed his club's head on the ground, triggering a small explosion of pressure that reverberated through the area.

His men erupted in cheers into the air, chanting his name in roaring praise.

"Hehehe... hahahaha!" Polyphemus laughed, savoring their admiration. To him, all of it was music to his ears. But to his opponent, it had to symbolize danger.

'I could sense the fear and desperation on him when I went after his little friends. I doubt he's very strong!'

Once Polyphemus convinced himself of this, it completely erased the memory of how the stranger effortlessly stopped his club in mid-swing, or the way the man had moved with such speed that Polyphemus hadn't even registered his repositioning.

No, none of that mattered now.

"Since you've clearly proven yourself to be mute, I'd better put you out of your misery," Polyphemus sneered as he took a step forward. "Weaklings like you should be-"

"Mind if I ask a question?"

The deep voice of the masked man suddenly pierced through the air, and caused instant silence, prompting even the cheering audience to cease their noises.

Polyphemus felt a bead of sweat forming on his face for no good reason, an involuntary reaction that irritated him.

"Tch. I don't need to-" He dismissed the question and took another step forward.

Then...

BOOM!

The ground in front of him exploded by what pleaded to be slash marks that had scraped the ground, digging several layers inside as they shattered hard concrete.

It had all happened in a flash, so fast even Polyphemus's one eye couldn't track it.

"Are you the strongest of the Eight Heads of Destruction? If not, where would you rank your strength?"

The question hit Polyphemus like a jolt, sparking a flash of disbelief.

'Why is he asking me such a question?!'

He quickly shrugged it off as the nonsensical babblings that a desperate man facing certain death would utter.

"Dead men have no need for such answers!" he grinned, baring his teeth in a grin.

"Hmm. True enough. But I don't see how that applies here..."

A chill rippled through Polyphemus at the calm rebuttal. Only a handful of people dared to speak back to him. He wasn't comfortable adding another to that short list.

"Dead men indeed don't need certain answers. That's why I didn't bother telling you my name."

At this, Polyphemus flared up in rage instantly.

"You fool! To speak so boldly in my presence, let's see if you can back those arrogant words!" He smashed his club into the ground again, splitting the earth with a violent crack.

He was done analyzing, done thinking. He was a barbarian, an infamous Cyclops, and a descendant of the Sea Goddess herself. It was time to fight like one.

'[Power Output]! [Intimidation Aura]!'

As soon as his thoughts echoed in the depths of his mind, he summoned his strength and his muscles swelled with overflowing untamed energy.

Polyphemus didn't have a wide array of Skills. He preferred the term "quality over quantity."

Or perhaps he was only stuck with a few Skills because he hardly did anything consistently to warrant him getting a new one or he'd just never bothered enough with anyone to push his abilities further.

But he didn't care. As he was now, he was more than powerful enough, stronger than most would ever be in the Third Civilization Zone.

'I was considered as the weakest member of the Eight Heads of Destruction,' Polyphemus thought. 'However, with my club in hand, I can only think of three or four members that can match me in sheer power!'

He had the most destructive offense, and coupled with his impenetrable defense, he was truly invincible.

"I'll show you why you never should've messed with me!" Polyphemus bellowed, with veins pulsing across his forehead as he licked his lips in anticipation. "I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Polyphemus wielded only three Skills, yet they were enough to carve his path to dominance. His most prized Skill, the one exclusive to him alone, was [Damage Nullification].

This was his golden finger, the sole Skill that made him capable of rising up the ranks and defeating countless opponents without getting as much as a scratch on him. Unless his opponent was absurdly strong or if a much higher Level than him with a better Class to boot, they could never compare to him.

Aside from [Damage Nullification], he had two more: [Power Output] and [Intimidation Aura].

[Power Output] allowed him to explosively increase his combat ability, letting him channel raw mana to amplify his strength to an unimaginable degree while also costing himself in dense, powerful Mana.

Meanwhile, [Intimidation Aura] filled his enemies with dread, allowing them to grow paranoid and even sluggish in their movements, including muddling their senses with fear. Even the most skilled fighters would find it difficult against him when their bodies weren't listening under his aura.

Gripping his club, Polyphemus activated its special ability.

VWUUUUMMM!

20,000

.

.

.

.

.

60,000

Dark red energy coursed over the club, and arcs of blackish-red lightning dancing around his body as he laughed like the monster he was.

The earth around him caved in as his overwhelming power leaked out in waves, crushing the ground beneath him in disturbing amounts.

His Club, [Barbarian's Bloody Bat] could imbue itself with energy equivalent to how many lives it had extinguished.

Yes... lives.

