Revived?
Roy felt his scalp go numb as he watched Faceless's bisected body reassemble as though time were reversing itself—even the charred flesh around his neck restored to its original healthy state.
Akatsuki definitely didn't possess this ability. Though Roy's memory was hazy, he could say with certainty that Akatsuki had no power to resurrect others—nor even healing capabilities, for that matter.
This resurrection had to be either the faceless man's own power or another hidden Orga Lux capable of revival he possessed.
Just how absurd was this guy?
But the current issue wasn't Faceless himself—it was Akatsuki controlling him.
"It's you again!" Sylvia gradually steadied herself, her furious gaze locking onto the faceless man—or rather, Akatsuki lurking behind him.
"You're like a haunting ghost! If you have grievances against me, come at me directly! I'll accept any challenge you throw my way—just stop dragging innocent people into this!"
"Since when does this bastard count as 'innocent people'?" Faceless's features twisted grotesquely, his face contorted with rage and disgust, yet his mouth involuntarily spat out a flippant retort.
"I meant the journalists! During Stella and Souji's match, you manipulated reporters to harass them, didn't you?"
"Hmm? Oh, that?" Faceless—or rather, Akatsuki—laughed dismissively, as though he'd nearly forgotten the incident. "Was that person a journalist? But why should I listen to you? I'll drag in bystanders if I want! I'll escalate things as I please! I'll kill indiscriminately—what can you possibly do about it?"
"You...!" Sylvia's anger erupted at his words, her face flushing with incomprehensible fury.
Akatsuki were fundamentally different from other terrorists.
He committed these acts not for profit or ideology, but purely for pleasure.
He derived soul-shaking ecstasy from tormenting and slaughtering others, reveling in unprecedented euphoria while crushing the weak. Thus, he drowned himself in his own world, manipulating people without regard for their will or dignity—forcing them to kill each other, creating chaos on a massive scale. His nature was pure evil, considering cruelty, bloodlust, and sadism as perfectly natural.
Reasoning with such a creature was futile. The only solution was to defeat—or kill—him. Only then could peace return to the world, and those who died by his hand rest in peace.
"So, what brings you here this time?" Roy regarded him impassively. Even as Sylvia teetered on the brink of losing her composure, he remained utterly unfazed, as though Akatsuki's words meant nothing to him.
"Hmm? I have zero interest in you, Festa champion." Akatsuki manipulated Faceless's mouth into a swamp-like, gurgling chuckle. "I simply want to see the world's beloved songstress utterly corrupted—to watch her drown in despair beyond salvation. I couldn't resist attacking when the opportunity arose earlier, but truly, the finest delicacies should be saved for last. How careless of me."
"But it's even better that you survived, because the real show is about to begin!"
"Be anxious, be worried, be resentful, be powerless, songstress! Here's a prophecy for you—soon, an event that will sweep across the entire world will unfold on this island, and your retribution is part of it. What kind of expression will you wear then? I can't wait to see, ahahahahaha—!"
Sylvia's expression darkened instantly, her entire body radiating an intense, dangerous aura as if she were on the verge of lashing out.
Roy silently watched Faceless's maniacal laughter, then glanced at Sylvia, who seemed ready to explode at any moment.
He stepped forward, wrapping his fingers in prana, and under their gazes, reached out to pinch the thread near the faceless one's ear.
Faceless, under control, sneered contemptuously, scoffing at Roy's actions.
"Trying to cut the thread? Go ahead, consider it a gift—ugh!"
Abruptly, the controlled Faceless let out a muffled groan.
"What... is this? What did you do?"
Akatsuki, snapping back to his senses, let out an incredulous cry through Faceless's mouth. His voice sounded strained, as if enduring some kind of pain.
What had happened?
The hostility in Sylvia's eyes gradually faded as she turned an equally astonished gaze toward Roy.
"Who knows?"
Roy shrugged, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Weren't you so full of yourself? What happened? Can't even figure out what I did? Why don't you take a guess, oh invincible Lord Akatsuki?"
"You—"
Akatsuki tried to speak, but then gritted his teeth and abruptly severed the thread connecting him to Faceless.
In some unknown, dimly lit space, his entire body felt as if it were on fire. A dense, stinging pain spread across his skin, the intense heat causing his body temperature to skyrocket. Even his brain felt scalding, as if he might burn to death at any moment.
"He can attack me remotely just through the thread? What kind of attack is this? Just who the hell is this guy?"
Countless questions flooded Akatsuki's mind.
A minute ago, he hadn't given Roy a second thought.
Now, he felt a deep sense of incomprehension and wariness toward him.
As the thread was severed, the inexplicable attack gradually weakened, soon dissipating like rootless duckweed. Akatsuki slowly stood back up.
"To think there's someone like this in the world… I can't afford to underestimate him…"
Meanwhile, in the redevelopment zone.
What Roy had sent through the thread to Akatsuki was his own curse.
Under Angra Mainyu's deliberate machinations, Roy's body had long since merged with curses. Not just his flesh, but even his soul was tainted by them, intertwined inextricably. The only reason he hadn't fallen into corruption was sheer willpower and the method of using glasses to compartmentalize his personality.
In essence, Roy was practically a human-shaped curse. Though the frequent curse outbreaks were agonizing, they also granted him an unconventional advantage.
To leverage this, Roy had specifically studied curse techniques to attack enemies from a distance.
"Still, an opponent of Akatsuki's caliber isn't someone you can kill just by hurling curses from afar, right?"
Roy secretly felt regretful. Moreover, Akatsuki had realized that he was releasing the curse through the thread as a medium and decisively severed it.
Curses require a medium to be cast—they can't be conjured by imagination alone. The medium could be a photo of the enemy, a strand of their hair, or even a single exchanged glance. Through these methods, a curse could be planted.
But Akatsuki was hiding in the distance, and the only thing connecting them was the thread before him. Roy could only cast the curse through that thread. Without the thread, without a medium, there was naturally no way to attack him from afar.