Awakened Talent: 10,000 Exp Converter!

"Back off!"

The executor men, standing like shadows in the dimly lit hallway, did not flinch at the attack. As though they had rehearsed their response a thousand times, they swiftly dispersed, sidestepping with a practiced ease that left Karl's strike roaring past them. The force of his attack did not dissipate—it continued its path, heading straight for Old Bone.

Old Bone, seemingly unbothered, raised a withered hand. With an almost lazy wave, faint purple energy materialized in the air, dispersing the strike like a gentle breeze extinguishing a candle flame.

To him, Karl's offensive skill was no more than an insignificant disturbance, like a child flailing their arms in frustration.

"Stop fooling around!" Old Bone's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, tinged with irritation.

His men chuckled, unperturbed by his tone.

"My bad, didn't think it'd reach you. Hehe," one said, his grin audible in his voice.

"Hehe, you wouldn't die from that strike, Old Bone!" another chimed in, his words dripping with mockery.

Old Bone's brow furrowed, his displeasure growing.

"If you don't start taking this mission seriously, you won't see another reward from me," he snapped, his voice carrying a stern warning.

His men exchanged sheepish glances. They knew better than to push him too far. With reluctant nods, they silently agreed to refocus.

"Well, we'd better do our share, or Old Bone will cut us off," one muttered, breaking the silence.

"Alright, I'll handle two of them. The rest are up to you," another offered casually.

"What did you say? I'm taking two—go find someone else to fight!"

"Enough! I'll take them all if you two keep arguing!"

"Keep dreaming, old fool!"

Their voices overlapped in a chaotic symphony of bickering, their camaraderie evident despite the harsh words exchanged.

Suddenly, a sharp energy fluctuation cut through their argument. Their chatter ceased as they all froze, sensing a swift incoming attack. Without needing to exchange a word, they nodded in unison, their coordination impeccable.

Their figures blurred, vanishing into the shadows as if they had never been there. Yet, the incoming strike moved with purpose, like a predator with unyielding focus. It locked onto one executor, striking with snake-like precision. Before he could react, the energy lashed out, binding his entire body in an unrelenting grip.

The other executors stared in wide-eyed disbelief, momentarily stunned by the scene.

A calm, steady voice broke the tension. "Aren't you taking us a bit too lightly?"

It was Uncle Gold. He stood tall, exuding a composed confidence that demanded attention. In his right hand, he held a golden whip, its surface gleaming ominously.

With a flick of his wrist, Uncle Gold hoisted the bound executor into the air. The bound man struggled but could not break free.

Then, without hesitation, Uncle Gold brought the whip down, slamming the executor onto the cold, unyielding floor. The sound of the impact echoed through the hallway, a resounding bang that made the walls tremble.

"Fourth Brother!" the other executors cried out, rushing to their fallen comrade. One drew his weapon and slashed at the whip, but Uncle Gold was quicker. With a deft motion, he retracted it, avoiding the strike effortlessly.

They glared at him, their fury evident.

"Are you alright, Fourth Brother?" the third asked, his voice tinged with worry as he helped the injured man up.

"I'm fine. It's just a minor dislocation," Fourth Brother replied. To prove his point, he raised his twisted arm, showing no signs of pain or discomfort.

Second and Third Brothers let out sighs of relief, reassured by his calm demeanor. Without a moment's hesitation, Fourth Brother grabbed his dislocated arm and snapped it back into place with a sickening crack. His expression remained impassive, as if the pain meant nothing to him.

"So this is what Ghouls are capable of…" Vincent murmured, standing beside Caelius. His brows furrowed slightly as he observed the scene with a mix of intrigue and wariness.

Vincent had done his research on the Ghoul race, one of the most notorious in the Origin World. With their rotting, skeletal appearance and inability to feel pain, they were often likened to zombies. However, unlike the slow-moving undead of myths, Ghouls were known for their agility and stealth, making them highly effective assassins. Their infamy was such that most races shunned them, viewing them with disdain and fear.

After resetting his arm, Fourth Brother joined his siblings near First Brother, who remained locked in a silent stare with Uncle Gold.

"This is our first encounter with a member of the Golden Lion Legion. Let's give it everything we've got," First Brother declared, his voice steady and resolute.

"I agree!" Second and Third Brothers echoed in unison.

"Let's go!"

On the other side of the hallway, Uncle Gold addressed his team.

"We won't disappoint the young master this time. On my signal, we'll end this quickly. Understood?"

"Yes!" the siblings replied in unison, their voices firm and resolute. Beneath their masks, determination burned brightly in their eyes.

"Let's move!"

Vincent, observing from a distance, issued silent commands to his Shadow Rats. They scurried into action, ready to provide support. Keeping a safe distance, Vincent followed, his focus unwavering.

The hallway, though spacious, felt charged with tension as the two groups prepared for battle.

Meanwhile, Old Bone stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Caelius.

"Hehe, I'm eager to see what kind of loot you'll drop when I kill you," Old Bone said, rubbing his hands together as though savoring the thought.

Caelius met his gaze with a calm smile. "I doubt your corpse will yield anything of value."

Old Bone chuckled darkly. "Talk all you want. This is the end of the road for you."

With those words, dark-purple daggers materialized in his hands. Vicious Fangs—Tier 2 Rare Quality Armaments, infamous for their deadly precision.

Caelius responded by drawing his golden longsword, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly radiance. It, too, was a Tier 2 Rare Quality Armament, crafted from the remains of a mutated Earth Drake.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A faint purple mist began to envelop Old Bone, obscuring his figure. When the mist cleared, he was gone.

Yet, Caelius remained unfazed. With a measured step, he illuminated the area around him with golden energy. Within the light, he spotted a faint footprint on the floor.

Without hesitation, he struck at the air where the footprint lay.

But his blade met nothing.

A mocking voice echoed around him. "Nice try."

Caelius pivoted and struck again.

"Not even close."

Again, he slashed.

"Wrong direction!"

The voice taunted him relentlessly, each word dripping with mockery.

Caelius suddenly stopped, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

"Who said I was trying to find you?"

The taunting ceased.

Old Bone felt his back press against something. Turning, he saw a golden string of energy stretched taut behind him. His eyes widened in realization.

Golden strings surrounded him, intricately woven like a web.

Caelius acted swiftly. The moment Old Bone touched the string, Caelius dashed forward and slashed.

Poof!

Purple smoke erupted as Old Bone stumbled backward, clutching his side. Black blood seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

"Hello there," Caelius greeted, his tone light, as though the battle was a mere game.

Old Bone, unfazed by his injury, chuckled. "Impressive. But let's see how long you can keep that smile, Lion's Cub!"

With those words, purple smoke spread outward, covering a five-meter radius.

"Poison Cloud!"