The gap in strength between each life taken wasn't too much, so he had to eliminate a lot of foes for the Club to have a slight boost in power.

It was almost like Leveling Up, but for a weapon.

It even got increasingly harder to see growth when he pummeled down weak foes, so Polyphemus currently finds stronger people to smash in with his club.

Right here and now, he had found two, Yuri and the man before him.

'After I kill them both, how much stronger will my club become?'

After nearly a hundred years in the [Realm of Calamity], Polyphemus was already eyeing the next stage, the [Realm of Disaster]. With his Artifact primed and his Skills fully unleashed, he felt like an overpowered beast on the verge of ascension.

He was ready to pounce on his prey.

'Hehehe... let's go!'

WHOOOSH!

Polyphemus launched forward in a sharp blur with traces of his eyes glowing red as he moved faster than anything around him. In his eyes, the world seemed to slow to a crawl, leaving him as the single, unstoppable force barreling toward his target.

It was a surreal experience, but Polyphemus did not let any of that distract him from his simple goal.

"I'll cave your face in with my Bloody Bat!" he roared and took a sharp swing of his club with bone-crushing force.

The weapon moved like a colossal mountain compressed into a mere club, carrying the entire pressure of wind as it tore through the air. Compared to the masked figure that stood still, it was too big and looked like an unstoppable blow, one bound to end this in a single strike.

'I wanted to enjoy this more, but it looks like it'll be over soon...'

Polyphemus didn't know why he felt relieved by this conclusion, but he shrugged off those useless thoughts and watched as his weapon made its way to his victim's face.

It was the en-

"This weapon..."

The masked man's voice cut through the moment, and with a single hand, he caught the Bloody Bat mid-swing.

'Again!?' Polyphemus's lone, bulging eye clearly expressed his disbelief as he looked at the absolutely absurd scenario. 'How is this happening?!'

How could this man bare handedly stop a weapon that was almost as tall as he was? He didn't even seem to be taking any damage!

"The energy in this weapon... that's not mana. Are these... souls?" The masked man murmured, his hand trembling slightly as he held the club.

Polyphemus's initial shock faded, replaced by dark amusement. 'He's under the effect of my [Intimidation Aura], and he's probably struggling under all that weight!'

Even though the stranger held the spiked club with one hand, Polyphemus still chose to believe that this was only because of the aura's effect and it's a reasonable explanation.

'Is he aware of Bloody Bat's ability? Looks like it intimidated him. Hehe... what a wuss!'

Polyphemus decided he would try a few more times and pummel his foe until he was nothing but mincemeat, so he tightened his grip and was ready to swing again.

But...

'H-huh? Why isn't it budging...?!'

His club seemed to be stuck in place, refused to budge and unable to even shift the slightest bit.

It was as if it was being sucked further away from his grip the harder he tried to pull away.

'What the he-?!'

WUUUUM!

Before Polyphemus could conclude his thoughts, he felt an overwhelmingly chilly aura spread from the man who stood before him, chilling him to the core.

It caused his entire body to shiver and his teeth to chatter as the unnatural cold seeped into his bones.

"Among thousands of souls trapped in this weapon, I sensed 558 men, women, and children. All of them were innocent lives... and you killed them just for sports?!"

Polyphemus could not see the expression that the masked man had under his guise, but he could tell that this wasn't fear. Despite the tremor in the man's voice, there was something else, something darker.

"It's as if you're giving me a reason to kill you. All of you..."

Polyphemus didn't know why he gulped the moment he heard those words.

"This world... it's no different from Earth. Why is there not a single place less cruel? If cruelty is a universal rule, then..."

Polyphemus couldn't understand what the masked man was saying as his focus shifted to the violent shuddering of his club. He could only feel something happening to his club.

'W-why is it trembling so much? It's shaking so violently, almost as if it-!'

CRACK!!!

In that split moment, the [Barbarian's Bloody Bat] that Polyphemus was so proud of experienced a drastic transformation.

Several cracks appeared all over it, all stemming from the point where it was held by the masked man, spreading like spider webs across the club.

Then-

BOOOM!

It shattered apart the next moment.

Like broken rocks, or particles of ice that had been broken to pieces by an even stronger force, the debris scattered all around.

'Impossible!' he shouted in his thoughts. 'The [Barbarian's Bloody Bat] was a Transcendent Tier 2 Magic Artifact, crafted from a mineral harder than adamantite!'

Yet, the weapon that had filled him with such confidence had simply broken to pieces as though it were made of brittle glass.

As the last fragments fell, Polyphemus's moist and terribly confused eyes onto the masked man's eyes, glowing with a fierce crimson light.

