CHAPTER 122: HORROR—KILL STREAK

Leon was strolling through the streets of the city of Hemsburg with an amused expression on his face, his steps slow even though he had two other rats to find. He leisurely walked.

But suddenly, his head snapped toward a street artist. She stood poised with a brush in hand, glasses perched low on her nose, dressed in formal attire marred by blotches of ink and smudges of color.

The faint scent of linseed oil and dried paint hung around her like a subtle aura. Her calm expression never wavered as her gaze moved deliberately across his form, brush tip twitching slightly—measuring him, dissecting him, seeing him not as a man but as a living canvas.

It stirred Leon’s curiosity, enough for him to pause and step closer.

He approached the female artist, and his voice sounded in her ear.

"Are you trying to draw me? I’ve seen you sizing me up and staring at me blatantly."

She bridged her glasses with a single finger, her movement precise, and answered him—voice low, yet unwavering.

"Of course. When an artist such as myself sees something worth remembering, we capture it with our brush. I won’t shy away from it."

Leon nodded slightly, his expression unreadable.

"You truly are something."

"You truly are a fine gentleman, sir. Let me draw you—this one’s on the house."

Despite his calm reply and her offer, in the very next instant, snap!—his hand flashed forward, seizing her wrist with an iron grip.

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek, and a wide smile stretched across his face. His mystical eyes sharpened like blades, and he spat out venomous words.

"Do you think I wouldn’t recognize you?"

"What are you talking about, good sir? You shouldn’t hold a lady’s hand without her permission."

"Hehehe... You’re such a crafty one. If not for my abilities, I would have never guessed it was you."

The woman’s heart pounded like a war drum against her ribs. How had this monster found her? Her disguise was flawless. Rather than appearing nervous, she had leaned into the attraction, confident it would throw him off. Her natural talent for drawing had only made the act more convincing—every detail planned, every movement calculated to perfection.

But this handsome man—clearly a devil in disguise—had found her. Still, she couldn’t react. She had to play it off. He might be bluffing. Her disguise was perfect.

Leon’s voice came again like a thorn, the wide smile still on his face.

"A man with an empty beer bottle two alleyways nex—"

Shit. This monster knows.

She didn’t wait any longer. The scene of their leader dying, his throat crushed by this same man, flashed in her mind. She didn’t even try to pull away from his grip. Instead, she poured 90% of her mana into a single attack. She would ignite a massive flame at point-blank range.

He was too close. She didn’t think he’d escape the burn. That would be her chance to get away.

A large surge of mana filled her body, over 50 units—more than enough for one lethal blast.

Only a single sprinkle of flame materialized from her body.

To Leon, who was using his Grandmaster-rank Mana Body, he had more than enough time to react.

It was a pity. He was in need of manual labor, but she had decided to attack him. If she had tried to negotiate, he might have spared her.

Mana surged inside his body, his Rank 7 Ice Affinity flaring. In a second, lethal cold spread from his hand through her entire body, freezing her solid.

She became a statue of ice, her expression locked in shock at the moment of death. She hadn’t even been able to act.

Another message appeared before him, which he ignored.

He stepped back and looked at what he had created.

A woman made of ice, her mouth wide open in horror and shock.

This could definitely scare children. I might use this as a scarecrow.

Leon decided to store the statue of the horrified woman in his inventory.

He couldn’t store living things, but dead ones were fine.

The artist had become the art itself. The pinnacle.

In the bustling city, many people had witnessed the strange sequence of events—from the moment the woman knocked out the man painting in the street. But it wasn’t their business.

Then, a handsome man grabbed the hand of the same woman. He had a noble appearance, so no one reported it to the guards. They didn’t want to get involved in noble affairs.

However, in the next moment, the woman turned into a statue of ice in the blink of an eye—and in the next blink, the statue was gone. Then the nobleman vanished as well.

Those few who had witnessed the scene were shocked. They couldn’t believe what they saw—it felt like a dream.

The guards weren’t alerted. The people moved on with their lives.

And one of those who had witnessed everything was a beggar, a couple of streets away from the spot.

Leon walked out of the alley closest to where the beggar was sitting.

The beggar nearly bit his tongue. The pain was already unbearable—and now this.

Go away! Go away, you monster!!

Please just walk past me! Don’t stop—I can’t even run now!

Leon looked at the first beggar he had seen in Hemsburg and burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha! So funny!"

The beggar, dirt covering his face, kept his head down and trembled, not daring to look at the monster in front of him.

Leon could see the beggar’s torn clothes and mud all over his body. The sight was pitiful—but it didn’t end there.

One of the beggar’s hands was broken, the other unnaturally bent. But there was no blood. That wasn’t all—there was a black eye on his face, and both legs were broken at the kneecaps, joints bent unnaturally.

If you had to call him something, he wasn’t just disabled. Add "The" in front of it. The Disabled.

"Hahaha! You can’t even run now." Despite how funny Leon found the situation, he had to praise the man internally—for his dedication to hiding.

Fuck. I’ve become a laughingstock. He had only planned to break both his hands, but when he saw Mira turn into an ice statue, out of horror, he went all out and broke his legs too. Running wasn’t an option—the monster would catch him.

Hiding hadn’t been a strategy. It had been a reflex—a fool’s hope wrapped in broken limbs.

But it looked like there had never been an option to begin with. The moment they provoked this devil, death was sealed.

He prayed in his heart that the Duke’s eldest son would be next. He was the one who had led them into this execution trap.

His head hit the ground with force—not a small one. A sound cracked through the alley as he began to beg for his life.

"My Lord, I am begging you! Please let me live. The Duke’s eldest son was behind all this—I was just a pawn following orders!"

"Please! I’ll do anything if you let me live—I can even become your slave... I might be weak as an ant compared to you, but I can still do chores! Anything else you might need me for?"

Leon’s smile faded.

He crouched down, eyes gleaming.

"You’ll do anything, huh?"

His question lingered in a silence.

Monster’s silence was worse than a blade.

The beggar didn’t know whether to beg louder or stop breathing altogether.