Chapter 95 No one would showing up
941 Words
The mother’s face drained of all color. She lunged forward, throwing her full weight against the middle-aged man—only to rebound as if she’d slammed into a mountain, landing hard on her backside.
Ignoring the pain, she scrambled to her daughter’s side and yanked her hand.
“Run! Come on, baby, run with Mom!”
But the girl didn’t budge. Her tiny frame felt like solid iron—immovable, rooted to the spot.
Staring into her daughter’s vacant eyes, the woman’s panic turned to pure terror.
She’d heard the rumors—ghosts haunting the district, cursed bills scattered like traps. She’d been careful. Yet here it was: the nightmare made real.
*Who is this man? Is he a demon risen from hell itself?*
She wrapped her arms around her child, vowing never to let go, and screamed at the top of her lungs:
“Help! Somebody, please!”
“Is anyone out there? Save us!”
“Save my child!”
Her voice cracked, words tumbling out incoherently—but primal instinct drove her to keep shouting.
Yet in this district, fear ruled. No one dared intervene.
The few pedestrians still on the street vanished instantly. The bolder ones watched from a full block away; the rest slammed shutters and locked doors.
The Acolyte ignored her desperate cries. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and smiled—savoring the moment like a connoisseur of despair.
“Alright, that’s enough screaming,” he said pleasantly. “You didn’t actually think someone would come running, did you?”
“The Lord protects His faithful. But you? You’re just… noise.”
“Don’t worry, though. The Lord will care for this child far better than you ever could.”
Having indulged his sadistic thrill, he grew bored. With a light tap to the girl’s forehead, she turned obediently and began walking—dragging her mother behind her like dead weight, as if possessed by unnatural strength.
“There, there,” he said, pulling up his hood. “Face reality. You know what reality is? No one would showing up.”
Dark crimson energy swirled around his hand as he raised it—ready to erase all evidence.
Clang!
A sharp metallic ring cut through the air.
His strike halted mid-motion, blocked by a golden short baton.
He blinked—completely failing to register how the young man in front of him had appeared so suddenly.
*Was that a teleportation superpower?!*
“You want to continue that little speech about ‘reality’?” Adam asked, one hand casually holding the Faith Baton, halting the Acolyte’s descending arm. “Something about 'no one would showing up'?”
Frost crackled along the baton, instantly freezing the dark energy coating the Acolyte’s hand solid.
Wham!
With a flick of his wrist, Adam sent the man flying backward ten meters, skidding across the pavement.
The Acolyte stared at Adam, then at Henry sprinting up behind him, and muttered, “So… you’re the university students they sent?”
He let out a dry chuckle. “After ignoring this place for weeks, the UHG finally responds—by delivering fresh meat.”
Before the last word left his mouth, he blurred forward, fist c****d back for a devastating strike.
Adam didn’t flinch. He threw his own punch—*after* the Acolyte had already committed.
Yet his fist landed first.
It met the Acolyte’s knuckles just as the man’s arm was still extending—crushing momentum with brutal precision.
Lately, Adam had been sparring daily with a 2.2-meter-tall human wrecking ball named Levin.
He hadn’t even realized how much raw physical power he’d gained from those sessions.
BOOM!
A sickening crunch followed by a blood-curdling scream.
Adam rocked back slightly, effortlessly dispersing the recoil—no superpower, just overwhelming physicality.
The Acolyte collapsed, clutching his wrist. Bone jutted through torn skin at a grotesque angle.
"That’s all you got?"
He’d hit with the same force he’d use against Levin.
“I’ve got a different take on your ‘reality’ theory,” Adam said coolly. “Turns out…I’m your reality.”
The Acolyte didn’t waste breath arguing. Pain contorted his face as he glared up, thoughts racing:
*Is this guy a professor? Since when do instructors look like undergrads?!*
Gritting his teeth, he spat, “So what? Think you’re strong? Doesn’t matter—you’re too late.”
He nodded toward the hollow-eyed girl still standing nearby.
“Oh?” Adam arched a brow. He tapped the Faith Baton gently against the girl’s forehead.
Instantly, a wisp of corrupted faith-energy unraveled from her and flowed into the baton.
Her eyes cleared. She blinked, saw her mother sobbing on the ground, and whispered, “Mom? What’s wrong?”
The Acolyte’s jaw dropped. “What did you just do?!”
Adam shrugged. “Life’s full of surprises. Get used to it.”
*What kind of trash-talk is that during a fight?!* the Acolyte thought, already turning to flee.
Eight spectral chains erupted from Adam’s back—snaking through the air like mechanical limbs—and he shot forward in pursuit.
“Stay here,” Adam called over his shoulder to Henry. “Take care of them.”
The chase tore through the empty streets—predator and prey, each with their own agenda.
The Acolyte, clutching his shattered wrist, thought:
*He’s actually chasing me alone? Fool! Once I reach the others, we’ll tear him apart.*
Behind him, Adam’s inner monologue was far less dramatic:
*Damn, this guy’s slow as hell.*
*Gotta ease up a little—keep him alive long enough to lead me to the rest.*
*Would suck if I caught him too fast.*
- Writer