It shone with power, but there was something else buried underneath them.

Something deep... dark... and disturbingly primal.

It was pure bloodlust.

The invisible force combined with the pull he'd exerted to keep hold of his club sent Polyphemus hurtling backward.

"Guh!" he grunted as his massive body skidded across the dirt. Though his skin was impenetrable, the force left a deep discomfort thrumming through his bones.

Polyphemus held his head with one hand and shook it.

"Urgh..." He let out a deep breath and looked in front of him, hoping all that happened was just in his head.

But as he looked up and saw the masked man's outstretched hand, with remnants of his shattered club falling from it, he could no longer deny the truth.

The masked man had destroyed his weapon.

"My name is Ghost, and while this wasn't my initial plan... I'm going to have to kill you here."

As those words echoed through the night air, Polyphemus felt a shudder ripple through him. The glowing crimson in Ghost's eyes left no room for doubt, he was deadly serious.

'Why?!'

No, Polyphemus realized how strange his thought process was.

'In the first place, why wouldn't he kill me?'

They were enemies, and if the roles were reversed, Polyphemus would have done the same to him within a heartbeat. In a brutal world of beings with unnatural strength, speed, and chaotic power, it was the fate of the loser to die, usually painful deaths, in the advent of the winner's triumph.

There was nothing unusual about this.

"Now then..." Ghost took a single, measured step forward.

Polyphemus instinctively slid back with his hands digging into the dirt, seated as he faced Ghost, as he called himself.

He didn't know why, but with every advance made by the man, he found himself trying to widen the distance.

'What am I doing?' he thought, his mind spinning. 'I'm one of the Heads of Destruction! Running like this in such a shameful way? Unbelievable!'

Yet his body seemed to move on its own, driven by an instinct he couldn't control.

'No...'

Polyphemus slid back another few inches, his bloodshot eye widening as Ghost drew even closer.

'No... I can't let it end like this...'

With Ghost moving closer, Polyphemus's entire being quaked as a fire rose in his chest even as the shadow of death stood over him.

'I CAN'T LET IT END LIKE THIS!'

BOOOM!

The ground splintered around him as his gigantic body rose to its feet.

He felt immensely powerful once again, thanks to his [Power Output] Skill finally making a comeback, and bolstered by the remnants of his club's energy, filling him with a renewed sense of invincibility.

All the magic artifacts he even wore fueled him with confidence, but what made him most optimistic was his body itself, a fortress of iron-hard muscle and unbreakable will.

'So what if he destroyed my Bloody Bat? I'm indestructible!'

His skin gleamed like polished steel, and his muscles bulged as he tightened them in preparation for the showdown. He knew that this masked man's seemingly limitless strength couldn't last as he had to be burning through multiple skills, maybe even magic artifacts.

'Of course! Working for ExRump Corporation, he'd be loaded with high-tier gear.'

Since this man worked for the ExRump Corporation, a massive company that sells high-level magic artifacts, chances were that he would receive tons of benefits from them. A bunch of Magic Artifacts could not be out of the equation.

'He'll soon reach his limits. I just have to keep pummeling!'

Polyphemus had spent his life building this body, hardening himself until he could make even the mightiest warriors feel small. His stamina was unmatched and his defenses were unbreakable. He could outlast anyone as he just had to keep going.

'I just have to-'

Before Polyphemus could complete his line of thought, Ghost was right in front of him in a flash.

'Teleportation?!'

Well, it didn't matter to Polyphemus in the slightest. His enemy was within reach, and that was all Polyphemus needed.

"Time to dig in!"

He clenched his fust and began to launch a flurry of punches towards the masked figure. Each blow landed with a force that could crack boulders, but it felt like it was being stopped by an unbreachable wall.

His attacks were doing nothing.

However, Polyphemus did not stop, he couldn't stop, no matter what!

"ORAAAAAAAAA!!!"

His muscles bulged even more, and his speed exploded to a phenomenal degree. His fists moving faster, harder, each strike more punishing than the last as he relentlessly continued his attacks like a storm of violence, not even stopping for a second.

"That's enough."

The next strike that Polyphemus sent towards Ghost was suddenly directed back at him, almost like a counter.

All of a sudden, his bones shattered, and his arm became mangled under his own strength.

"GUARK!" Blood sprayed from his ebony skin as he staggered backwards, clutching his mangled arm.

'A counter-type skill?!'

It was the only answer that made sense as Polyphemus was feeling the full force of his own monstrous attack turned against him.

"It's time to end this." Ghost's voice cut through the air, chilling Polyphemus to his core.

In that instant, a grim realization washed over him, he could be harmed.

