That voice…
Lucius's eyes flew wide open.
Reason and memory both screamed the same answer—he had heard this voice before. It belonged to the so-called Director brought by the little boss.
But under no circumstances should the Director be here.
He was supposed to be standing outside the grandstands, near the finish point of the Tour de Inferno, watching from afar—waiting for the news of Pompey's unfortunate death.
Then they would mourn together while laughing inside, cooperate, dream about the future, make obscene amounts of money, and take full control of the Outer Ring.
That was how the script was supposed to go…
…So why was the Director here?!
Lucius turned his head stiffly, his neck jerking like an unlubricated machine. When his eyes finally locked onto Phaga's face, terror forced his memories to the surface. His heart slammed into his throat, and his legs began to tremble uncontrollably.
"You're not the Director!!!"
A burst of desperate strength surged through Lucius. He shoved both hands hard against Phaga's chest, trying to break free.
Phaga indulged him—without moving back a single step.
Instead, the rebound force sent Lucius himself flying.
As Lucius was thrown backward, Phaga added a kick, driving it straight into his lower abdomen.
Pff—!
Vomit sprayed from Lucius's mouth.. Phaga sidestepped calmly, then coldly watched as Lucius collapsed to his knees and sprawled on the ground, gasping for air like a dying man.
After a long while, Lucius finally caught his breath. He jerked his head up and shrieked:
"You… you're Phaga! The one who escaped the car accident I planned—ugh!"
Before he could finish, a black shoe sole rapidly expanded in his vision until it filled everything.
He was kicked flat.
"Not bad. You still remember."
Phaga stepped down on Lucius's knee.
A sharp crack rang out immediately as fragile bones shattered under the pressure. The fine grinding sounds were like a beast gnawing on bone. Lucius screamed in agony, his shrill wail so piercing that even the clouds scorched red by Cinder Lake seemed unable to endure it, scattering apart.
A sliver of light broke through.
The dying sunlight fell squarely onto Lucius's body.
Lucius stared at it blankly as the clouds began to close again. That remaining light—just like his life—depended entirely on someone else's whim.
"Lucius, what exactly have you been hiding from me?"
Pompey strode over, roaring.
"Did you make some deal with the city's corporations? Went as far as killing people for them?!"
Having ruled as Overlord for so many years, Pompey's experience was more than enough. Even fragments of information were sufficient for him to piece things together.
Lucius had planned to assassinate Phaga in a staged car accident.
That alone revealed far too much.
As someone from the city, Phaga had no conflict of interest with the Vanquishers. There was no reason for Lucius, as second-in-command, to target him—unless Lucius wasn't loyal.
Unless Lucius was a traitor.
To secure some agreement with city enterprises, Lucius may have been forced to eliminate certain obstacles on their behalf.
And that was the only explanation Pompey could come up with.
If that were true, then Lucius had already established contact with the city. Which meant that manic laughter earlier—
Pompey suddenly understood.
His expression froze completely. His pupils trembled as his body stumbled backward against his will.
But the sand beneath his feet was too warm to support the desolation in his heart.
His foot sank into the sand pit. The once-valiant Overlord now looked like a staggering old man—one wrong step away from losing his footing and tumbling backward entirely.
Smack!
Something struck his back hard. It hurt—but it stabilized him.
"Don't let that bastard mess with your head, old man."
Ellen withdrew her tail after bracing Pompey.
"If you do, you might pass out from rage once you see this contract."
She had been comforting him just moments ago, but as she slapped the contract into Pompey's hand, her eyes flicked toward Lucius. Her expression instantly twisted into one of pure disgust, as if she'd just spotted trash.
Her face darkened. The candy in her mouth crunched loudly as she snorted and turned to leave along the path she came from.
As she passed behind Phaga, Ellen spoke in a low voice.
"I hear engines. Probably Calydon. I'll go stop them."
"Oh, right."
She took two steps, then suddenly stopped and turned back, her expression deadly serious.
"Make sure he's still breathing. I'm coming back later to kick him myself."
"Mm. Got it."
Phaga nodded slightly, already considering how to arrange an enjoyable round of torment.
