OLD-WORLD EXTRA C.449: Ignorant Prey III

Without even looking, Wit flicked his wrist, sending both the glaive and Quinn's body to the ground as if she weighed nothing.

The motion was dismissive-like tossing away a piece of paper.

She hit the ground hard, unconscious, barely alive.

But that didn't stop her.

Whether it was her will, her augmented body, or a mix of both, she had her last say.

She wouldn't uselessly bow out of the fight like last time!

With trembling hands, Quinn grasped the glaive, wincing as she slowly pulled it out of her body, inch by agonizing inch, blood pooling around the wound.

When she finally yanked it free, a torrent of blood splattered around her, painting the ground in deep red.

Her hands paused, trembling more as the blood loss took its toll, the world around her darkening even further.

She tried to throw the glaive back to Junior, but her strength failed.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her arms let go of the glaive, allowing it to fall back toward its previous home.

Before she could do anything to protect herself, or even muster another breath, her body collapsed, slipping into a deep sleep.

Elijah glancing away from Wit, finally noticed her struggle and imminent execution.

He acted without hesitation, using his Distant Grasp to catch the falling glaive mid-air and push it toward Junior.

But just as the weapon left his control, a deep, sinking feeling spread through his gut, and he collapsed to the ground.

Confusion clouded his mind until he looked down at his leg-a chunk of his right thigh was gone, burnt away, the remaining flesh still sizzling from the heat.

Gritting his teeth, he extended a trembling hand, desperately trying to summon his Spectral Scythe, but each attempt only ended in failure.

"F-fuck..."

Elijah had already swallowed a handful of old-world medicines, but they didn't help; only dulled the pain.

His mind raced, unable to process the overwhelming reality.

'Why aren't they helping?!'

They were going to die.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He couldn't even beg, his throat choked up.

The Shadow Squad, meant to watch over them, hadn't interfered-not even as their deaths became inevitable.

There could be only two reasons for that.

Either they couldn't, tied up with something far worse...

Or his big brother had abandoned him.

The sinking feeling in Elijah's gut deepened.

'No way... right?'

His thoughts spiraled in disbelief, grappling with what seemed to be the most likely option. He, Elijah Oliver, was left to die.

Calling it a painful realization did it a disservice.

It had already happened once when his first family had cut him loose; for it to happen again felt utterly unimaginable.

While he battled his inner turmoil, slowly falling into slumber, Wit shifted his gaze to Junior -the last one still standing.

Wit expected to see panic, the same terror that gripped the others.

But Junior was calm.

Not with fear, but with a quiet resolve, as if he had already accepted his death.

It threw Wit off, just for a moment.

This scene was a stark contrast to the last time when Elijah remained conscious to the end while Junior was knocked out early.

Now, the roles were reversed.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, though.

Junior had found his fighting style.

While it wasn't typical for someone of his size to adopt such a method-especially when compared to Evan, who was much bigger but wielded a smaller kite shield and long sword instead of a heavy wall shield and glaive-it suited him.

This approach significantly increased his survivability many times over, allowing him to maneuver with surprising agility while still packing a punch.

"I won't die easy."

Junior raised his kite shield, his eyes narrowing as he faced down the Hell Weaver.

His Aetheric Bulwark flared to life in front of Wit, an attempt at blocking him from immediately attacking and ending his life.

Naturally, he knew the odds of him landing a hit were impossible, but he was a Knight, and Knights didn't back down.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

He charged forward with a roar, thrusting his glaive with all his might.

Wit tracked the blade as it neared him, and just as Junior deactivated his bulwark to let it through, he sidestepped, letting it sail past.

But Junior wasn't stopping there.

He pulled back the glaive and let go for a moment, gripping further up the steel pole.

Then he swung at Wit, the blade slicing through the air to meet him.

Wit, instead of backing up, stepped closer to Junior, stopping an inch away from his face. The blade paused, striking nothing but air, the pole hitting Wit's body.

It was stuck.

Junior let go of his weapon and launched himself at Wit, employing one of his newly learned

skills.

He pushed against the back of Wit's knee with his left leg while both hands shot for Wit's neck, twisting his body as he fell forward and spun to the left, hoping to drag Wit down with

him.

Wit grunted, nearly losing his balance, but his expression remained unchanged-no shock, no concern, just cold amusement.

He quickly adjusted, straightening his knees and stabilizing himself, leaving Junior to hang off him like a monkey on a tree.

Then, without a word, Wit turned to Junior and flashed a toothy smile, fire seeping through

his teeth.

His Dragon's Breath surged the moment he opened his mouth, moving with terrifying speed.

Junior instinctively jumped back, ducking behind his shield just in time.

He was pushed back even further as the flames licked at his face.

Wits followed as Junior retreated, his beam of fire bearing down on him.

Junior gritted his teeth, feeling his face almost melt as he was forced onto his knees, the last

of his strength near giving out.

But then...

BOOM!

He smiled.

The ground beneath Wit erupted in a violent explosion, engulfing him and forcing him to halt

his attack.

In a nearby corner, Aria, who was previously healed just enough to survive, had passed out, happy that she had finally gotten a hit in.

"Damn bastard."

Junior threw his shield away, unable to carry it anymore as his left hand was burnt to a crisp,

and stood up, his right barely holding onto his glaive.

He took a deep breath and stepped through the Seed Burst's smoke.

Then, with all the Aether he could muster, he chanted:

"HONORABLE DUEL!"

The ability sent out a wave of Aether that challenged Wit, and a strengthened Junior swung

down, using his entire body in the attack.

"I've had enough." ...Those were the last three words he heard, and unlike all the others, they were laced with

anger.

Junior didn't know what happened.

He didn't have time to process it.

In the split second it took him to swing down, a waft of flame materialized, and Wit appeared

behind him, his grip crushing Junior's neck.

The pitiful student dropped on his glaive, joining the rest of his cohort in slumber.

What Wit did next brought them even closer, in a literal sense, as he used his Lava Whip,

pulling them to the center of the passageway.

Then, with a casual snap of his fingers, the air around him vibrated, and an ominous blue orb

of fire materialized in the middle of them.

It condensed slowly and descended, reaching the ground.

"Lord, forgive me. I sacrifice these ignorant prey to you. I hope that you are pleased..."

Wit paused for a second, appearing to be unsure of his words.

"Is that what the priests say, or am I fucking it up?"

After a moment of thought, he shrugged his shoulders.

'It doesn't matter anyway. No one's listening, I don't need to act.'

He lowered his arm and the orb began its descent.

But just before the orb could touch the tiles, the ground beneath them trembled, much

rougher than it had before.

A rumbling sound echoed through the passageway, and suddenly, the earth around the orb shifted, and thick walls of rock erupted, encasing the deadly sphere in a cocoon of solid stone.

The orb exploded, and the heat caused the stone to glow red-hot, but it held firm, containing death within.

In moments, the cocoon sank into the earth, taking the orb with it.

"Hm...?"

Wit's eyes showed a new emotion, surprise, as he turned to face the source of the interference.

'It's been prophetized that no one would play against me... Did the Lady sell a lie to me?'

Emerging from the shadows, a familiar figure stepped forward, wearing something entirely distinctive.

It was a black Sherwani.

Wit's expression darkened as he assessed the newcomer, his annoyance evident.

For the first time, he seemed to take the situation seriously.