'If he can redirect my attacks, then each strike puts me at risk. I have to-'

But before he could even complete his thought and tried to find his perfect footing, Ghost was in front of him.

"Euk! Y-you-!"

CRACK!

Both his knees shattered in an instant, forcing Polyphemus to collapse and kneeled on the ground before he fully grasped what had happened.

'But... I didn't even attack.' His single eye bulged with confusion. 'How am I taking damage?'

He tried to push himself up and leap from Ghost to create some distance. But...

"Stay."

The small hand of the masked one touched his shoulder, and the pressure he generated caused Polyphemus' intentions to remain just that.

He couldn't rise up thanks to the hand that kept him down, and even when he tried to pull the hand away, he was met with another shattered bone in his only viable hand.

"GAHH!"

Polyphemus, the one who had boasted of invincibility, now knelt in submission. His legs couldn't move and his arms were no longer viable.

As the beads on his neck clacked hard on his tough chest, Polyphemus could only look at the ground, no, the man's shoes.

The unthinkable had happened, he was the one looking up.

He was no longer the taller one.

Instead, Ghost looked down on him from an elevated height with his crimson gaze filled with condescension.

'How... how did he do this? I'm supposed to be... invincible.'

There was only one answer left for Polyphemus, and now he had no other choice but to accept it.

The man before him, Ghost, was stronger than he was.

Far, far stronger!

He was probably on par with the Deadly Three, the way Polyphemus saw it.

Perhaps even as powerful as the fabled Deadly Three, the way Polyphemus saw it.

'What now? What more can I do?'

The answer evaded Polyphemus. He could no longer fight, and he could no longer run. He was just a useless limp of mangled flesh and broken bones, left at the mercy of the devil standing over him.

'Is this... the end?'

In that desperate moment, an idea sparked within him. Looking around, he caught sight of his subordinates, whose faces were twisted in fear and hesitation. He knew he had neither arm nor leg to help him now, so he wielded the only weapon he had left... his voice.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?! ATTACK!" he yelled with all the strength he had left in his lungs.

Polyphemus didn't care that saliva rushed out of his mouth as he spoke.

"I command you as your leader, as a Head of Destruction, kill him!"

At his shout, the scared and hesitant soldiers grasped their weapons and stepped forward with blank, expressionless faces. Their eyes showed reluctance, but their bodies moved as though possessed.

"I see... some form of mind control triggered by command," Riley muttered, while Polyphemus grinned with a twisted satisfaction.

The masked man wasn't wrong.

This was a special privilege given to every member of the Eight Heads of Destruction.

They could order lower members to do whatever, and they would listen. This wasn't the result of a Skill, but simply a magical crest that every member of the Mercenary Gang had.

It was imbued with a Magic Spell that bound them to the will of their leaders. Hence, giving the latter the ability to control them and compelled them to obey without question.

'I can only give them simple instructions like this,' Polyphemus thought, 'But that's more than enough!'

Polyphemus knew that even a hundred soldiers wouldn't be enough to kill this monster before him, but they could at least buy him some time.

During the chaos, he'd command two of the men to carry him out of the battlefield.

Polyphemus might have been a hardened warrior, but he wasn't suicidal. He'd live to fight another day, retreat, build his strength to the utmost degree, and one day return for a second round.

'Yes! I'll rip him to shreds when that time comes. But for now, though, I'll leave this to my subordinates.'

They usually just stood there while he fought all the battles for them, so this wasn't a heartless or wicked decision, right?

He had done so much for them, so the very least they could do was repay him for all his hard work just this once.

That was how Polyphemus justified it to himself.

"UWOOOAAHHHH!!!"

The army marched forward, all of them raising their blades high as they charged towards the single foe.

The earth trembled beneath their pounding feet, and the air vibrated as a result of the noisy rhythm of a hundred men advancing as one.

Bloodlust gathered around them, and from their blank gazes alone, it was clear they would only aim for the target's vitals.

'I can buy at least seven minutes... no, most likely five minutes with them,' he thought.

His men were weak, but they weren't entirely without use.

'They just have to-'

"Hey..." a deep voice cut through his thoughts. It belonged to none other than Ghost.

Polyphemus didn't know when he had looked up, only that the voice had pulled him back from the depths of his thoughts.

"...Ever heard of desublimation?"

Polyphemus did not comprehend what he was hearing at all.

"Desub... limation?"

As he echoed the term, his eyes widened as he saw all his subordinates suddenly get crushed by something invisible, as if it fell on them from above.

Their squished bodies collapsed under the unseen force, sending fountains of blood spraying in all directions, fragments of flesh and bone scattering like fallen leaves in a storm.

