Chapter 132: Crushing Massacre

Douglas and Adrian locked eyes.

As the Gray Cloaks' top killing machines, they knew better than anyone—three hundred elite operatives slaughtered without a sound meant tonight was a fight to the death. No other way out.

Running would only get them killed faster. Their only chance? Go all in.

"Adrian! We're taking him down! Even if he's a god, we're ripping a piece off him tonight!"

Douglas's eyes went bloodshot, veins bulging across his entire body.

His alloy battle-axe, packed with devastating force, came crashing down toward Leo's skull.

In the same instant, Adrian became a ghost—a shadow skimming the ground as he pushed his speed to the absolute limit.

His claws, coated in lethal poison, shot toward Leo's vital points from a vicious, unpredictable angle.

Both Round Table Knights unleashed everything they had—high and low—sealing off every possible escape route Leo might have taken.

Leo didn't retreat. Didn't dodge.

Just as the axe and claws were about to make contact—

Leo's hands shot out.

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion erupted inside the private room, the shockwave flinging shattered wood and glass in every direction.

Leo's left hand—using nothing but five fingers like steel-reinforced rebar—clamped down on the blade of that descending alloy battle-axe.

His right hand locked around Adrian's wrist, stopping those supposedly indestructible steel claws cold.

No matter how much the two knights strained, faces turning crimson as they poured every ounce of strength into their attacks—

Leo didn't budge an inch.

"What—?"

Douglas and Adrian's eyes went wide as dinner plates, their ferocity instantly replaced by sheer terror.

"That's... that's impossible!"

Douglas couldn't believe his own eyes. That axe could cleave through a main battle tank's armor!

And this man just caught it barehanded—with one hand!

One hand stopping the axe, the other crushing the claws.

Was he even human?

"That's all the strength you've got?"

Leo's lips curled into a cold smirk. "What, did you two skip lunch?"

"You were talking so big earlier. I thought these so-called 'Round Table Knights' would actually have some skills."

Ivy covered her mouth with one hand, laughing until her shoulders shook. "Turns out they can't even scratch a single layer of Reaper's skin."

Serafina lounged lazily against the arm of the sofa, her long, narrow eyes full of contempt. "Come on, put your backs into it, gentlemen knights! Your faces are turning purple—need me to cheer you on?"

Charlotte snorted coldly, looking at them like they were already corpses. "Two arrogant pigs who dare show off in front of Reaper. Pathetic."

Listening to the three women's cutting mockery, Edgar—pinned under Ivy's heel—completely fell apart inside.

"It's over... all over..."

He watched his last trump card, the pride he'd been so sure of, get toyed with like a joke by Leo.

"Warm-up game's over."

Leo's voice—cold and merciless as the Grim Reaper himself—rang out.

The next second, his hands clamping down on both men suddenly shook.

A terrifying surge of force exploded through the axe and claws.

Douglas and Adrian felt like their arms had been struck by lightning. Both screamed as they staggered backward several steps.

Before they could even regain their footing, Leo's form became a violent black hurricane.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

A rapid series of brutal, bone-crushing impacts echoed through the room.

Leo's assault was simple, savage, and utterly overwhelming.

His fists were like artillery shells leaving the barrel—each strike tearing through the air with a sonic boom.

Douglas tried to block with his axe, but Leo's devastating sweep kick bent the alloy handle, followed immediately by a crushing punch straight to his face.

CRACK!

Douglas's meaty face caved in instantly. Bloodied teeth flew from his mouth as his entire body spun, dazed and reeling.

Adrian tried using his speed to circle around for a sneak attack, but in Leo's eyes, his movements looked like slow-motion replay footage.

Leo whipped around with a vicious elbow strike, landing precisely on Adrian's chest. The sound of ribs snapping was crystal clear.

In less than two minutes of high-intensity combat—

The two Round Table Knights who'd been so full of bluster were completely drained, their stamina hemorrhaging like a broken dam.

They could only defend. No way to fight back. They'd become nothing more than human punching bags for Leo's one-sided beatdown.

"Too slow. Too weak. This is the Gray Cloaks' best?"

Leo barked coldly, his right leg swinging down like a battle-axe.

CRUNCH!

"AAHHH!"

Douglas's right knee shattered under Leo's stomp—a complete fracture. The massive man collapsed to his knees with a scream.

Leo seized the warped battle-axe from his grip and slammed the blunt side down onto Douglas's arms, pulverizing both bones into mush.

Then Leo grabbed Adrian—who'd been trying to flee—by the wrist where his clawed gauntlet was attached, and twisted in the opposite direction with brutal force.

SNAP—RIIIP!

The sickening sound of bone and flesh tearing apart filled the air. Adrian's hands—along with those steel claws—were ripped clean off.

The two Round Table Knights who'd once terrorized Europe now lay in pools of blood like broken rag dolls, completely crippled.

Just as Leo dusted off his hands, ready to finish this farce once and for all—

Elton—who'd been lying motionless in the corner—suddenly snapped his eyes open.

Those deep gray pupils gleamed with the venomous light of a viper.

"Leo! Go to hell!"

From somewhere, Elton produced a military combat knife coated in eerie blue poison. Like a rabid wolf, he lunged with vicious intent straight for Leo's back—aiming for the heart.

The strike came without warning.

"Leo, watch out!" Ivy and Serafina's faces changed as they cried out instinctively.

But—

Leo, still facing away from Elton, merely smirked with mocking amusement.

He shifted slightly to the side.

The poisoned blade missed by a hair, slicing through nothing but the fabric of Leo's suit.

"What—?!" Elton's face went white, pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

"Vermin hiding in the shadows never amount to anything."

Leo's hand shot back in a reverse grapple, locking Elton's knife-wielding wrist in place. Then his right knee—packed with murderous intent—drove upward with savage force.

BOOM!!

A dull, suffocating impact.

Leo's knee struck with pinpoint precision, obliterating Elton's jaw and throat in one devastating blow.

Elton's head snapped backward at a grotesque angle, blood and shattered bone spraying from his nose and mouth.

He crashed to the floor, twitched twice, and breathed his last.

Elton Wheeler, commander of the Gray Cloaks—dead.

Watching Elton's lifeless body, eyes still wide open in death, Douglas and Adrian felt the last shred of hope inside them disintegrate completely.

Despair washed over the two killing machines like a tidal wave, drowning them entirely.

Leo slowly turned around, stepping across the expensive carpet now soaked in blood, and walked toward the corner where Edgar lay trembling.

"Now..."

Leo looked down from above at Edgar, who was shaking like a leaf.

"It's your turn, Mr. Rothschild."