The crimson pillar of light erupted, tearing the night sky apart. Savage energy surged out of Crook, drowning the entire city of Gustavo in a blazing red hue like an inferno. The ground split, the air thickened, and every breath felt suffocating.
The two attackers froze in their tracks. Both turned, eyes widening at the sight of the pillar. One of them clenched his teeth, spitting curses:
—"That fat bastard… he really dared to defy the boss."
The other let out a dry chuckle, masking the tremor in his voice:
—"Doesn't matter. As long as he doesn't kill the prey, it's fine. This rotten city hardly gets any hunters anyway."
Meanwhile, Bruno and Drake were cornered against a crumbling wall. Sweat trickled down their faces as they panted heavily, rage flashing in their eyes.
Bruno's fists shook as he growled through clenched teeth:
—"Damn it…! Being attacked for nothing—like we're the criminals here!"
Drake gripped his shoulder, snapping back urgently:
—"Shut it! If we stay here, we're dead!"
By the time the two soldiers turned back, they caught only a glimpse of Bruno and Drake vanishing into the ruins.
—"They're running! After them!!!"
Bootsteps thundered. The hunt had begun.
Bruno and Drake sprinted desperately, the murderous intent from behind pressing down on their backs. Their hearts pounded like war drums. Bruno cast a quick glance at the crimson tower, his voice cracking with fear:
—"What… what the hell is that thing?! The power it's radiating… I could barely even think straight near it!"
Drake gritted his teeth, forcing his pace faster:
—"I don't know… maybe it's the power of those bastards' ally. But that doesn't matter! What matters now is finding Willin and Miliana—before it's too late!"
Bruno bit down hard, resolve burning in his eyes. The two pushed themselves to the limit, dashing like madmen through the shattered maze of the city, while the crimson tower roared behind them—an infernal omen hanging over their heads.
The metallic clank sounded like a verdict as Crook drove his axe into the ground. Dust and gravel rolled across the ruined street, catching the dying red light of the pillar of hell in the distance. He stood framed by smoke and rubble — a living mountain of muscle and rage.
His axe was grotesque: a double-bladed weapon, the right edge crude and massive at nearly six feet, the left shorter at about four yet no less lethal. The haft was wrapped in filthy strips of white cloth, iron chains wound tight around it, long loose lengths trailing on the ground like a living tail. The whole thing looked forged for a single purpose: destruction.
Crook's single red eye swept the wreckage, pausing on Willin — bloodied, torn, but still breathing — then slid to Holland, who was walking forward with a calmness as if he were only window-shopping in a market. Holland's face was far too composed, his smile far too small for a place like this.
-"You're actually serious about this?" Holland said, mocking, his voice flat with a hint of mischief. "Fine. Maybe I'll just use—"
He didn't get to finish.
The axe came down.
Holland's left arm shot up. Metal met flesh and bone with a sound like an ancient tree being felled — steel against muscle, an impact that split the air and sent a shockwave roaring down the shattered lane. Holland's forearm took the blow; blood sprayed in a short arc. He grinned through the flash of pain, a bead of sweat sliding down his jaw.
Both men froze. Willin's eyes flared with panic. Holland's hand trembled, not from fear but from the aftershock of a strike meant to crush a man. Yet he looked oddly exhilarated.
-"Now, now — I wasn't even finished, big guy," Holland taunted, licking the smear of blood from his lip with a calm that made the hairs on Willin's neck rise.
Crook laughed — a wet, twisted sound — his eyes wide in fevered madness. "I'll tear you to pieces!" he roared; the words landed like a physical blow.
He swung again. This time it was more than brute force — the crimson power of the contract poured into the strike. The air screamed, a shockwave erupted, and masonry shattered like brittle bone.
Holland held his ground, but staggered. The blow skimmed past, shearing a chunk from a nearby wall and scattering stone fragments. He hissed softly, pain and calculation flickering across his face.
Willin reeled; instinct screamed at him to act — run, strike, do anything but watch Holland take the hits. His bandaged hands clenched around the strap of his slingshot. He still had arrows, still had a slingshot, but Crook's Gil — that overwhelming fury — pressed on his chest like a weight, slowing thought and reflex.
Crook charged forward like a hurricane of death, the air screaming with each pass as his axe tore through the space, aiming straight for Holland's back.
Holland reacted instantly, blocking the strike with his left hand, but the axe still struck hard, sending his arm flying. Blood splattered through the air. Both of Holland's hands fell to the ground. Willin tried to rush forward, but his body felt frozen, heart pounding, helpless as he watched Crook dominate.
Crook laughed maniacally, his voice echoing like the gates of hell opening:
— "HAHAHAHA! YOU WILL NEVER KILL ME! I AM THE STRONGEST CONTRACT!!"
Holland lay there, blood trickling down, but his eyes seemed to absorb every ounce of power around him. Suddenly, white smoke rose from his arms. Light flickered as strands of energy coiled, and in an instant, both hands regenerated, flawless as if they had never been struck.
Crook's eyes widened, mouth agape, disbelief written all over his face:
— "How… how is this possible?! You're just a normal human… YOU… WHO… WHO ARE YOU?!"
Holland stood tall, shoulders steady, a cold smirk curling across his lips:
— "Who am I? Just a normal student… at least, that's what it seems."
Holland closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The air trembled, dust and smoke swirling around him, and when he opened his eyes, a dense, oppressive wave of Gil radiated outward, threatening to crush everything around Crook. Space itself seemed to shrink, light clashing with thick shadows.