"E-eh...?"

Just like that, Polyphemus watched in horror as crimson liquid sprayed in multiple directions and the bones and flesh of his subordinates were ground into a mixed form that barely resemble anything to their previous appearance.

It was beyond horrifying, beyond anything he could describe.

This was no mere mortal's doing.

It was the work of a MONSTER!

His well-trained men had fallen in mere seconds to the figure standing before him. He'd expected them to hold their ground for minutes, yet they hadn't even survived a heartbeat.

It was too much. Too impossible.

"W-who... who are you...?" Polyphemus didn't know how he still found the courage to speak, but he was able to mutter the question.

His well-trained subordinates had perished so easily to this entity before him. He'd expected them to hold their ground for one minute, but they didn't even survive for one second.

It was absurd! Too absurd!

As if that wasn't enough, the crimson gaze of the masked one fell on Polyphemus as he coldly spoke the words that caused the last strand of hope within him to snap.

"You're next."

------------------------

Riley stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by a gruesome sight with a hundred men reduced to little more than formless paste across the floor.

He felt no satisfaction, only a cold recognition of the power he had unleashed.

The air was heavy with mana, he could feel its density pressing in from every direction, a vast ocean of particles he'd gathered and condensed, woven together so tightly that they'd taken on a solidity even light couldn't penetrate. To any onlooker, it had been as if nothing was there as his weapons were invisible, and his targets had seen only empty air.

Unlike most who wield mana for casting spells or enhancing physical abilities, Riley's control was of an entirely different nature.

While others used mana to chant or yell out spells and invoke Skills, Riley manipulated the very mana particles around him through his mind and sheer will.

As he simply closed his eyes, he expanded his senses and felt the subtle currents of mana around him. He had manipulated them to become both a barrier and a weapon, one that no naked eye could see, no untrained mind could anticipate. As he'd focused his intent, the particles thickened and the invisible walls folded in on themselves until they reached a pressure so intense that it tore flesh and shattered bone upon impact.

Those unfortunate enough to be caught in his grasp had no warning, only a brief glimpse of Riley standing calmly before their bodies were crushed to bloody paste.

For most, a place this dense with mana would have been a blessing, a sanctuary for power and healing. But in Riley's hands, it became a death zone, a place where mana was no longer a source of strength but as a silent, invisible reaper waiting at his command.

But his power didn't stop there, during his battle with Polyphemus, Riley had one idea in his mind that might be creative to see.

By harnessing the mana around him, he draws it into his body in a process as delicate as threading a needle. Each particle was pulled from the air, passing through the natural energy channels within him and formed a dense barrier that layered over his skin like an invisible armor.

The barrier was specific, not a blunt shield against all forms of harm, but an intricately tuned field of mana, selectively reactive to magical energies alone.

The principle was simple but profound with the mana particles he condensed and aligned around himself resonated at a frequency that repelled other forms of mana. This allowed the barrier to deflect magic, creating a kind of feedback loop where any magical energy, upon impact, was instantly scattered and dissipated along the surface of the barrier. Magic spells would collide with his field and be neutralized, their energy absorbed and redirected back into the atmosphere as harmless ambient mana.

However, the shield was designed to be transparent to non-magical physical attacks. Riley knew that altering the resonance to reject both magical and physical attacks would destabilize the field, requiring an immense and unsustainable amount of mana concentration to maintain.

Instead, he focused purely on blocking magical energy. Physical objects from swords, bullets, or even the shockwaves from explosions, would pass through the field unimpeded, as the barrier lacked the density or structure to stop them.

In essence, he had tuned his body's mana field like a frequency filter, one that absorbed and nullified only specific energy wavelengths associated with magic.

It was a delicate balance that required intense focus and constant monitoring, but it was also what made Riley nearly impervious to spellcasters. For as long as he maintained the barrier, any magical force would break harmlessly against him, leaving him free to close in and eliminate his enemies, until his limits, or his focus, wore thin.

But even though he had harnessed enough of this raw energy to crush an entire army, he was constantly aware of his limits, boundaries he had discovered all too quickly, despite the recentness of his abilities.

As much as he could manipulate the mana in the area as lethal weapons, his control was finite, bound by the concentration he could hold and the distance his will could reach. Beyond that fragile boundary, the mana flowed freely, beyond his grasp.

The gathered particles, though deadly in close quarters, became unruly and difficult to maintain as they spread outward. He could only condense and control them up to a certain point that is beyond that range as the particles would slip through his mental hold and scatter into the air like dust from a clenched fist.

Trying to exceed that limit risked exhausting him, he drained his own energy reserves and compromised his control over the nearby particles, so the invisible field of death he created to crush these hundred men could only extend so far, and no further.

