Chapter 97 The sword
975 Words
“Go!” came the command.
Every Acolyte surged forward at once, converging on Adam from all sides. Their formation was tight—designed to overwhelm him before he could react.
They’d assessed him as peak level-4. Dangerous, yes—but manageable with coordinated force.
Adam closed his eyes, activating *Hearing of Everything* without hesitation.
Frost surged from his body—but to his surprise, his ice couldn’t extend beyond five meters. Beyond that, it crawled like molasses, as if choked by some invisible field.
The lead Acolyte laughed. “Too late! In here, your superpowers don’t work—”
But his gloating died mid-sentence.
The injured Acolyte—the one Adam had chased—suddenly froze in horror.
*Wait… this guy didn’t use ice before!*
Something was wrong.
**c***k!**
Adam’s short baton, now sheathed in glacial ice, slammed into the laughing Acolyte’s skull.
His lower body kept charging forward—but his upper torso snapped backward so violently, he folded like a broken shrimp, head nearly touching his heels before collapsing in a heap.
“Watch out!” the injured Acolyte finally shouted. “His power’s not what it seems! He wasn’t like this before!”
The attackers hesitated. Seeing their comrade crumpled on the floor and hearing the warning, they held back.
Then—cold.
Not just cold. *Absolute Freezing.*
The SSS-rated superpower roared back to life. Though still slightly dampened by the suppression field, its sheer quality overwhelmed the interference.
In the pitch-black factory, Adam moved like a ghost—unhindered by darkness, while the Acolytes fumbled in their own infrared goggles, disoriented by the sudden reversal.
He tore through their ranks like a predator among prey. Their formation shattered instantly. Panic spread.
“Since when is this level-4? Are you insane?!” one screamed.
“This is level-5! Weren’t we told they sent *students*?!”
“Level-5? Is that Levin in disguise? Did he get plastic surgery?!”
“Agh—my head!” another howled as Adam’s *Headshot Lock* crushed his skull.
What had been a disciplined strike force devolved into chaos. Without a true leader—no level-5 among them—they had no answer once the tide turned.
From the shadows, a desperate voice cut through the noise:
“Do it! Bring out the *Sword*!”
“But we’ve only got a few uses left!”
“Now! Use it!”
Adam frowned, trying to parse their words—when a primal alarm screamed in his mind.
A blade-sharp killing intent lanced at his back.
He twisted just in time—but not fast enough. A gash opened across his cheek.
It healed instantly, but the speed stunned him. One second they spoke—the next, the *sword* was already there.
*Where is the sword?* he demanded silently, querying *Hearing of Everything*.
The answer was madness.
*Everywhere.*
The entire space—walls, ceiling, air—resonated with the hum of blades. Thousands. Tens of thousands. A storm of flying swords, all locked onto his heart.
*Impossible.* There wasn’t enough room in this warehouse for that many weapons.
“s**t,” Adam muttered, eyes narrowing.
This had to be a high-tier Sequence Weapon.
Blind and deafened by the cacophony of sword-song, he couldn’t track the real threat. All he could do was dodge.
He flipped, twisted, rolled—dodging strikes he couldn’t see, couldn’t freeze, couldn’t bind. It was like being trapped in a divine execution array.
He dared not take a direct hit. Even with his *Demigod’s Body*, he wasn’t sure if instant perforation would outpace his regeneration.
His mind raced for solutions—but the pressure mounted. He could feel it: the blades weren’t just attacking. They were *charging* something. A killing intent focused on his core.
And this time… he wouldn’t dodge it.
For the first time in months, death brushed his skin.
Rage surged. Bloodlust flooded his thoughts. His vision began to blur at the edges—reason slipping away.
***BOOM!***
A deafening explosion tore through the wall.
Sunlight flooded the chamber.
A massive figure crashed through concrete and lead plating alike—Levin—slamming into Adam and hurling him clear just as the killing strike landed.
But the black sword pierced Levin’s abdomen, tip bursting through his back.
Adam hit the ground, gasping. He looked up—and saw Levin standing over him, blood dripping from his lips.
There were no thousands of swords.
Just one.
Held by a single figure: black hair, black eyes, black coat. Expressionless. Motionless.
The Acolytes, seeing a second level-5 arrive, exchanged panicked glances and fled without hesitation.
“Tch,” Levin grunted, blood trickling down his chin. “You i***t… still couldn’t dodge?”
“If you die, how the hell am I supposed to explain that to the university?”
***Vvvvvrrrrrr—***
The sword sang as its wielder yanked it free from Levin’s gut.
Then—silence. The figure stood like a corpse, unmoving.
“Go after the others,” Levin ordered, voice strained. “Catch at least one. I’ll handle this one.”
“No,” Adam said flatly, eyes locked on the wound in Levin’s side. “You’re hurt. And he’s not easy.”
Before the words fully left his mouth, the sword aura erupted again—vast, suffocating.
Adam reacted instantly. He whipped his *Energy Chains* around Levin and hurled him backward out of range.
Then—Adam *charged*.
He took the full brunt of the sword intent head-on. Blood erupted across his body in dozens of thin lines—but his chains lashed out, wrapping around the swordsman’s waist.
The moment the chain made contact, *Hearing of Everything* delivered something it never had before:
A human voice.
Not ambient noise. Not echoes. A *plea*.
And it froze Adam to his core.
**[Hadrian Russell: Kill me!]**
**[Hadrian Russell: Please… just kill me!]**
- Writer
