Chapter 589: 589. Asking For Mercy To Survive Isn’t Something I Could Give Easily!
Taiga, the man who had prided himself on stoic composure, finally broke. As he watched the red rain of Gale’s remains coat the plaza, a high-pitched, primal scream tore from his throat.
"NO! NOOOOOOOOO, NOT ME! ANYTHING BUT ME!"
He scrambled to his feet, his boots slipping in the gore, and tried to bolt. He threw himself toward the edge of the plaza, desperate to find any gap or weakness in the invisible cage.
But every time he reached the boundary of Rex’s influence, he slammed into the telekinetic force field as if hitting a wall of solid diamond. The impact sent jarring vibrations through his bones, throwing him back toward the center of the slaughterhouse.
Rex, watching the frantic, pathetic display, let out a low, mocking chuckle behind his own mask. The sound was muffled but dripping with sadistic amusement.
"Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Taiga," Rex taunted, his voice smooth and condescending. "It’s just physics."
"A little tension, a little pressure... it’s nothing to get worked up about," Rex laughed. "You’re making a scene."
"YOU MONSTER!" Verakis screamed, his eyes bloodshot with fury.
He couldn’t stand the sight of Taiga’s terror any longer. He channeled every ounce of his remaining strength into a desperate, lunging strike, aiming to cleave Rex in two.
Rex didn’t even turn to face him. Without breaking eye contact with the trembling Taiga, he simply flicked a finger.
A massive, invisible hammer of telekinetic force slammed into Verakis’s chest mid-leap.
CRUNCH!
Verakis was sent flying backward, tumbling across the stone like a discarded toy, crashing into a pillar with a sickening thud that left him groaning and incapacitated.
"Stay out of the front row, Verakis," Rex commanded, his voice hardening. "I’m trying to have a moment with our guest."
Taiga was backed into a corner, his breath coming in frantic, shallow gulps. He looked at the carnage, then at the cold, predatory eyes of Rex, and realized there was no escape.
There was no running, no fighting, and no hiding. The geometry of his death was already written.
In a final, desperate act of defiance or perhaps a plea for an end to the agony, Taiga reached for a jagged shard of stone near his feet. With a guttural cry of "JUST END IT!" he lunged toward the shard, intending to drive it into his own throat, to take his life on his own terms before Rex could dismantle him.
"Going somewhere?" Rex asked.
Before the stone could even graze Taiga’s skin, the world seemed to freeze. Taiga felt an invisible hand wrap around his wrist, stopping his motion with such suddenness that his joints screamed in protest.
He was suspended in a state of agonizing tension, the shard of stone hovering a mere millimeter from his jugular.
Rex began to walk toward him, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
"Suicide? How uninspired," Rex whispered, his voice growing closer and more terrifying. "You think you can cheat the curriculum?"
"You think you can skip the final exam just because you’re scared of the grade?"
He tightened the telekinetic grip on Taiga’s wrist, forcing the man to stand upright and face him. "I didn’t give you permission to die, Taiga."
"You don’t get to leave until I’ve finished studying you."
Rex’s eyes gleamed with a dark, hungry light. "Now... let’s see how much internal pressure your lungs can take before they... pop."
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH! TAKE THIS! JUST TAKE IT!" Taiga’s scream was no longer human; it was the sound of a man completely unraveled.
In a frantic, suicidal burst of desperation, he tapped into the very core of his energy, forcing it out of his body in a violent, uncontrolled explosion of magic. He unleashed waves of raw, jagged energy meant to blast Rex backward, to create a vacuum of power that would force the monster to give him space.
But Rex didn’t even flinch.
As the torrent of magical energy roared toward him, Rex simply began to walk. He moved with a terrifying, slow deliberation, stepping through the chaos as if he were walking through a light summer breeze.
With subtle, precise flickers of his mind, Rex used his telekinesis to catch the incoming magical bolts. He didn’t just block them; he deflected them.
He caught the jagged arcs of power and swiveled them, redirecting the force with the casual grace of a conductor leading an orchestra.
"Is that all?" Rex taunted, his voice cutting through the roar of the magic. "You’re throwing your life away like it’s common gravel!"
"Use more intent, Taiga! Give me something to work with!"
But Taiga’s magic was too wild, too unrefined. Because Rex was using his telekinesis to bend the energy rather than simply absorbing it, the magic didn’t dissipate; it intensified.