Then—
He shifted his gaze to Pompey.
Though he could roughly guess Pompey's answer, out of respect he still asked:
"Mr. Pompey. Lucius's right to live now belongs to me. Any objections?"
Phaga narrowed his eyes, his gaze locked firmly onto Pompey.
If Pompey showed even the slightest hint of reluctance, Phaga would have to reconsider Pompey's future biological health.
Hearing the question, Pompey—who had already skimmed through most of the contract—slowly closed his eyes.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Can you let me kill him with my own hands?"
"Yes."
Phaga's lips curved faintly.
"But Ellen and I will watch."
They didn't care how Lucius died.
They didn't care who delivered the final blow.
When victory was already assured, the enemy's screams were the greatest pleasure of all.
"No problem. Lucius is yours… Do whatever you want. I won't interfere."
Pompey sighed again and walked off to the side, moving like a shell without a soul.
"Wait—wait, boss Pompey!"
The moment Pompey turned away, Lucius completely broke down.
The eye not hidden by his hair was filled with terror as he stretched out one arm, desperately trying to grab onto something.
Maybe the Overlord.
Maybe Pompey.
"Boss Pompey, I was wrong! I was really wrong! Please—please save me! I don't want to die! I really don't want to die! I'm begging you—!"
The next second, Phaga bent forward.
His body blocked Pompey's retreating figure—and also blocked out the last ray of sunlight.
With the sun at his back, Lucius saw a gentle smile darker than darkness itself.
"Good boy. Don't be scared…"
"In Canvas Street, I'm known as a model citizen."
"Since I promised Pompey, I absolutely won't kill you."
"So don't…"
"…scream too loudly."
Crack!
Phaga stomped down with full force.
Lucius's entire pelvic bone shattered.
Lucius's breath caught instantly, his eyes going blank.
The next moment—
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH—!!!"
A scream tore through the sky. Even the crimson clouds recoiled, scattering as brilliant sunlight burst forth.
...
"Wow, Lucius is screaming really loud."
From over a hundred meters away, stopped by Ellen, the late-arriving Sons of Calydon could only watch.
Burnice was the most invested. She elbowed Lucy beside her.
"Lucy, Lucy, look—did he scream the clouds apart?"
Lucy slapped her hand away in annoyance, then immediately covered Corin's eyes.
"Why are you watching something this inappropriate?! And you people from Victoria Housekeeping—if you want revenge, can't you pick somewhere quieter? What if you traumatize little Corin?"
That last part was directed at Ellen.
Ellen rolled her eyes and looked away coolly.
"Give me a break. Corin's probably seen more than you."
"What do you mean by that?! Are you looking down on the Montefio family?!"
Lucy exploded instantly, leaving Ellen momentarily confused about what she'd said wrong.
"Wait."
Ellen suddenly tilted her head, listening intently, then frowned at Lucy.
"Are you sure all of the Sons of Calydon are here? Did someone fall behind?"
Lucy snapped back. "Of course not! We don't abandon our companions!"
"Then what's that engine sound I'm hearing?"
"Engine? What engine—ah—!"
"Get down!"
Ellen reacted instantly, slamming Lucy and Corin's heads down.
In the split second that followed, everyone turned to look—
A completely unfamiliar vehicle burst onto the scene at terrifying speed. It was so fast it went airborne, roaring straight over Ellen, Lucy, and Corin.
Boom!
The stranger's vehicle crashed heavily onto the ground and accelerated straight toward Phaga.
"Phaga!!!"
Ellen shouted hoarsely.
Phaga turned his head.
The speeding vehicle suddenly began to transform. A turret rose from the roof, its black muzzle locking directly onto Phaga.
Boom!
The shell fired.
Phaga's expression sharpened. He clenched his right hand.
In an instant, Ether crystals naturally formed in his palm, stretching to roughly four feet and three inches.
The next moment, the crystal exploded.
A sharp blade fell neatly into his grasp—and he slashed upward.
Vrrrm—!
One strike.
Cleanly severed.
"What the hell…?"
Phaga frowned, staring at the unfamiliar vehicle still hurtling toward him.