Chapter 709: Don’t Praise Me

Grey reached up and loosened his tie first. He tugged it out from under his collar and tossed it somewhere behind him without bothering to look where it landed.

His white shirt had a fist-sized hole through the chest, and the fabric around it was soaked dark with blood from driving his hand through himself. After looking down at the mess for a second, Grey decided there was no fucking reason to keep wearing any of it.

He shrugged off the suit jacket, peeled the ruined shirt away from his skin, and tossed both after the tie. That left his upper body bare under the lights of the challenge platform. Only then did he finally look back at Aelthar.

The Fire Elemental hadn’t moved much since the Genesis System announced the result. The water that had made up his replacement organ was already fading from view as his normal body restored itself.

Grey couldn’t read every thought behind the face staring down at him. Not that he cared to, either. The enormous declaration hanging over the stage had already said everything that needed saying.

VICTOR: GREY TEMOLT

Grey walked over to the small black display case holding the First Echo of Eidon and lifted the translucent shard out of it.

The colors inside kept drifting in slow, ever-changing currents as he rubbed his thumb along one edge. After admiring it for a moment he put it down and he looked back at Aelthar with a grin.

"That’s two for two. We can make it three for three if you really want."

The flames around Aelthar’s shoulders shifted a little. He still didn’t answer.

Grey chuckled and turned away, his attention moving to Breejara instead.

The spider woman had already gotten her professional smile back. However, Grey had heard plenty of delight in her commentary every time he died. He knew exactly how badly she’d wanted this challenge to end differently.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Your commentary wasn’t bad. The more of an annoying piss ant you are, the sweeter it feels."

For maybe half a second, Breejara’s smile got noticeably less professional. Grey’s grin only got wider.

The teleportation formation under his feet activated before she could answer, swallowing him in pale light. At the same moment, the crowd around the auction hall finally let loose the reaction they’d been holding in for the last few moments.

By the time Grey vanished from the stage, the noise was so loud that even the formations around the private bubbles couldn’t fully muffle it.

It wasn’t all cheering, either.

There were plenty of boos mixed in, along with insults, laughter, and so much shouted profanity that Grey suspected he’d somehow managed to offend people from civilizations he hadn’t even heard of yet. That was fine by him.

Nobody liked an asshole. At least, not normally.

Put an asshole on a stage, though, and let him talk shit to everyone around him while he kept proving he could back it up? Suddenly, people started calling him entertaining. Nobody liked the guy who started arguments at dinner, but everyone loved a heel, so long as there was enough distance between them and the consequences.

More importantly, people loved winners. That was the part Grey cared about.

He didn’t need everyone in the Genesis Games to like him. He definitely didn’t need them to think he was a good person.

What he wanted was for every enemy eyeing Earth, his friends, or anything else he considered his to remember two images. Lyssara-0 failing to even touch her monocle, and Aelthar losing an Elemental discipline he’d picked himself.

Someday, somebody was going to decide the warnings weren’t enough. Grey wasn’t na?ve enough to think otherwise.

Eventually, one of these Races, High Races, Betting Favorites, or whatever other bullshit titles people loved collecting would decide that killing him was worth the risk.

Maybe Aelthar would be the first. Maybe Lyssara would decide that humiliation deserved repayment. Or maybe it would be someone Grey hadn’t even met yet, who thought a Cracked World human had gotten far too comfortable speaking above his station.

That day was coming. When it did, Grey wanted them preparing for something a lot worse than they thought they’d need.

Let them overestimate him. Let them spend resources, reveal cards and lose sleep trying to figure out what the fuck Grey Temolt was capable of. That was infinitely more useful than being liked.

Grey materialized back inside the private bubble with the First Echo of Eidon still held between his fingers. The reaction waiting for him was exactly what he’d expected.

James was already on his feet. Brad looked like he was about to start yelling something, and Duke had the face of someone who’d just watched his team win a championship.

Even the people who had spent the last challenge looking half sick were staring at Grey as though he’d grown a second head and fifth limb. Well, sixth limb if you asked Grey about it.

Grey spread his arms.

"Don’t praise me too much, people. Don’t be surprised, I do this shi—"

Something slammed into him.

Grey barely had time to register a blur of dark hair before his back hit the floor, the impact knocking the rest of the sentence out of his mouth.

His first thought was that someone had somehow gotten through the Paragon Class formations around the room. His second thought was a lot more confused, because the person straddling him was Sabrina.

"What the—"

She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

Grey froze, his mind going blank.

Not that Sabrina seemed interested in giving him time to find one, anyway.

There was nothing gentle about it. She kissed him hard enough that the back of his head pressed against the floor, her fingers digging into his hair and her palms squeezing against his cheeks and jaw as though she thought he might vanish again if she loosened her grip even a little.

Grey could feel her hands shaking. That, more than anything, was what finally got through to him.

This was the same woman who had turned away every single time he drove his hand into his chest. She’d watched him die before, and she had still moved to the far side of the room so she wouldn’t have to see it happen again.

As far as she knew, she had only watched him do it once tonight. But Grey had done it four times.

The First Echo of Eidon was still pinched between his fingers. He didn’t let go of it, but his other hand slowly came up and settled against her back.

His bare chest was still smeared with dried blood from the hole that had been there minutes ago. Sabrina didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

When she finally pulled back, it was only a few centimeters. Her forehead stayed pressed against his, and her breathing was just as ragged as his own.

Grey stared up at her. For a man who had spent the entire night talking shit to everyone within earshot, he had absolutely nothing to say.

But his thoughts were consumed by two things.

First, she was hot as hell.

Second... there was no way in hell someone like Sabrina could have tackled him to the ground. What the hell just happened?