Chapter 120 | Killing Gerald!

Chapter 120: 120 | Killing Gerald!

The entire clearing had transformed into a wasteland.

Trees had been reduced to stumps. Boulders had been pulverized to gravel. The Blood Moon above was fading, its crimson light bleeding from the sky like a sunset, leaving behind only the natural gray of the forest canopy.

Silence fell, absolute silence filled the entire place.

Gerald looked up and strangely, he smiled.

"It’s no wonder the Crimson family put a bounty on your head," he rasped. Thick, dark blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

His voice was a wreck, a wet gurgle of damaged lungs and torn throat.

"An S-grade... no. I’m sure you’re not just an S-grade." He paused, studying Andrew’s face with those fading crimson eyes. "You’re at least an SS-grade talent. An Ultra with SS-grade potential."

He laughed.

"The entire city has never seen an SS-grade talent before." He closed his eyes. "It’s an honor... to die by the hands of one."

He pasued and something flashed in his eyes.

"Before I die," he said, "can you do me one favor..."

"Swish!"

Andrew’s blade severed his neck before Gerald even finished his sentence.

A single horizontal arc that separated head from shoulders with the precision of a guillotine.

Gerald’s expression froze mid-word. His lips were still shaped around the vor in favor, when his entire body toppled sideways, hitting the ground, and did not move.

The Blood Moon above him flickered one final time and went out.

Andrew knew from experience. Letting an opponent talk was how you died. Monologuing was for fools and corpses.

Moreover he used it to turn the tide around once. He would never let another do it to him.

The clearing fell silent.

---

Jasmine, Michael and Lucy, stood at the edge of the destruction, frozen.

They had watched as a fifteen-year-old boy drove a level 35 assassin to his knees and took his head.

Their faces were blank as the scene was simply impossible for them to comprehend.

It was not supposed to be possible at all.

Yet, Andrew had killed Gerald.

Andrew, a level 10 kid.

The boy had killed the assassin.

Michael was the first to find his voice. "The younger generation," he said, and the words came out hoarse. "The younger generation will always surpass the older."

It was an old saying. Something that old warriors said to young ones to give them hope, to tell them that the future would be brighter than the past.

But here, now, standing in the ruins of a battlefield that should have been their grave, the words felt true.

They shook their heads in wonder.

---

Andrew stood over the corpse, breathing hard as the adrenaline faded, and in its place came the heavy, bone-deep exhaustion that followed extreme exertion.

The wounds Gerald had inflicted were healing, his constitution working to repair the damage, but the process was a bit slow.

He didn’t mind it and simply knelt beside the corpse and placed his hand on Gerald’s still chest.

"Extract!"

He extracted Gerald’s blood curse talent first.

The crimson energy knitted itself into his own system.

Then he found something else.

A bloodline.

Blood Vampire.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he examined the energy signature. It was an Origin-grade bloodline, the lowest tier of the bloodline classification system. Not the most impressive acquisition. An Origin-grade bloodline was the equivalent of a common card in a deck that included rare, epic, and legendary options. It wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t much.

But Andrew’s lips twitched. Not the most impressive acquisition, but he knew something that most people didn’t. With enough investment points, even an Origin-grade bloodline could be cultivated. Upgraded. Evolved into something far beyond its original state. A seed was not a tree, but given the right soil and the right care, a seed could become a tree. And this seed, the Blood Vampire bloodline, had potential.

So Andrew wasn’t disappointed. He absorbed the bloodline, and stood up.

No one spoke.

Jasmine broke the silence first. She turned to Michael and Lucy, her expression grave, and held their gazes.

Jasmine turned to Michael and Lucy. "You must keep this a secret," she said, her voice low and serious. "All of you. We all keep it. No one speaks of what happened here. No one mentions Andrew’s name in connection with Gerald’s death. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Michael said.

"Agreed," Lucy said.

John hesitated, then: "Agreed."

Andrew was satisfied with their words and actions and he looked at them, one by one, and nodded. Then he said, "John is on his way."

Everyone turned to look at him. But Andrew’s eyes were focused on something distant, something beyond the trees, some sense that none of them possessed or understood.

"He’s separated from Gerald’s squad," Andrew said. "He’s injured but he’s on his way. He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes."

No one asked how he knew. They looked at him, seeing him differently now.

They didn’t understand what they were seeing, and they didn’t try. They just nodded and waited.

---

Fifteen minutes later, John arrived.

He looked terrible. His clothes were torn and stained with blood, his own blood from the look of the wounds crisscrossing his arms and torso.

He had a gash across his forehead and his left arm was held against his body.

After racing the spider monster, he had encountered four of Gerald’s squad members and the battle was quite intense.

When he saw Jasmine, Lucy, and Michael standing in the clearing, his shoulders sagged with relief.

"Thank goddess you guys are alright." He exhaled, running a bloodied hand through his disheveled hair. "Were you waiting for me? Alright, let’s move. Let’s quickly get all of you up and out of here before..."

His voice trailed off.

His eyes had caught the corpse on the ground.

He stopped mid-stride. His right foot hung in the air for a moment before slowly lowering to the ground. ℯℯ𝑙.

His gaze locked onto the body, tracking from the boots to the torn jacket to the crimson veins still faintly visible on the skin to the neck, or rather, the absence of a neck, the dark stain of blood that had pooled beneath the severed stump.

The unmistakable features of Gerald, the insane assasin, actually dead in the dirt.

John’s mouth opened, closed. Opened again but no sound came out.

"What the fuck happened?"