Noen felt his pulse racing.
— I knew it! —
His gaze stayed locked on the man.
— If that had really been the President, I never would've been able to hit him.
Lum would've stopped it. —
Shit. Shit! SHIT!
The "President" cursed loudly as he struggled to get back up from the ground. Dirt and snow clung to his clothes, his movements frantic, panicked.
"That's it!" he shouted angrily.
"Gone. Our chance at power is gone, people!"
The masked men immediately took positions beside him.
Combat stance.
But nothing about it looked confident.
Their bodies were trembling.
Shoulders tense.
Even through the masks, their nervousness was obvious.
Noen snorted quietly.
"Okay," he said.
"You got me."
The man grabbed the wrist of his other arm, lifted it—and then…
his body changed.
His skin began to shift, as if it no longer fit properly. Facial features warped, bones seemed to rearrange beneath the surface. His neck tightened, grew thinner, then wider again. His shoulders slumped, his whole body shape collapsing in on itself.
It was disgusting to watch.
Not bloody.
But wrong.
Unnatural.
Nothing of the apparent President remained.
Standing before them now was a completely ordinary man.
Average height.
Slim, unremarkable build.
Unkempt dark hair.
A narrow face with tired eyes and sunken cheeks.
Someone you would immediately forget.
Noen swallowed.
"H-huh?"
He blinked.
Then frowned.
"Wait…"
"Y-you have godly powers?"
The man rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, obviously," he said annoyed.
"You idiot, what else would it be?"
He sounded almost pissed off.
"Go on," he continued.
"Just kill us already. We don't have any chance anyway."
The masked men let their arms drop to their sides and looked up into the air, as if they had already accepted it.
Noen's brow furrowed.
"Who are you?"
The man snorted.
"What don't you understand about that?"
One of the masked men bent down toward him and whispered:
"Shouldn't we at least try to hit him?"
"You want to go up against this guy?!"
The man snapped at him.
Noen turned his head, confused.
"That Noen guy there has the powers of Elionis, you moron!"
"He just has to snap once and we're gone!"
"What are they talking about…?" Noen murmured, confused.
Another masked man said hesitantly:
"He doesn't look that strong thou—"
"HEYY!"
Noen's shout cut through the scene.
Everyone looked at him.
The masked men instinctively backed away and hid behind the former "President."
Noen pointed straight at him.
"You!"
His voice was loud.
"Why can you still think logically?"
"You think you're hot shit or whaaat??" he snapped back.
He sighed.
"Okay," the man finally said.
"If you don't want to kill us, then we'll just have to attack you until you're forced to kill us in self-defense."
He reached into his jacket.
A knife appeared.
With a lot of hesitation, he ran toward Noen.
Three masked men followed him.
Only one stayed behind.
But all of them were shaking.
Noen moved.
Not forward Not aggressively.
To the side.
The man with the knife came far too hastily, far too desperately. Dirt sprayed up under his feet as he lunged — a wild, unplanned strike, full of fear instead of technique.
Noen twisted his upper body slightly.
The knife cut through the air.
Too slow.
Noen felt the rush of air brush his jacket — nothing more.
The attacker stumbled past him, nearly losing his balance. Before he could recover, Noen was already a step away — out of reach, calm, controlled.
"Calm down," Noen said, almost annoyed. "You can't even hit me when I'm standing still."
"SHUT UP!" the man roared and yanked the knife back up.
The three masked men moved in now as well.
Not coordinated. Not determined.
They ran more like they were hoping sheer numbers would be enough.
Noen saw them coming.
Left. Right. Straight ahead.
He exhaled.
The first attacked from the right.
Noen took a half-step back, turned slightly — the masked man rushed past him, slipped on the wet grass, and slammed hard onto his back.
The second came straight on, swinging both arms at him.
Noen simply ducked.
The blow sailed over his head.
With two fingers, Noen lightly shoved the man in the shoulder.
Just a nudge.
It was enough.
The masked man completely lost his balance and slid several meters through the grass, coming dangerously close to the open fire, where he lay gasping.
The third hesitated.
Too long.
Noen looked at him.
Just one look.
The masked man froze, his knees visibly shaking.
"I… I can't do this—"
In the same Moment...
The false President with the knife snarled and charged again.
This time faster.
More frantic.
He slashed wildly, the blade flashing as he tried to close the distance, stabbing where Noen had been a moment earlier.
But he wasn't there anymore.
He stepped back.
Pivoted.
Slid sideways through the dirt with practiced ease.
The knife stabbed into empty air.
Again.
And again.
Each thrust missed by inches — sometimes less — but never close enough to matter. Noen moved like he already knew where the blade would go before it did.
"Just stop and answer my questions.," Noen said, breath steady.
"You're embarrassing yourself."
"FUCK YOU!" the man screamed and lunged again.
Noen ducked under the swing, spun to the side, and the blade whistled past his shoulder. He felt nothing but cold air.
The knife came again.
Straight for Noen's chest.
He caught the fake presidents wrist.
Just like that.
Firm.
Unyielding.
The man froze as if he'd grabbed iron instead of flesh.
Noen twisted.
Not hard.
Not violently.
Just enough.
The knife clattered into the earth.
Before the man could even react, Noen pulled him forward by the arm and ran.
Not away.
Toward the others.
The three masked men were just getting back to their feet when Noen slammed into them, dragging the former "President" along.
Noen planted his foot.
Then shoved.
Three heads collided.
CRACK!
The sound was dull, heavy — final.
All three bodies went limp at once and collapsed into the snow in a heap, unconscious.
Silence.
Only the fire crackled.
Noen released the man's arm and stepped back, breathing evenly.
"…What a pain in the ass," he muttered.
He brushed off his holy clothing, even though it didnt get dirty, and adjusted it calmly.