Riley knew that in an open, mana-rich environment, he was a force to be reckoned with. But he also understood the risks of pushing past his limits. One misstep, one moment of overreach, and his control could shatter, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. In those moments, he was reminded that, for all his power, he was not invincible or a God, just a man wielding an extraordinary power, bound by its inherent constraints.

As Riley's crimson eyes glowed ever so bright, preparing for the execution, he looked through his captive's one eye and sighed.

Then, he ceased his initial plan.

'It would be a waste to just kill him. Since he's an executive member, I better collect as much information from him as possible.'

Riley had been having suspicions about the whole thing that had gone down, and he sensed that Polyphemus might hold the answers he needed. Using the barbarian to satisfy his curiosity wouldn't be difficult at all.

"But first..."

Riley's hand hovered just above its head before pressing his palm firmly against the cool rough skin and felt the pulse of mana hidden beneath the surface. He closed his eyes and centered his focus on the flow of energy within Polyphemus, this time using his power on a more precise level.

"It's a good thing I top chemistry besides economics," he muttered. "This stuff is tough."

Carefully, he extended his mana control, threading into the cyclops' skull.

Because the calculations he was doing were complex on a microscopic level, he had to pour all his operational power into his calculations in order to manipulate the tiny mana particles clustered around Polyphemus's neurons, syncing with the electric impulses like a perfect mesh and directed them to align with Riley's will.

"Fighting that bastard was worth it just for the creative ideas it gave me," Riley murmured to himself as he continued his precision work by isolating the frontal lobe and stimulating areas involved in reasoning and obedience.

Ordinarily, Transcendents were immune to low-level mind-control magic, with dense mana protecting their brains. But with Riley's skill, he turned that mana shield that protects his brain against Polyphemus.

Gradually, he guided his mana deeper, manipulating even the subtle chemical exchanges to calm any primal fight response.

Polyphemus's breathing slowed, and his single eye no longer glazed as he focused up on Riley with an unnatural clarity. The cyclops's jaw slackened and its massive frame were caught in a docile trance.

Now, the man's will was no longer his own.

He was reduced to nothing but Riley's slave.

Satisfied with his control, Riley opened his eyes and leaned down as he spoke in a low but clear voice.

"Polyphemus," Riley said, keeping the mana signals steady. "I have a few questions. Answer me as honestly and as accurately as possible. Understood?"

As Riley's voice echoed among the pile of flesh and blood, a shiver of resistance flickered in Polyphemus's brain, but with a gentle pulse of mana, Riley smoothed it out and guided him back into compliance.

Soon, the barbarian slowly nodded with his blank face as he opened his lips to speak in a deep voice, almost a whisper that rumbled in response.

"Yes... I understand." Polyphemus replied, each word syllable slow and methodical, aligned perfectly with Riley's control.

The first question Riley wanted to ask was the most pertinent one at the moment.

"Why did you attack us? Did Scyllary hire you? Or perhaps the three Obsidian Councilors on her side?"

Polyphemus shook his head in response to each question.

"No one hired us. Our leader decided we'd join Lady Klinton and her New Order."

Riley adjusted the mana frequency around Polyphemus's voice, lifting it into the air to broadcast everything he was confessing so that all ten witnesses could hear every word loud and clear.

"I see. Is it just your leader, or all of you?" he pressed.

Polyphemus responded in the same dull, hypnotized tone. "The words of the Leader are the words of the Gang. We all follow his wishes."

Riley nodded as he placed his hand to his mask's chin in thought.

'As I suspected from the very start. The Mercenary Gang can't be trusted.'

Perhaps Riley's relative detachment from the business underworld gave him an advantage here. The biases associated with certain principles didn't shake his thought process the same way they did to people like Ronald Rumpan. He had already suspected that the Mercenary Gang might involve itself in this conflict.

Still, Riley's knowledge was limited to mere guesses. For him to truly have something to work with, he needed more information and concrete answers.

"Why did your leader choose to join them? Did he tell you?" Riley asked.

Polyphemus's response came without hesitation. "Why else? The benefits far outweigh the alternatives. Those were his exact words..."

As Riley listened and mulled on Polyphemus's words, only one thing kept ringing in his mind.

It was a grim reality that he had to address.

'Ronald mentioned the reasons why the Mercenary Gang never chose a side, since it would hurt their business in the long term.'

However, there was an exception to the rule, a certain situation where such an alliance with a side wouldn't result in any detriment at all.

'...The absolute annihilation of the opposing side.'

