CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 0051: FACING OFF AGAINST THE PURPLE MASKED ILLUMINATI

Iron Hand’s sword instantly shot toward Modret’s heart.

At the last possible moment, Modret twisted sharply to the side, barely evading a fatal blow.

Even so, the weapon still skewered his chest, and his hot blood immediately stained the pristine snow.

"You’re truly slow, Modret," Iron Hand commented, a faint, chilling smile playing on his lips.

Modret quickly staggered backward, putting distance between himself and his attacker.

He desperately clutched his chest, the pain a searing, unbearable agony.

His gaze fixed on Iron Hand, a tremor of shock running through him at the masked assailant’s sheer power.

’Even with all my abilities, I still can’t keep up with him!’ Modret conceded internally, his mind racing to construct a new strategy.

"Hmm?" Iron Hand finally exhaled, his attention drawn to the precise spot his sword had struck.

To his astonishment, Modret’s wound was already mending. The exposed flesh on his chest rapidly knitted itself back together.

"How interesting, it’s almost like the Celestial..." Iron Hand murmured, his voice laced with a strange admiration as he studied Modret. "To think your regeneration speed is so fast; it’s nearly on par with theirs."

Modret remembered the terrifying healing factor of the dungeon creatures he’d faced. ’Just as I suspected, the Celestial Gates didn’t just appear here; they’re most likely manifesting all over this world,’ he thought grimly.

"I wonder how many more abilities you’re hiding, Modret!" Iron Hand roared wildly, then lunged again.

His figure blurred, creating a dizzying succession of afterimages before he completely vanished from Modret’s sight.

’From the left!’ Modret’s danger sense screamed a frantic warning.

He snapped his head to the left, his body instinctively wreathed in a protective shell of crackling lightning and roaring black fire.

Bang!

The trajectory was exactly as predicted.

Iron Hand’s sword sliced in from the left, aiming straight for his neck, only to collide violently with the combined shield of lightning and fire.

The force of the impact was tremendous, sending Modret flying.

He crashed heavily into a large ice sculpture nearby, which shattered into a thousand glittering shards that mingled with the snow.

He immediately scrambled to his feet, glancing around.

Surrounding him now were the six blue-masked figures.

’They don’t want me to escape!’ he realized, steadying himself as he desperately sought a counterattack.

He summoned his System screen, frantically scrolling through his numerous abilities, struggling to find a solution to this overwhelming crisis.

He was given no time to recover. A faint whistling sound echoed, and before Modret could fully react, Iron Hand was upon him again, his sword pointed at his ribs.

"How dare you be distracted while facing me, Modret!" Iron Hand’s voice betrayed a hint of displeasure at the slight.

However, Modret could barely spare a thought for him, focusing only on coating his body once more in his fiery lightning armor.

Squelch!

The sword plunged unimpeded into Modret’s ribs, eliciting a sharp, stinging cry of pain before Iron Hand swiftly wrenched it free.

Modret was forced to retreat yet again, clutching his side as the injury rapidly sealed itself.

’My mana is running low. I can’t last for much longer...’ he thought, the use of two high-grade abilities simultaneously proving a massive drain on his reserves.

’Mana...’ Modret briefly hesitated.

There was one surefire way to solve this crisis, but a faint sense of reluctance held him back, preventing him from resorting to such a drastic measure.

He lifted his gaze to meet Iron Hand’s.

Through the purple mask, the youth’s eyes were visible, containing a chilling hint of playfulness and underlying madness.

’I haven’t landed a single blow on him since the battle began... and the other members of the organization haven’t even attacked yet,’ Modret observed, his gaze lingering briefly on the encircling masked figures as he calculated his next move.

Noticing Modret’s silence after his taunt, Iron Hand let out a theatrical sigh and pressed him.

"Modret, what’s going through your mind? Are you finally considering joining our organization?"

A genuine, albeit strained, smile touched Modret’s lips. "Nothing like that. I was thinking of how I’ll deal with you."

"Oh?" Iron Hand sounded genuinely surprised. "And how will you deal with me?"

Modret offered no reply. Instead, he straightened his posture.

The lightning and fire surrounding him began to rapidly twist and condense, forging a wicked blade of deep purple lightning and obsidian-black fire.

It radiated an eerie, dreadful aura that sent a noticeable chill spreading through the air.

Iron Hand’s eyes remained completely fearless as he studied the newly formed sword. "You’ll deal with me with that? You truly think too low of me, Modret..." His voice carried a strange, mocking sadness.

Meanwhile, Modret simply smiled. ’This wasn’t my true trump card yet. Rather...’

[S-Grade Ability, Limitless Mana activated. For the next ten minutes, you can use all abilities without consequence.]

Instantly, Modret’s entire aura transformed.

It became so overwhelmingly dreadful that the surrounding blue-masked assassins took a subconscious, shuddering step back.

"Huh?" Iron Hand exclaimed in undisguised astonishment.

The sword in Modret’s grip solidified countless times over, and the sheer pressure radiating from him became almost unbearable, nearly rivaling a warrior at the peak of the Galaxy Realm.

There were countless abilities Modret had always rationalized not using due to his limited mana, but now, with this ability active, he had nothing left to fear.

His heart, however, still burned fiercely in rage.

Every time he acquired a useful ability, the Illuminati always found a way to force him to use it.

’This despicable organization!’ Modret clenched his fist so hard his knuckles whitened.

None of them would be leaving this place today.

’Black Fire Sword Technique: Ashen Sever.’ A terrifying torrent of black flames erupted from the sword in his hand, mixed with snapping, crackling purple lightning.

The surrounding space seemed to warp and melt, as if a hot knife were slicing through butter, as the attack launched forward.

Iron Hand’s eyes widened in genuine alarm as the devastating attack bloomed into the air.

Wherever the sweeping attack passed, a dark, churning river was immediately formed by the intense heat melting the snow and ice beneath.

The serene white world contrasted starkly with the furious black flame slicing across the landscape at lightning speed.

Unable to react in time, Iron Hand could only frantically raise his sword to block the onslaught.

Bang!

The attack struck him with ferocious power, sending him careening backward, smashing through the thick snow.

His form was completely swallowed by the dark flames.

Modret’s hands were badly damaged, cracked like fractured glass.

Thankfully, all his passive healing abilities kicked in simultaneously, regenerating his arms to a perfect state within a few seconds.

’He’s still not dead!’ Glancing at the system, Modret realized he hadn’t yet received the notification for shadow fragments.

Squinting intently at the blast location, Modret slashed out with his sword once more, causing the world of snow to darken under his terrifying power.

’Ashen Sever.’