Two years later.
The laboratory lights remained stark white, illuminating the figure lying on the experimental table.
Ryan was no longer the slender, delicate youth from before. Standing nearly two meters tall, his frame wasn't exceptionally burly, yet it carried a lean, formidable quality.
Beneath his bronze skin, the faint pulse of veins was visible—evidence of long-term drug exposure and extreme training. Every inch of muscle appeared tempered through countless trials, with smooth, tight contours that seemed unremarkable yet concealed explosive power.
His facial features had grown more angular, his gaze deeper. The naivety and fear from two years ago had faded, replaced by coldness and sharpness.
Indigo stood beside the experimental table, holding a clipboard while muttering to himself as he watched the fluctuating data on the instruments: "Kare kare... What a perfect test subject. To think you've grown to this level in just two years."
He adjusted his glasses, face full of pride: "The IQ Killer Drug is finally successfully developed. Shiki's plan can begin soon."
Indigo turned to Ryan, clicking his tongue in admiration: "Your current strength is absolutely monstrous. With you by his side, Shiki will be like a tiger with wings, truly becoming the overlord of the seas."
Ryan slowly sat up, a cryptic smile curling at the corner of his mouth: "All of this is thanks to Lord Indigo's experiments."
Two years. Two years. Do you know how he lived through those two years? It was a living hell.
The deserter king became a Marine hero in just two years. With his Artificial Dragon Fruit and the stimulation of the IQ Killer Drug enhancing cellular activity, why couldn't Ryan become a monster too?
Indigo grew even more pleased with himself, shaking the clipboard in his hand: "Kare kare... Naturally. Just look at whose work this is. If not for me, how could you possess such power today?"
"Pfft..."
At that moment, Indigo's body suddenly jolted, his smile freezing on his face.
He slowly looked down, disbelief in his eyes as he stared at his abdomen—a hand had pierced straight through it, blood gushing out in streams.
"You... what are you doing?" Indigo struggled to speak, his voice trembling, eyes filled with terror and confusion.
"Just repaying Lord Indigo, of course." Ryan coldly withdrew his hand, blood dripping from his fingertips, his tone so casual it seemed he'd merely performed some trivial task.
"You... this is betrayal! Shiki won't let you get away with this!" Indigo clutched his bleeding abdomen, body swaying unsteadily, face contorted with rage and fear.
Ryan stood up, walked over to stand before Indigo, looking down at him with eyes devoid of any warmth: "Don't worry. I'll send Shiki to keep you company."
Indigo opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but ultimately collapsed powerless to the ground, eyes wide open as if unable to believe what had happened even in death.
Ryan bent down and picked up a sword from beside the experimental table.
This blade was one of the Good Fast Swords Fifty Craftsmen. Its scabbard was dark brown, adorned with black ink patterns resembling lightning bolts. The hilt was wrapped in coarse linen thread, providing a grip that was neither slippery nor uncomfortable.
He pushed with his thumb—"Shing!"—a section of the blade emerged, so brilliantly polished it reflected like a mirror.
This sword was called "Wind Splitter," something Golden Lion had casually tossed to him for training purposes.
He sheathed his blade and turned to leave the laboratory. The corridor lights swayed and creaked from the wind he stirred, dimming one by one as he passed.
Golden Lion's study was at the very top of the ancient castle. Pushing the door open, Ryan saw the old man seated by the window, swirling a wine glass in his hand.
Hearing the footsteps, Golden Lion looked up, his gaze lingering on Ryan for a moment before flickering to the long sword at his waist. A faint, almost imperceptible surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by his usual arrogance.
"Weren't you supposed to be recording data with Indigo? What brings you here?" His tone was casual, even carrying a hint of indulgence toward his "capable subordinate."
Ryan stood three meters away from the soft couch, his back to the door. Moonlight cast a long, narrow shadow behind him. His eyelids drooped, concealing the ferocity in his eyes.
Golden Lion raised an eyebrow, about to speak, when Ryan suddenly moved.
The dark brown scabbard cut a shadow through the air as the blade of Wind Splitter shot forward, swift as the wind, fierce and treacherous, aimed straight at Golden Lion's heart.
"Huh?"
Golden Lion's pupils contracted sharply. Years of battlefield instinct made him twist sideways in a split second, his elbow slamming hard into Ryan's chest. The blade grazed his ribs, drawing a trail of blood and tearing a gash in his golden kimono.
Using the momentum, Golden Lion leaped back several steps, landing steadily beside his desk. All traces of his earlier laziness vanished, his eyes now sharp as an eagle's.
"Have you grown tired of living?"
Ryan retracted his blade and stood firm, the tip angled toward the floor. A drop of blood slid down the edge and splattered onto the carpet, staining it dark.
He curled his lip, his tone sharp. "I thought you'd grown senile, old man. Seems you haven't lost all your alertness."
Golden Lion glanced down at the wound under his ribs, blood still seeping out. He wiped it with his fingers, his expression darkening like storm clouds. "Where is Indigo?"
"What's the hurry?" Ryan weighed the sword in his hand, the black lightning pattern on the scabbard looking ominous under the moonlight. "I'll send you to meet him."
"Insolence!" Golden Lion slammed his palm on the table, shattering the entire rosewood desk into splinters. "I spent two years training you, and this is how you repay me?"
His voice wasn't just filled with anger—it carried the cold sting of betrayal. He had genuinely valued this young man, even considered him as a successor. Never had he expected to raise a viper in his bosom.
"Training?" Ryan laughed, so hard tears nearly welled in his eyes. "Daily injections, forced potions, thrown into arenas to fight beasts for my life—did you really think I'd forget?"
If it had been genuine training, Ryan might have felt some gratitude. But what had Golden Lion done? Forced him to battle wild beasts, used him as a lab rat—a fate worse than being treated as a disposable pawn.
The so-called "IQ" was, in essence, the Forbidden Potion for Forced Activation of Biological Potential. It did enhance Ryan's physique, but at the cost of draining his vitality, even driving him to utter madness.
If not for his sheer tenacity, the grass on his grave would have been three meters tall by now.
Sometimes Ryan even wondered if it would have been better to die on Punk Hazard back then.
He tightened his grip on the hilt, his knuckles turning white. "You taught me swordsmanship only to make me your blade. Pity—this blade now wants your life."
Golden Lion slowly straightened up, his stark white hair stirring as if caught in an unfelt wind. An intimidating aura pressed down, heavy as a mountain.
"It seems I've been too lenient with you, making you forget who's in charge here." The ground beneath his feet cracked with a "crack-crack" sound: "Since you're asking for death, I'll grant your wish—let you understand why legends remain legends, far beyond the reach of a brat like you!"
That overwhelming pressure that threatened to crush everything didn't make him retreat. Instead, he raised Wind Splitter horizontally before his chest. The black ink-like lightning patterns on the scabbard seemed to come alive, and the ferocity in his eyes was no less intense.
"Then let's try."
As soon as the words fell, the air between them exploded with a "boom," shattering all the windowpanes. Under the moonlight, the old and the young stood facing each other, blades drawn, eyes burning with rage.