The deflected waves of power surged outward in chaotic, redirected loops. The magical discharge slammed into the innocent bystanders who had been trying to flee the plaza.
"Help! The magic! It’s turning on us!" a woman screamed, only to be vaporized instantly as a redirected bolt of Taiga’s energy tore through her.
The plaza became a slaughterhouse of redirected fury; the very power Taiga used to try and save himself was being used by Rex to turn the crowd into a chaotic meat grinder. People were being blasted into walls, incinerated, or crushed by the sheer pressure of the redirected energy.
Taiga watched in horror, his eyes wide and bloodshot, as his own essence became the instrument of a massacre. "No... no, stop! Stop it!"
"It’s me! It’s my magic!" he wailed, but the more he panicked, the more magic he leaked, and the more Rex manipulated it.
Finally, the magical storm reached a crescendo and then suddenly, violently, snapped into silence. Rex had redirected the final, massive wave of energy into the ground, creating a crater that shook the entire district.
As the dust and magical embers settled, Taiga found himself gasping for air, his mana reserves nearly depleted. He looked up, trembling, and his heart nearly stopped.
Rex was standing right in front of him.
He hadn’t moved an inch from his original path. He stood there, unblemished, his clothes not even singed, his expression one of mild, bored curiosity.
The sheer proximity of his overwhelming, suffocating aura was more terrifying than the magic itself. The predator was no longer at a distance; the predator was in his space, breathing the same air, looking down at him with eyes that promised a slow, agonizing end.
The terror reached a breaking point. Taiga’s legs turned to jelly, and a warm, humiliating sensation spread down his thighs.
A dark stain bloomed on his trousers as he uncontrollably pissed himself, the sound of his heavy, wet sobbing the only thing breaking the silence of the ruined plaza. He was a broken man, stripped of his dignity, his magic, and his hope, staring up at the god of death who was about to begin his work.
Rex didn’t bother with the theatrics of tearing or pulling this time. He wanted to see something more... internal. He wanted to witness the exact moment a soul realizes its vessel can no longer contain the pressure of its own existence.
"You’ve used a lot of energy, Taiga," Rex whispered, leaning in so close that Taiga could see his own terrified, tear-streaked reflection in the dark visor of Rex’s mask. "You’re practically hollow."
"Let’s fill that void with something else," Rex smirked. "Let’s fill it with... expansion."
Rex closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, focusing his telekinetic will not on Taiga’s skin but on the very fluids within him.
Taiga’s eyes suddenly bulged. A sound, unlike any scream before, began to rise from his throat, a wet, gurgling sound of someone trying to scream while drowning in their own essence.
Inside his body, the telekinetic force was acting like a thousand microscopic balloons being inflated simultaneously. His veins began to throb and bulge, turning a dark, sickly purple against his skin.
His abdomen distended unnaturally, the skin stretching so thin it became translucent, revealing the frantic, churning movement of his organs being pushed outward by the invisible pressure.
"G-GURRRRGH... HHHH..." Taiga’s voice was a choked, bubbling mess.
His eyes were bloodshot, the capillaries bursting one by one until the whites were entirely crimson. He was expanding from the inside out, his body becoming a taut, vibrating drum of pressurized blood and gas.
From the sidelines, Verakis watched, his soul trembling. He had seen many deaths, but this was a violation of the natural order.
To see a man become a living bomb, a vessel of pure, pressurized agony, was a horror beyond comprehension.
"Stop... please, Rex... have mercy..." Verakis croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
At the sound of his name, Rex paused. He didn’t turn his whole body; he simply tilted his head toward Verakis. As he did, the mask he wore began to pulse.
A deep, malevolent red light began to bleed from the seams of the visor, casting a long, bloody shadow across the plaza. The light was predatory, a silent declaration of intent.
Rex knew exactly who Verakis was. He knew the lineage, the strength, and the prestige of the Legion of the Anti-Reincarnator.
To Rex, Verakis wasn’t just another victim; he was a rare vintage, a high-quality specimen that deserved a much more sophisticated deconstruction.
"Don’t look away, Verakis," Rex said, his voice vibrating with a dark, melodic resonance that seemed to come from the air itself. "Pay attention."
"This is the most important lesson of your life."
