Chapter 228: Apprehension
Red staggered half a step back as the pain settled deeper into his body. But this time it didn’t fade the way it always had.
The familiar sensation of his flesh knitting itself back together came slower and weaker, as if something inside him had lost its rhythm.
His grin, which had never left his face until now, gradually faltered as the corners of his lips lowered and the wild excitement in his eyes dimmed. Revealing far more grounded expressions beneath the surface. Which was a worry.
His breathing grew heavier as his gaze dropped briefly toward the wounds carved into his body. He finally truly registered them as they were.
They remained open, raw, and stubborn, refusing to close at the speed he had expected like earlier. The delay was small but in a fight like this it was enough to be dangerous and disrupt the absolute confidence he had carried until now.
"Why...?"
The thought cut through his mind sharply as his expression tightened and his focus turned inward.
He no longer looked like an unhinged predator reveling in violence. Instead, he looked like a man trying to understand something slipping beyond his control.
His mind moved quickly, dragging itself back through the moments that had just passed, searching for the cause of this change. It didn’t take long for one figure to surface clearly.
Michael.
The memory of the attack returned with clarity as he recalled the overwhelming pressure, the dark flames, and the force that had pinned him down.
The intensity of that moment lingered in his thoughts as suspicion began to form.
"Was it him...?" His jaw clenched tightly as the possibility settled in. "Did that bastard take something from me?"
The thought twisted immediately into anger as his gaze snapped toward the direction where he had last seen Michael fall.
His eyes narrowed sharply, filled with irritation and rising rage. But when he looked, the spot was empty.
Michael’s body was gone.
That absence darkened Red’s expression further as uncertainty crept in beneath the anger. He couldn’t confirm what had happened. He couldn’t see the corpse so he couldn’t verify the result with his own eyes. That lack of certainty gnawed at him.
Still, he had used his blade. A weapon imbued with his own power.
Even if Michael hadn’t died instantly, there was no way he would survive long in that condition.
"..He’s dead," Red muttered under his breath. But the words lacked complete confidence.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
His focus shifted. Slowly, Red straightened his posture and lifted his gaze back toward Myles.
The concern remained faintly in his expression, but it blended now with a sharper and a colder expression. Hatred surfaced again, steady and clear, yet beneath it lingered an apprehension.
There was something wrong with this opponent. Something that didn’t fit. Myles didn’t feel like the others.
Red’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him more closely, sensing the flow of power surrounding him.
It wasn’t chaotic or unstable or did it feel borrowed or forced. Instead, it felt rooted, grounded, and consistent. That made his instincts tighten.
"This... this is real power..."
The realization formed quietly as a flicker of recognition passed through his mind. It reminded him of the familiar and recent event, the brief moment earlier when Michael had stood against him with that overwhelming force that he didn’t have before.
But this was different. This didn’t feel temporary.
Myles stood there steadily. His presence was unwavering. His strength was consistent. That made Red uneasy in a way he hadn’t felt since the battle began.
For the first time, he didn’t feel like he completely controlled the fight.
Slowly, he raised his serrated purple short sword again. The blade was still stained with blood as he pointed it toward Myles.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice lower, stripped of its earlier madness and filled instead with a sharp and searching edge.
Myles didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on Red, calm yet cautious as he assessed him in return.
The faint flicker of that hot blood aura still lingered around Red’s body, Myles could feel the threat it carried even from a distance.
"That power... if it touches me directly it’ll corrupt me." Myles thought. His grip tightened slightly around Fangblade as his thoughts sharpened. "I can’t fight him the same way anymore. I need to control this."
Only after that pause did he respond.
"Just a survivor like you." Myles said. His tone came out flat and curt, offering nothing more.
Red stared at him for a moment longer before a crooked sneer slowly pulled at his lips, though it lacked the earlier madness.
"Is that so?" he said, tilting his head slightly as if considering the answer. "Then why don’t we work together? We could take everything here. No one could stop us."
His voice carried a strange calm despite the destruction surrounding them.
Myles let out a short snort through his nose as a faint, crooked smile formed on his face, though there was no humor in it.
"Work together?" he repeated, shaking his head slightly as his eyes hardened. "With you? That’s like turning my back on a venomous snake and hoping it doesn’t bite."
Red chuckled softly at that, the sound low and rough as his grip on his weapon tightened again. "What a shame."
For a moment, silence settled between them once more, broken only by the distant chaos of the battlefield that continued to rage without pause.
Then Myles spoke again, his gaze sharpening slightly.
"How did you get that power?"
Red’s grin returned faintly, though it remained far more controlled than before.
"It just came to me," he answered simply. Nothing more.
Myles’s eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed the response. "As expected, it is useless to ask."
He didn’t press further. There was no reason to waste time.
Without another word, his body moved as the ground beneath him cracked under the force of his step. In the next instant he lunged forward, closing the distance between them as Fangblade slashes through the air with precise killing intent, restarting the clash without hesitation.
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