If the Mercenary Gang had chosen the side destined to win, and if the losing side were absolutely removed from the map, there'd be no lingering hostility, no bad blood, and no long-term cost to them.

'Sure, they'd lose a few clients, but their influence would rise, and they'll get to plunder the spoils of the losing team.'

The Mercenary Gang could even claim their territories.

'And with the power and influence they wield, they're certainly capable of it.'

As Riley looked at Polyphemus's blank expression, he couldn't help but sigh in both worry and disappointment.

'Ronald's plans will need some reworking, or this could all fall apart.'

He glanced at the trembling caravan members, then at Yuri, who lay unconscious, and shook his head slightly.

"This is why I didn't want us playing it too safe. While the enemy makes bold moves, we're taking measured steps."

He hadn't interfered further with the plan because he lacked additional support from the Austronesian Government as they had larger concerns elsewhere.

'If things spiral, maybe I'll take action myself,' he thought. But for now, he would relay everything to Ronald and let him decide on the next steps.

'Just a few more questions, and I think we're done here.'

"Tell me more about your-"

Right as Riley was about to ask his question, his extraordinary senses warned him of something.

'Don't tell me...!'

In a flash, Riley leapt back and trapped Polyphemus in a barrier of mana. Inside the sphere, the ebony Cyclop's body suddenly began to expand, as if suddenly bloated. Like a balloon, he grew massive in size as every part of his body grew at an astronomical rate, as if filled with something forced into him.

Tears fell from his single eye, followed by streams of blood, the same thing happened with his mouth, nostrils and ears.

"H-help... meee..." Were the last words he uttered before meeting an inevitable end.

BOOOM!

The same way an overinflated balloon would pop after reaching its limit, Polyphemus burst and his body exploded into a grisly spray of flesh and blood. Inside Riley's barrier, the gory remains splattered against the walls, preventing any of the bloody flesh and thick blood from flying around.

Polyphemus died on the spot, his form unrecognizable from how it had been in the past.

'He was killed remotely, huh? Is it because he answered my questions? Was it automatic, or did someone activate it after knowing he revealed secrets?'

Riley had many questions, but it seemed he wouldn't be getting any here as the answers he tried to find had evaporated with the cyclops' final breath.

'Shame.'

------------------------

"U-urgh..."

Yuri's voice came out in a groggy murmur as she woke up, surprised to feel her body perfectly healthy and unharmed despite the wounds she remembered suffering before passing out.

As she blinked several times to clear her blurry vision and returned to normal, she noticed the ten people that stood around her.

"Miss Yuri! You're awake!"

"One of his subordinates said you'd be fine, but it's such a relief to see you well."

"Miss Yuri!"

As Yuri's blurry vision soon returned to normal, she was able to see the concerned expressions of the caravan members.

'They're all safe. I'm also perfectly fine. Sir Ghost must have helped...' she thought, piecing together the only explanation that made sense.

With a small nod, she rose slowly from the ground and took in her surroundings. They were within a large, protective golden dome, spacious enough for everyone to move around comfortably.

'Sir Ghost must have erected this,' she concluded, unaware of the way her faith in him caused a certain elf soldier to have a heartache and feel a pang of jealousy.

She could also see the merchandise safely placed in a corner within the barrier around them, and beyond it, she could see the charred surfaces of earth.

"What... happened here?" Yuri found herself whispering, feeling a sense of awe.

"Sir Ghost happened!"

"He killed all of them in the blink of an eye and burned their corpses."

"Yes. I don't think I've ever seen a man so powerful and ruthless."

As the caravan members described the scene in vivid detail, she couldn't help but remember how foolish she had been to think he was gentle, perhaps even soft in the past.

During their journey, he had always refrained from killing, leaving that grim duty to her alone and never getting to witness him in action, so she considered him too merciful.

Now, hearing what he'd done, she realized just how wrong she'd been. She wasn't only impressed, she was amazed!

"So, where is Sir Ghost now?" She asked, looking around her once again, but not seeing him anywhere.

""He left, saying he had something to do related to the Warehouse, as part of his agreement with Lord Rumpan."

"I... see..."

Yuri knew the Warehouse that was mentioned. It was the place where the Magic Artifacts they planned to trade with the Fairies were stored.

'I trust Sir Ghost, so I'll leave everything in his hands.'

With a quiet sigh, she turned back to the caravan members and offered them a gentle smile.

"I'm so glad you're all safe."

They responded with the same relief, some rushing forward to hug her with gratitude and intense emotion.

'I must have worried them all...' Her smile softened a bit more.

She promised herself she wouldn't ever allow be so careless again. For the sake of her family and those she protected, she had to control her emotions and make the right choices.