— "Do you… believe in the power of Intellect?" Holland spoke, his voice low, commanding, each word dripping with authority.
Crook raised his hands, trying to resist, but the Gil surged like a vortex, throwing him off balance, his axe slipping from his grasp. He felt his heart constrict, breath shortening, every nerve screaming in chaos. Everything he had once trusted now felt utterly meaningless.
Immediately, Holland vanished in a flash.
BOOM!!
His fist tore through space itself and smashed straight into Crook's stomach. The impact was so devastating that the entire row of buildings behind Crook crumbled like paper. Blood spewed from his mouth as his heavy body was launched into the distance, leaving behind a trail of dust, smoke, and flying debris.
Willin froze, heart pounding in his chest, swallowing hard.
— "H–Hey… Holland, are you really planning to destroy this whole place?"
Holland turned with a sly smirk, eyes glinting mischievously:
— "…Not exactly. The southern district of Gustavo is about to be repurposed into farmland. I figured… no one would mind if I cleared out some rubble for them, right?"
Willin gaped at him, sighing in defeat:
— "God, I just hope you don't get suspended for this…"
..!!!!!!!!!
A piercing sound cut the air. Crook's massive axe flew with a speed faster than sound itself. Willin barely managed to roll to the side, heart nearly stopping. Holland simply tilted his head, dodging effortlessly.
CRAAAASH!!!
The axe slammed down, tearing an entire block of houses apart, shaking the streets violently. Across Gustavo's sky, a blazing red scar split the heavens in half.
Crook stood amidst the ruins, one side of his ribcage torn open, blood dripping thick and dark onto the ground. He roared, voice raw with fury:
— "You think you can kill me that easily?! Don't you dare underestimate me, bastard!!"
Holland exhaled, eyes gleaming as though ready to deliver a proper lesson, when—
SMACK!!!
A massive palm came crashing down onto Holland's head.
— "Oww—!! D–Damn it! Araki, don't sneak up on me like that!!!" Holland yelped, clutching his head, a huge swollen lump already forming, face twisted in pain.
Willin blinked in shock. Before him stood a man wearing the same uniform as Holland, but his body was solid steel, his eyes sharp and unyielding—the eyes of a pure swordsman.
Then, a hand suddenly rested on Willin's shoulder, making him jump out of his skin.
— "Wh–Who's there?!" he shouted, heart leaping to his throat.
A calm voice answered from behind:
— "Relax. I'm with the Hard-Wirrt Academy's medical division. You're Holland's younger brother, right?"
Willin nodded hesitantly, before turning his gaze back to Holland and the muscular man beside him.
— "…Wait. If Holland is the vice-captain… then who's the captain…?"
The medic shrugged lightly, gesturing toward the swordsman.
— "That would be him. Araki. I'm Eobard Olvas… honestly, I don't even know his last name."
Crook trembled with rage, blood and sweat dripping together, his fists clenched so tightly the bones cracked.
— "You bastards… You're ganging up on me!!! Cowards!!!"
— "Do you really want to get suspended? Our mission is to gather supplies in Gustavo, not to start a war and tear the place apart!" Araki growled, cutting words, his gaze like a blade.
— "Sorry about that," Holland smirked, voice teasing, "but if I see my little brother about to be killed, do you expect me to just stand there and watch, Captain?"
SLAP!!
Another thunderous smack landed on Holland's head. Two swollen lumps now rose on his forehead.
Crook roared, voice raw and brutal: —"ENOUGH!!! I'll kill every last one of you… WIPE YOU ALL OUT!!!"
His Gil exploded outward like a black flame devouring the sky. Pressure slammed the air, wind coiled into a vortex, the ground cracked. Willin flinched, shielding his face; cold sweat beaded down his temples.
But Holland, Araki and even Eobard… stood motionless, not a single blink. That calm made Willin's skin crawl; his heart thudded.
Araki spoke slowly, his tone steady but thunderous: — "I'll capture him and bring him back to the academy for examination. As for you,Willin … your only mission now is to go back to the inn and rest. Bring Holland's little brother with you. Leave the rest to me."
His words cut through the roaring wind and settled like iron.
Eobard laid a hand on Willin's shoulder, eyes heavy: — "Come on. I'll take you back."
— "Let me come too! The captain kicked me out, wahhh," Holland whined playfully, face still cheeky.
SLAP!!
Another blow. Holland's forehead now sported three angry, red lumps.
Eobard hoisted Willin onto his back; Holland followed, dawdling. They left the battlefield in a hurry, leaving Araki alone facing Crook.
Araki exhaled, rolled up his sleeve. Muscles corded under the fabric, his eyes cold as steel.
— "Alright. I'll give you three seconds to kill me. If you can't do it in three, I'll put you down in less than one."
His voice didn't need to shout; the authority in it made the air feel dense.
Crook's eyes bulged. He laughed, wild and deranged: — "Hahahaha!!! Don't make me laugh, you idiot!!! Three seconds?! I don't need three seconds to chop your head off!"
He raised his hand, calling his colossal axe back—but—
CLANG!!!
A hand snapped around the haft. With one hand.
Crook's expression went slack; the blood in his veins seemed to freeze. — "No… Impossible… That axe weighs four times an emperor's dragon… How can you—"
Araki casually set the towering axe on his shoulder as if it were nothing. — "Oh really? Fascinating. The Imperial Court chose me — I'm the one who will become the Emperor's greatest swordsman."
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with lethal calm, voice dropping cold as bone: —"Alright then… hit me."
Sweat poured from Crook's brow. His whole body trembled.