The man stared at the spot where Modret had disappeared, and his eyes widened in realization.
'This little kid who hasn't even undergone the Awakening Ceremony is already awakened?'
At that moment, he knew one thing with certainty—he had to kill Modret tonight, no matter what.
'When did it happen? When did he awaken? I have to alert the others!' The thought struck him sharply, but he paused immediately.
'No… this is unprecedented. If I kill him alone, the rewards and benefits I'll receive from the organization will be substantial!'
Grinning wickedly, he surged forward, increasing his speed dramatically. The power granted by mana at the middle stage of the Galaxy Realm was not something a few abilities could make up for.
Sensing the rush of wind behind him, Modret's eyes widened. He tried to accelerate, pushing himself harder, but it was futile. Trapped with nowhere to run, a fierce light sparked in his eyes, and he came to a halt.
He turned and faced the blue-masked man with a solemn gaze.
Underneath the mask, the man grinned with satisfaction. "Before I kill you, tell me one thing, brat. When did you awaken?"
Modret's expression didn't change in the slightest. Without hesitation, black flames surged around him, cloaking his entire figure in shadowy, flickering fire.
'I can only use this for about ten minutes… after that, I'll run out.' He knew all too well that the higher the grade of an ability, the more mana it consumed. Sometimes, possessing a high-grade ability came at an extreme cost.
But Modret had no choice. If he could survive just ten minutes—long enough for Axel to return with reinforcements—it would be worth it.
Without wasting a moment, he charged toward the masked man. The only way to delay the inevitable was to engage him directly, up close.
The masked man could tell Modret was stalling for time, but he didn't care. He watched him like one would observe an animal in a cage.
'It's the same black flames from before. What kind of ability is this? What grade is it? How can it be this powerful? Could it be at the S-grade, just like his mother's?' The man frowned.
It was difficult to determine the grade of an ability unless one had firsthand knowledge. All he could do was guess.
He stepped aside as Modret's flame-covered hand swiped past him, the air sizzling with heat. Just when he thought the attack was over, a sharp rush of wind echoed, and a blade of wind burst out of nowhere, slashing toward his neck.
BANG!
With a flick of his fingers, black strands lashed out and dragged his body forward. Like a puppet under control, he dodged at the last second and narrowly avoided the sneak attack.
'Another ability?' The thought flashed through his mind, but he quickly shook his head. It was rare for someone to possess more than one ability. There was no need to overthink it.
'It must have been another variation of those black flames!' Because Modret had deliberately coated the wind blade in black fire, the masked man had no idea he possessed multiple abilities.
Suddenly, Modret's danger sense activated. He twisted his flame-cloaked body to the side without hesitation.
BANG!
A sharp blade crashed into the space where his head had just been. The masked man retracted his sword, using puppet-like threads to control his body's movements once more.
'We're evenly matched!' Modret's eyes narrowed. Since the battle had begun, he had realized they were on equal footing.
With his numerous abilities combined, Modret's combat power was equivalent to someone at the mid-stage of the Galaxy Realm. It was a shocking achievement.
'However, because of his strange puppet-like movements, I can't land a proper hit.' Modret frowned as he retreated swiftly, flames still dancing along his figure. A deep wound had opened along his gut, but it was already beginning to close.
Thanks to his healing abilities—C-grade Blood Cloat and C-grade Healing—Modret didn't have to worry too much about injuries.
The masked man's frown deepened as well.
'How is he this strong? Even if he awakened ten years ago, he shouldn't be at this level! Could he be… an innate awakened?' The idea sent a chill through him, but he quickly dismissed it.
No, it had to be a trick of his mind. There was no way someone like that would be facing him head-on.
Shaking off the thought, he launched himself forward, resuming the fight with renewed focus.
Their battle intensified. Neither gained the upper hand, trading attacks with relentless ferocity.
Modret was growing increasingly anxious, but the masked man's expression remained composed. His gaze grew heavier, but there was no panic in his eyes.
It was as if he could already see victory within reach.
'If he doesn't have any more trump cards, this fight will be over in a few minutes,' he concluded calmly.
'To think he has cultivated to the Cosmos Realm… and to such a high level at that.' The man had now fully grasped Modret's strength.
His hand moved with ghostly speed. His sword pierced through Modret's arm, slicing through the black flames. Modret groaned briefly, but didn't falter. He continued fighting as if nothing had happened.
'How brilliant. Or perhaps it's simply ruthlessness. He's using his fire ability to cauterize the wound… This youth is relentless!' The masked man couldn't detect the healing abilities behind Modret's endurance, so he misjudged the cause completely.
Even the idea alone made him shiver slightly.
'He must die. So young, and already this ruthless… if he's allowed to grow, he will become a nightmare for the organization!'
The battle dragged on for three more minutes. Finally, the flames surrounding Modret began to flicker.
He dropped to one knee, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he glared at the masked man.
'My mana is gone…' The thought weighed heavily on his heart. He gazed weakly at his opponent, who remained calm, as though he had been expecting this outcome.
The masked man approached slowly, sword in hand.
He stared at Modret for a moment before shaking his head. His voice was cold and indifferent as it reached Modret's ears.
"You fought well… for someone so young."
With that, he plunged the sword toward Modret's heart.
Modret closed his eyes. He prayed silently, hoping for a miracle. Perhaps his bloodline would activate again, just like it had when he was a baby. But nothing happened.
His life began flashing before his eyes. Memories surged through his mind as the blade came closer. His lifeforce slowly ebbed away.
After more than fifteen years in this strange world, just as the gods had predicted, Modret had been unable to save them.
He had succumbed to fate.
Modret had died…