She couldn't afford to lose any more people.

"By the way, Miss Yuri... there's something you should know."

The courier's words changed the atmosphere inside the dome. Everyone looked at her with worried expressions on their faces, and the anxiety was stifling.

"What is it? What's going on?" she asked, feeling both curious and increasingly uneasy.

"The Mercenary Gang has sided with the enemy, Miss Yuri."

"W-what?!" Her loud voice rang out, but her shock was completely understandable. A crucial part of their plan had depended on securing the Mercenary Gang's support.

"It's true. Sir Ghost interrogated Polyphemus before he... well, before he died. He managed to extract the information."

"So we can no longer rely on their support."

This was serious news to Yuri, but she honestly had no energy to properly react to what she was hearing. She was already worn down, and this added blow only deepened her fatigue.

"We wouldn't have been able to pay them anyway," someone added quietly. "Our funds are stretched too thin as it is."

This trade was supposed to help the ExRump Corporation with some of their finances, the first of many trades to help them generate enough funds for the conflict to come. But, with the way things were now, they weren't going to get in the green anytime soon.

"Damn it. Looks like we're back to the drawing board," she muttered, gritting her teeth in frustration.

She could only pray that Lord Ronald Rumpan and Lord Barron(Elon) had some backup plan in place.

'Right now, we're in a very dangerous position.'

The only thing keeping them afloat was Ghost's support. If he weren't an ally, things would have been much worse.

'I don't even want to imagine how they would be if he was our enemy.

At least, for now, she knew they were in the best possible position under the circumstances. All they needed was a bit of luck.

Looking up, she fixed her gaze on the night sky, and she smiled sadly

"Please return safely, Sir Ghost."

------------------------

"So this is the place..."

Somewhere in the city, Riley and his team gathered in a small space. After witnessing that battle, everyone was utterly astonished how their leader fought with magic now, none more so than Polites, who now felt a tinge of self-doubt, realizing he was no longer the strongest in physical or magical skill.

But Riley quickly redirected their attention to the mission. He unfurled a map before the group, then, with a flick of his fingers, manipulated the mana around him to project a magical projection. A detailed, three-dimensional image of the warehouse and its surroundings appeared, glowing softly in the dim light.

On the display, the warehouse was surrounded by what seemed to be considerably large mountains.

"Though we know they're not really mountains," Mason pointed out.

"Exactly," Riley confirmed. "The entire warehouse complex is hidden underground, connected by a network of paths stretching from one peak to another."

"The ExRump sure is resourceful." Tavish said, observing the ten Mountains clustered together, he and the others knew that this was the right location.

"How big does a place have to be to store enough magical artifacts for an entire fairy civilization?" Woods wondered aloud.

"Oh, it's impressive, alright..."

As the conversation carried on, Riley, who was crossing his arms, considered his next move. His mind flashed back to an old agreement.

'I haven't forgotten about our deal, Ronalf. However, since that is a remote area and there seems to be a lot of flaws in your plan... I think it's time I offer a little extra help.'

With that, he pulled out his radio and tuned it to a specific channel.

[Hello?]

"Price, you near the site?"

[Yes, Captain. Only a few miles out.]

"Good. You remember the plan?"

------------------------

Meanwhile, in the dim, metallic belly of a nuclear submarine, a lone figure in a black trench coat stood in the center of a narrow compartment. Shadows clung to the walls, illuminated only by the cold, faint glow of overhead lights that cast an eerie, flickering glow across his face. The soft hum of machinery and the subtle thrum of ocean currents pressing against the hull were the only sounds in the otherwise dead silence.

The man held a radio to his mouth with his gloved fingers tapping lightly against its side as if in anticipation. His gaze was focused and unyielding with a calm but tinged expression with a trace of something darker. After a pause, he responded with a smooth and cold voice.

"I do..." he murmured confidently that bordered on menace. A faint smile played on his lips as his eyes flickered with an unnatural dark purple glow, an ominous light that pulsed with a barely contained energy.

His hand clenched briefly, and a spark of that same purple energy danced at his fingertips, casting a ghostly reflection onto the polished metal at his feet. He straightened, glancing around the cramped room, and his smile widened, faintly amused by the silent tension around him.

"And I think," he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, filled with an icy resolve, "It might be time to go to... extreme measures."

*

*

*

*

*

A/n: Who was this person? Is it a new enemy? A new threat? A powerful being from another Civilization? Who knows! And where is Price?

All I could say is that this being right there is a very powerful one.

Anyways, what are your thoughts on this chapter? Let me hear your thoughts!

And also, thanks for reading, make sure to vote and be notified for more chapters!