Chapter 568 - 504: Who Is the Real Prey?

Chapter 568: Chapter 504: Who Is the Real Prey?

The heavy tread of footsteps, the scrape of weapons being drawn, and the soft rattle of chains instantly broke the brief stalemate.

The Ranger that Roland had noticed silently slipped to the flank, his fingers already on the bowstring of his short bow.

Two of the burliest men, their auras as heavy as stone, stepped forward on the left and right, sealing off any path Holland might take to charge.

Riley, like a venomous snake in the Shadow, silently took a half-step back, gripping his dagger in a reverse hold, his cold eyes searching for an opportunity to strike.

Even near the bar and at the stairwell, two men each stood guard, cutting off all avenues of retreat.

Cold sweat instantly beaded on Holland’s forehead, and his heart hammered heavily in his chest.

He quickly scanned the carefully laid encirclement, cursing silently.

’Damn it... Ogre is dead set on forcing my hand this time. That Ranger’s arrows are definitely poisoned. The two guys in front are Heavy Guards or Fortress Warriors—tough as hide, incredibly strong. I can’t win in a direct confrontation.’

’That bastard Riley specializes in striking at openings... not to mention the seven or eight other experienced thugs surrounding me...’

He instantly assessed the overwhelming disparity in strength between them.

Never mind Ogre himself—as a Half-beastman, his innate monstrous strength and ferocity were a given. His men alone were clearly a small but well-equipped and veteran combat squad of Transcendents.

At his peak, he might have been able to hold his own for a while, but now the Holy Light’s response was sluggish, and his stamina hadn’t fully recovered...

A heavy sense of powerlessness and a sharp premonition of danger washed over him like ice water.

Just at this tense moment, with weapons drawn and the situation about to explode, a calm voice clearly cut through the suffocating air.

"Hand over the Blood Crystal, Mr. Holland."

As the voice fell, to Holland’s astonishment, Roland gently patted his tense shoulder, signaling for him to calm down.

Then, the black-haired youth whom Holland had been subconsciously shielding stepped out from beside him at an unhurried pace.

He walked through the encirclement of menacing thugs with their predatory gazes and stopped before Ogre’s wooden table, which was piled high with clutter and stained with wine.

Tilting his head up slightly, he looked at the Half-beastman leader who stood like an iron tower.

Even with Roland’s height, he still had to look up slightly to meet Ogre’s eyes.

At such a close distance, the oppressive feeling from the man’s physique, far more massive than a normal person’s, was even more palpable, like facing a ferocious beast in human skin.

’These mixed-bloods’ Constitution gives them such a remarkable innate advantage in Power and physique...’

Roland mused to himself.

Ogre looked down, gazing at the "scrawny" human youth who had walked up to him on his own initiative. A flash of surprise crossed his coarse face, quickly replaced by thick scorn and a hint of playful curiosity.

"Heh... Kid, you’ve got guts. Look at you, all soft and delicate. Instead of waiting quietly on the side for your punishment, you run out here to play the hero?"

He waved his fan-like hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly.

"Get lost and stay put. After I’m done with this ungrateful Priest, I’ll come back and take ’good’ care of you."

The moment his words fell, Ogre stopped holding back. The latent aura around him, like a dormant volcano, erupted violently.

WHOOM!

It wasn’t a true roar, but a vast and imposing pressure originating from the depths of his bloodline—a mixture of wildness, Chaos, and pure, savage will that spread out violently from Ogre like an invisible tide.

The air inside the tavern seemed to instantly grow thick and heavy, and even the light warped and dimmed.

This aura was somewhat similar to a Berserker’s frenzied battle intent, yet it was completely different.

It lacked the focus and direction of battle intent, possessing instead a primal Chaos drawn from his bestial bloodline, the naked Law of the jungle where the strong devour the weak, and a brutal contempt for Order and civilization that was bone-deep within him.

Wherever the aura reached, Boss Karen’s face turned deathly pale behind the bar. The rag in her hand fell to the floor, and she could barely breathe.

