Chapter 610 - 42: A Sword in Return

Chapter 610: Chapter 42: A Sword in Return

He looked at Alonso, his eyes filled with fear, despair, and disbelief.

So, Alonso wasn’t helping him.

Alonso was pushing him into the abyss in the most dignified, yet most cruel, way possible.

Making him walk toward his own destruction.

Making his death seem uneventful, a matter of course.

Tears streamed down Pittman’s face.

He struggled desperately, trying to break free from the invisible force sealing his mouth. He wanted to scream "No," to beg, to kneel and kowtow.

But he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t utter a single word.

Alonso watched him, a faint smile on his face.

It was the exact same smile he wore when Pittman had humiliated him moments ago.

"Fine," Murphy’s voice was calm. "As you wish."

Hearing this, Alonso’s heart skipped a beat.

’It worked.’

’It really worked.’

He suppressed the wild joy in his heart, bowed deeply, and spoke with a reverent, pious voice:

"Thank you, My Lord."

Murphy looked at him and continued:

"Now, it is time for you to pay the price."

"Are you ready?"

Alonso raised his head and looked into those pitch-black eyes.

Those eyes were as calm as a pool of stagnant water.

Alonso took a deep breath.

He knew, of course, that there was no such thing as a free lunch.

From the day he first made a name for himself in the Old Realm, he had understood this principle.

To get something, one must pay a corresponding price.

This was an immutable Law.

Besides, what he had received today wasn’t an opportunity or a promise, but a tangible result.

Pittman, the man who had humiliated, oppressed, and tormented him for a whole year, had just been pushed into the abyss.

Moreover, his future would be boundlessly brilliant; he would advance toward the realms of a Level 2, Level 3, and even a Fourth or Fifth Level Wizard.

Such a result was worth any price.

Alonso didn’t know what Murphy would demand.

But he knew that no matter the demand, it couldn’t be worse than his current situation.

It couldn’t be worse than a future of being forever in debt, forever wearing a cheap uniform, forever standing at a door and smiling at every passerby.

It couldn’t be worse than the fate of gradual degeneration, of sinking into obscurity, and ultimately ending up as raw material in a laboratory.

So, he was ready.

No matter the price.

"My Lord."

Alonso’s voice was steady, without a hint of a tremor.

"I am ready. The loyalty pact, I can sign it. I’ve had it prepared for a long time."

He was telling the truth.

From the moment he landed in the New Realm, he knew that to survive here, to make a name for himself, he had to attach himself to a powerful figure.

He once planned to submit this pact to a small Wizard Organization that was willing to accept him.

But fortunes are unpredictable, and that past was gone with the wind.

But now, he had seized his opportunity.

Murphy looked at him and shook his head slightly.

"Not enough."

Alonso froze.

’A loyalty pact isn’t enough?’

’Then what else does he need?’

His mind raced, but he kept the respectful expression on his face.

"My Lord, whatever else you require, please just say the word."

There was a hint of urgency in his voice, which he quickly suppressed.

"As long as it’s within my power, I will definitely—"

Before he could finish, Murphy cut him off.

"And this."

Murphy’s voice was calm, as if he were speaking of some trivial matter.

But the instant the words left his mouth—

A flash of Crimson sword-light appeared out of thin air!

The sword-light was condensed to its absolute limit, blazing to the extreme, as if tearing a blinding fissure in space as it shot straight for Alonso’s forehead!

Fast!

Unbelievably fast!

So fast that Alonso had no time to react!

He could only watch, wide-eyed, as the sword-light grew closer, brighter, and ever more intense.

He felt a piercing pain in the center of his brow.

It was the aura of death.

A true, absolute, inescapable death.

The Magic Power in his body surged wildly. He wanted to construct a defense, to activate a Shield, to do *something* to block this sword-light.

But there was no time.

Too slow.

His reaction, his Magic Power, his everything—it was all as slow as a crawling snail before this sword-light.

He could only wait for death.

Alonso’s pupils contracted violently.

Thirty years.

He had lived in the New Realm for thirty years.

For thirty years, he had worked the most menial jobs, eaten the cheapest food, and lived in the most dilapidated houses.

For thirty years, he had seen countless people sink into depravity, countless people die, countless people ground to dust by this world.

But he had never thought that he would die like this.

Pierced through the brow by a flash of sword-light, falling silently onto this gray-white land.

In that moment, countless thoughts flashed through Alonso’s mind.

Memories of the Old Realm.

The struggles in the New Realm.

The days when he had been high and mighty.

The moments of bowing and scraping.

And, the unfairness of it all.

He truly could not accept it.

He had waited ten years for this chance to come again.

He had waited ten years to see another glimmer of hope.

But now, the chance and hope he had waited for was death itself.