Chapter 1266: Who Gave You the Balls?

Capítulo 1266: Who Gave You the Balls?

Ethan’s gaze swept coldly over the crowd below. It paused on Garrett for half a beat.

He recognized him—the guy who’d shamelessly latched onto him in Atlas City and forced a few words out of him.

Back then, Garrett had only been Tier 10. Now he was Stage C.

Ethan didn’t care.

A Stage C (Tier 12) was never beating Blizzard. So Ethan kept looking.

He found him fast.

A man in a black robe, face covered so thoroughly you couldn’t even see skin.

The moment Ethan locked onto him, his expression sank.

“Tier 19.”

So that was it.

“No wonder…”

Garrett’s face twisted when he realized Ethan wasn’t even paying attention to him. He stepped forward, voice sharp with irritation.

“Ethan! You remember me or not?!”

Ethan glanced down at him once—empty, chilling, like he was looking at a corpse.

That look made Garrett even angrier.

“Hmph. Even now you’re still acting so arrogant. Looks like you still don’t understand the situation.”

He laughed, nasty and loud.

“Let me tell you something. That ‘trump card’ you were so proud of? Those white-furred apes? We already killed three. The rest are half-dead.”

Garrett’s grin widened into something cruel. “Today, if you kneel down and crawl under my crotch, maybe I’ll be in a good mood and spare your life.”

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Otherwise, I’ll make you beg to live and fail—beg to die and fail.”

“Holy shit—!” Big Mike exploded. “Fuck you. I’ve got a temper, and I’m done holding it in. You wanna make somebody crawl? I’ll make you crawl.”

His ability triggered—Shadow Grasp.

A shadowy hand shot up from the ground, grabbed Garrett by the balls, and yanked hard.

“AAAGH—!”

Garrett shrieked and dropped to his knees with a heavy thunk, folding in on himself, whole body spasming.

Big Mike kicked on his speed and flashed in front of him. One boot came down on Garrett’s back, pinning him.

“Crawl. Over here.”

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Garrett roared. He surged up, face twisted, and a black energy greatsword formed in his hand. He chopped down at Big Mike with everything he had.

“Against me?” Big Mike snorted.

He flicked his hand.

A fireball flew out and smashed the black greatsword to pieces. In the same motion, Big Mike swung his palm backhanded.

SMACK!

The crack echoed.

Garrett spun through the air, turning several times before slamming into the ground. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His eyes went unfocused, like his brain had short-circuited.

“How… how is that possible?” Garrett stared blankly. “I’m Tier 12 now—why can’t I beat him?!”

“Move it,” Big Mike snapped again. “Crawl.”

This time, nobody missed it.

Big Mike was genuinely furious.

Around them, the rest of the crowd finally snapped out of their shock, faces full of disbelief as they stared at Big Mike.

They all knew Garrett had hit Tier 12 with the help of those “lords.”

And yet he was getting toyed with—no room to fight back at all.

So what Tier was this guy?

Was Fallen Star Squad really that freakish…? Just any random one of them could completely虐 a Stage C (Tier 12) powerhouse?

Garrett lifted his head, eyes locked on Big Mike.

He didn’t want to believe it—but he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Fallen Star Squad’s strength… was above Stage C.

Then Garrett’s expression twisted into a manic grin.

“Hahaha! So what if you’re strong? So what if you can beat me?”

He laughed like he’d lost his mind, voice rising.

“You’re still going to get stomped into the dirt. That’s your fate!”

Then he abruptly dropped to his knees toward the black-robed man not far away.

“Marek, sir—please, make a move!”

Marek’s voice was ice. “Hmph. Useless. Get out of my way.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Garrett scrambled back, clutching his crotch, and shot Big Mike a look so vicious it could’ve cut.

You grabbed my balls. I’m paying you back a hundredfold once Marek’s done with you.

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“Big Mike. Back off.”

Ethan’s figure appeared in front of Big Mike in the next instant.

No one saw how he moved. It was like he’d been standing there the whole time.

Even Marek’s brow creased slightly.

Ethan stared at the black-robed figure, voice flat and cold.

“Since you can talk like a human, you should be able to understand me.”

He tilted his head a fraction, gaze sharp as a blade.

“You ugly piece of shit—who gave you the balls to kill people in my Fallen Star City?”

“!!!”

The entire scene went still.

People gaped at Ethan like he’d just committed suicide out loud.

Those black-robed “lords” were infamous for their temper. In Silverlake City, they’d been worshiped like gods—and they killed on a whim.

So how the hell did Ethan dare talk to him like that?

Garrett’s eyes went wide too—then he slowly curled his mouth into a nasty smile as he stared up at Ethan.

“Ethan… Ethan. This is you asking to die.”

“YOU’RE the one asking to die!” Marek shook with rage.

He hated being called ugly.

Back in his old world, he’d swallowed it more times than he could count. Here—on this planet—someone still dared to say it to his face?

That was unforgivable.

A massive black hand of energy appeared out of nowhere and lunged for Ethan, fingers closing like a trap.

“The hell you are,” Ethan snapped.

He vanished—Teleportation—slipping out of the grab by a hair.

Then he reappeared behind Marek like a glitch in reality, his poleaxe already raised. Black light crawled along the blade.

He brought it down hard.

Marek’s eyes flashed with surprise. In the same instant, a black energy shield snapped into place in front of him.

BOOM—!

The impact cracked through the air.

The shield shattered on the spot, fragments of energy bursting outward—and the poleaxe’s remaining force slammed straight into Marek’s body.

“PUFF—!”

Marek spat blood.

His entire body shot backward, tumbling through the air.

“!!!”

The world went silent.

Everyone just stared.

Even the people on Fallen Star City’s side were dumbstruck.

“Our Commander…” someone breathed, voice shaking. “He’s insane…”

Because Ethan and the others were constantly out on missions, most people in Fallen Star City had only heard the stories. Aside from the original group, barely anyone had actually seen Ethan fight.

Now they had.

And the first thing they saw was him dropping that black-robed monster with a single swing.

It made their scalps go numb.

They’d watched Marek crush Blizzard—Tier 13—like it was nothing. They’d watched him casually erase white-furred apes with one slap.

That kind of power had felt untouchable.

And Ethan had just cut straight through it.

In an instant, something lit up in everyone’s chest. Heat. Hope. Fury. Faith.

They stared at Ethan like he was the only thing standing between them and the dark—and for the first time in a long time, it felt like enough.

Off to the side, Garrett’s face went paper-white. His lips trembled, eyes blown wide with disbelief.

“How… how is that possible?”

Marek was a higher being from another world—something meant to be an unfair advantage on Earth, a walking cheat code.

How could Ethan knock him flying with one poleaxe strike?

Garrett felt like he was dreaming.

“No… no…” He shook his head hard, like he could shake reality loose. “That’s not possible!”

Marek was his trump card. His backbone. The reason he’d dared swagger into Fallen Star City and talk like he owned it.

If even Marek wasn’t Ethan’s match…

Then coming here hadn’t been bold.

It had been suicide.

A chill crawled up Garrett’s spine as his own earlier words replayed in his head.

Marek, sir… don’t lose. Please don’t lose… Garrett prayed frantically, panic squeezing his throat. Don’t you dare lose.