Even the surrounding thugs—including the considerably powerful Transcendents—had faces flushed red or turned blue, veins bulging on their foreheads. As if under an invisible weight, they struggled to breathe, their eyes instinctively betraying awe and Fear.

Even Holland subconsciously hunched his back the moment the aura hit him. The faint light flowing over his Holy Emblem flickered rapidly, as if spontaneously resisting this oppressive force filled with blasphemy and Chaos.

However, Roland, at the center of this oppressive might, remained as motionless as a reef in a raging current.

He didn’t even spare a glance for the erupting, wild aura, merely gazing calmly into Ogre’s light-brown eyes, which glinted with malice.

Then he raised his hand and pointed directly at the dark, eight-sided die sitting amidst the clutter on the table.

"That thing..."

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clearly through the thick air.

"Where did you get it?"

Hearing this completely irrelevant and demanding question, Ogre glanced around, a flicker of shock on his coarse face before he split his mouth into a grin and let out a booming laugh.

As if he’d heard the most absurd joke in the world, even the surrounding thugs broke into scornful expressions.

"HAHAHA! Kid, did you get your brains scrambled from fear?"

Ogre’s laughter stopped abruptly, his eyes turning incredibly vicious.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re worthy of questioning me?!"

Before his words had even faded, he lost his last shred of patience.

His giant, fan-like hand clenched into a fist, stirring a foul wind as he threw a simple, brutal punch straight at Roland’s face.

Before the fist arrived, the force of the blow was already enough to stir the black hair on Roland’s forehead. The Power it contained could smash a normal person’s head like a watermelon.

"Rudolph! Dodge!"

Holland’s eyes looked ready to split.

Although the oppressive aura had slowed his reaction by half a beat, he still threw himself forward recklessly, trying to shove Roland out of the way while instinctively swinging his nail head hammer to block.

But it all happened too fast.

The expected scene of shattering bones and flying flesh and blood did not occur.

Ogre’s powerful punch, heavy enough to shatter stone tablets, came to a sudden halt just an inch from Roland’s face.

A hand that looked long and, compared to Ogre’s massive, mortar-sized fist, even seemed somewhat "slender," had at some point firmly grasped Ogre’s wrist.

The savage grin on Ogre’s face froze instantly, replaced by a trace of incredulous shock.

He felt as if his wrist were caught in a red-hot iron vise. The irresistible force not only completely neutralized the impact of his punch but also rendered him immobile.

He let out a subconscious roar, the muscles on his thick arm bulging and veins popping as he used all his strength to either pull his fist back or press it forward, but the hand gripping his wrist remained as steady as a rock, not moving in the slightest.

No matter how much strength he exerted, it was like an ant trying to shake a tree.

"It seems... you’re all bark and no bite?"

A soft murmur, as if carrying a faint trace of disappointment, clearly reached Ogre’s ears.

Ogre snapped his head up, his gaze meeting the pair of human eyes just inches away.

No, those were no longer purely human eyes.

The once-deep black pupils had now transformed into a majestic, cold, molten gold.

His pupils had constricted and elongated into vertical slits, like those of a supreme predator from ancient legends, perched atop its hoard and looking down upon all living things.

Under the gaze of those eyes, Ogre felt a cold shudder, born from the most primal instinct of his very being, shoot up his spine and through his entire body. Even the wild will boiling in his bloodline seemed to freeze for an instant.

「The next moment...」

Without giving Ogre any chance to react or struggle, Roland’s five fingers tightened abruptly around his wrist.

CRACK! A sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed clearly.

Immediately after, amid Ogre’s savage expression contorting in agony, and under the dumbfounded gazes of Holland and all the surrounding thugs, Roland twisted his waist slightly and abruptly put force into his arm.

Ogre’s massive, tower-like body was swung up single-handedly by Roland like a worn-out burlap sack, carving an arc of brutal elegance through the air.

Then, accompanied by the whistling wind and Ogre’s own furious, astonished roars, the colossal body shot like a stone from a giant catapult, crashing violently into a corner of the tavern piled high with empty barrels.

CRASH!

In the deafening impact, splinters and dust erupted into the air, followed by the unending roar of shattering barrels and the crumbling wall.

It was as if the very earth had trembled.