CHAPTER 49: CHAPTER 0050: THE ENIGMA VS THE ILLUMINATI

Modret was horror-stricken as he stared at the lineup of the Illuminati.

A devastating pressure erupted from the bunch, crashing down on him. He stabilized himself, staring at them warily.

The biting chill of the snow-covered ground seemed to intensify under the weight of their presence.

Suddenly, a red warning tab glowed in his line of vision.

[Detected a tampering with the Shadow Servant.]

[Initiating the destruction process.]

Subconsciously glancing at the system’s words, Modret snapped his gaze in the direction of Aeron, who was bound within an ice sculpture.

A plaque bearing a triangle with a pupilless eye in the middle was affixed to the ice above his head.

Feeling as though something vital had cracked within him, Aeron widened his eyes and shouted fiercely.

His voice was raw and desperate, cutting through the frosty air.

"Iron Hand! Kill him! He will bring destruction to the organization! He has a great se—"

His words were abruptly cut short as his body exploded outwards, turning into a mass of blood and flesh that splattered into the surroundings, dyeing the pristine snow a vivid, sickening red. The metallic scent of fresh blood immediately assaulted Modret’s nostrils.

All seven figures glanced at the sight, their gazes briefly turning toward Aeron’s remains.

Iron Hand, the figure with the purple mask, frowned for a moment and turned his gaze back to Modret before letting out a soft sigh.

"He was a pretty decent member of the organization. I liked him, you know..." It was as though he was sympathizing with his death as he chatted idly with Modret.

His voice sounded youthful, like someone of a similar age to Modret, and Modret could sense a genuine tone of sorrow in his words.

"I’m sorry for your loss. He was great company..." he replied sincerely.

Iron Hand let out a chuckle, not expecting Modret to answer him.

His nerves felt slightly relaxed as he laughed, speaking in an even, almost conversational tone. "He truly was... unfortunately, he had to fall into the hands of the Enigma."

As he spoke, his eyes squinted slightly at Modret, noting every subtle change in his expression.

Modret’s eyes widened briefly before his expression snapped back to normal; however, his heart was beating erratically against his ribs.

’This... I recall when I told the blue-masked lady under the umbrella three about the Enigma. What the hell? How do they know about it? And now they are tampering with my shadow connection to my Shadow Servants.’

’Just who the hell are the Illuminati? What is their purpose and goal? And how do they possess such terrifying means??’

Many thoughts surfaced in his mind, yet outwardly, he raised a brow and asked, his voice laced with feigned curiosity, "The Enigma?"

Iron Hand shook his head, abruptly changing the topic. "I want to kill you."

Modret was stumped by the bluntness of the statement, yet he could sense the firmness in Iron Hand’s youthful voice. He truly wanted to kill him.

Modret tensed up, feeling as though he was being eyed by a savage beast ready to pounce.

"Many people want to kill me; you’ll have to get to the back of the line..." Modret said casually, causing Iron Hand to laugh heartily.

"I like your sense of humor, Modret. Join our organization; I truly don’t want to kill you!" Iron Hand’s voice was filled with a surprising warmth, and Modret could tell that he genuinely thought of him as a potential brother, wanting him to join their ranks.

"Unfortunately, I will have to refuse; I like being a free man," he declined smoothly.

"We aren’t held by shackles..." Iron Hand turned to the other six blue-masked figures and continued, "Master has given us all purpose. He can give you one too..."

"Master?" Modret was unconcerned with the rest of his statement, his curiosity piqued only by the master he was talking of.

If his guess wasn’t wrong, the person who was able to interfere with the shadow’s connection both times should be the master in question.

Iron Hand shook his head with a touch of regret. "It’s truly a pity. It seems no matter what I say, you won’t join our organization."

Iron Hand could tell—no matter how he tried to convince him—the youth would never join them.

He felt a pang of sadness in his heart as he reached behind his back, taking out his dual swords. The polished metal glinted briefly in the light.

"You use weapons?" Modret asked, genuinely curious as he watched the youth draw his blades.

"Yes, I do. I’m very dangerous with them both; please be careful..."

Modret couldn’t understand Iron Hand at all.

Was he here to kill him or to sympathize with him?

’Maybe he has a twisted mind?’ guessing silently in his heart, lightning and black fire began to surface around him, crackling with raw, elemental power.

"Interesting abilities... I knew you didn’t just possess one ability. Is it also at SS-grade?" Iron Hand paused his movements, staring at the elemental attributes for a second before asking, his voice regaining an edge of focus.

Modret shook his head. "I won’t comment on that. I’d like to leave some tricks for myself. How about you? What’s your ability?"

"Haha," Iron Hand laughed and replied casually. "My ability enhances my speed and makes me fast, like really fast that you might not be able to keep up!"

"That fast, huh?" Modret muttered, gazing deeply at Iron Hand as though trying to discern if he was lying.

"You don’t believe me?" Iron Hand sounded disappointed. "Then, watch this..."

As his voice faded, Modret’s danger sense flared up to the maximum, feeling a prickling sensation of intense danger looming over him like a cold shadow.

Snow drifted about in the surroundings as though signaling the start of the battle.

Immediately after the slight cloud of snow finished drifting, Iron Hand’s figure vanished. The spot where he stood was instantly empty.

’How fast!’ Modret drew in a sharp breath, unable to keep up with him at all. His movement was so fast that Modret had to use all his body enhancement abilities just to catch a glimpse of his faint shadow.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Before Modret could realize what was truly happening, a blade moved swiftly in the air, like a graceful but deadly dance.

However, Modret suddenly realized something...

Iron Hand wasn’t attacking him, but Axel!

His eyes widened in shock as he glanced in Axel’s direction.

Lightning crackled for a second before dying down...

Axel’s standing figure was revealed to Modret.

A gust of snow mixed with the wind blew, and his head tilted to the side freely before both the body and head collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.

Modret was horrified...

’What devastating speed!’

[Your Shadow has died. Please gather 1,000 Shadow Fragments to resurrect him.]

The system briefly flashed in front of him, but Modret couldn’t pay it any attention because Iron Hand was upon him.

The cold wind seemed to follow his speed.

Iron Hand’s movements were graceful and precise, and Modret could barely react as a sword appeared in front of him, reaching directly toward his heart.

The chilling intensity in the eyes beneath the purple mask caused Modret to feel a chill unlike any he had felt before...