Chapter 194 | Anger (1)

Chapter 194: 194 | Anger (1)

The door swung open and Marcus could be seen seated in his seat, right behind the desk.

There were lots of documents on his desk as he wrote something down with a self-satisfied smile on his round, ruddy face.

As the door opened, Marcus didn’t bother to look up.

"Is it done?" he asked casually, his pen still moving. "Have you chased the bastard away?"

There was a bit of silence and then a voice spoke.

"Yes. It is done."

Marcus still didn’t look up as he chuckled and continued writing.

"Good. If that is all, just keep guarding. The bastard might come back again."

There was another silence throughout out the entire room.

Just when Marcus was feeling something was wrong, a fist came down on the iron desk..

"CRACK!"

The metal and glass desk instablt shattered as though made of wood as the entire surface exploded into pieces, splitting apart Instantly.

A massive shockwave of pure physical force ripped through the air as documents were sent flying.

Marcus’s was stunned and he raised his head. At that exact moment, his heart skipped a beat as the Marcus’s his face vanished like an illusion.

Dexter stood on the other side of what used to be a desk. His fist was still pressed into the wreckage and his eyes were cold.

Marcus’s face went pale and the ruddy complexion drained to a sickly grey in approximately one second. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

Dexter reached across the wreckage of the desk, grabbed Marcus by the throat, and lifted him out of his chair.

Marcus weighed over a hundred kilograms. Dexter lifted him with one hand as though he were a bag of feathers.

The man’s feet dangled in the air. His hands clawed at Dexter’s grip. His face turned from grey to red to purple as the pressure on his throat cut off blood flow and air simultaneously.

Dexter held him there. At eye level. Close enough that Marcus could see every detail of Dexter’s face. Close enough to see that there was no bluff in his eyes. No negotiation. No room for talk.

Dexter smiled.

"Either you give me my money," he said, his voice light, almost pleasant, "or you die. Choose one."

Marcus’s eyes bulged. Sweat poured down his forehead, running into his eyes and mixing with the tears that had begun to leak from the corners. His lips moved, producing choked, wheezing sounds that couldn’t quite form words.

"Wait," he managed, the word barely audible through his crushed throat. "Wait, wait, wait. I’ll send you your money. I’ll send it right now. Don’t do anything rash. Don’t do anything rash."

He gasped, his face contorting with desperate urgency.

"But the money is with the company. It’s not with me. I’m just a messenger. I’m just a messenger for the higher-ups. I had nothing to do with the decision. I’m just a messenger. I just did what I was told."

Dexter’s smile didn’t waver.

"Didn’t you say you wanted to curry favor with the Ashford family?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "You wanted to impress them. Gain a few favors. And you’ve got Type One, Type Two, and Type Three relic weapons hanging on your wall."

He glanced at the three swords on their display plaques, still rattling from the shockwave that had destroyed the desk.

"So I’m sure you can afford one million credits. Transfer my money. Right now. This instant."

Marcus’s face turned even paler. The blue tint receded slightly as Dexter loosened his grip just enough to allow speech, but the terror in the man’s eyes only deepened.

He gritted his teeth. A flash of defiance, born from desperation rather than courage, crossed his features.

"You have no idea who you’re dealing with," he hissed.

Dexter smiled wider.

"You also have no idea who you’re dealing with."

His grip tightened.

Marcus’s face went from blue to a mottled red. Then green. Then a horrifying combination of both as the pressure on his throat increased. His eyes began to bulge. The veins on his forehead stood out like cables as his kicking became weaker, frantic and pathetic.

Dexter stared into his eyes.

And Marcus saw something there.

It was killing intent.

Pure, cold, absolute killing intent.

Marcus saw it, and he understood that the next five seconds would determine whether he lived or died.

"Pl-ease!" "Waaaait!"

He began to plead. Frantic, garbled sounds spilled from his lips.

But Dexter wasn’t listening anymore.

His eyes had flashed violet and then crimson as killkmgbjnegent began to rise.

Demonic essence surged through his DNA, flooding his muscles, his bones, his nervous system with power that was not entirely human.

The Asura Physique also stirred, wanting souls.

The two combined want enough to fully influence Dexter but it was enough for them to give him an idea which grew rapidly.

’Kill him.’

’Kill him and forget about the money. He insulted you, he stole from you and he deserves death. Take it.’

Dexter’s violet eyes narrowed and his grip on Marcus’s throat shifted, no longer a restraining hold but was tightening.

Marcus eyes went wide with terror and he opened his mouth to scream but he could not.

Dexter’s other hand began to rise, crimson flames flickering around his knuckles.

"You can only blame me for what is about tot happen."

Dexter grinned as he tightened his hand and was ready for the kill when his Enhanced Hearing Talent suddenly heard something behind him.

The thing was fast to an almost impossible level as it closed in on him with speed that rivaled sound.

Dexter’s eyes snapped back to their natural color for a fraction of a second and his conscious mind, the part that was still Dexter Ashford and not the Flame Demon ascending through his bloodline, processed the information speed.

But as Dexter’s brain processed all this, he didn’t dodge in the slightest.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have time to dodge, it was that he chose especially at that moment not to dodge!