The crowd gasped as Thren's hands shot up, clamping tightly around the claws, locking it in place just a few inches from his chest.
The face of the aberrant contorted in confusion, the writhing flesh strained as it tried to pull or push, any movement. But it was futile, it was like it's hand was stuck in concrete.
Its instinct screamed of danger, but it was too late. As it tried to jump back, Thren pulled and the impossible happened.
The entire hand came off, torn from its body without much effort. Black blood sprayed out like a geyser.
But Thren wasn't done, his hand turned to a blur grabbing onto the other hand of the creature before it could retreat.
Then he pulled, this time controlling his strength to not straight up detach the hand. His other hand clenched, forming a fist as he pulled the creature towards himself.
His fist drove forward, digging into the flesh of the creature, it's eyes rolling back. The sound from the impact rang out sharp and clear, the aberrants body folded around his fist before flying off, slamming into the metal wall of the arena, raising a dust cloud.
The crowd looked from the wall to Thren, then back at the wall with disbelief, a pin drop silence in the arena.
Then a resounding cheer broke out from one section of the stand then another, till the entire arena of about thirty thousand people were shouting.
The cheer seemed to awaken the aberrants from their stupor as well. Since the humanoid was most likely dead from that strike, there was no one stopping them. They dashed forward, all at once, towards Thren, scurrying to get a piece of him.
But it won't be that easy. No, it was a mistake.
At that moment, the strength Thren felt was overwhelming, his muscles were so taut, struggling to contain the power, it felt like they could burst. He felt like he could take on a Paragon and even win.
So this...
His head turned to the lunging aberrants.
Was nothing.
In a split second, he disappeared, turned to a blur as he moved out of the way. He dashed between the aberrants like a wraith. There speed was nothing, not to him who felt like he could take on a Paragon—a group of Mutant level aberrants were nothing.
He went low, and punched, decimating an aberrant with one punch, then the next and another. He was like a reaper, everywhere he moved aberrants died and they couldn't react to his speed.
The audience kept cheering like a group of crazed monkeys, feeling the dopamine rush from the action. So far this was the best arena experience, filled with highs and lows, this was what they craved.
But they underestimated the strength rushing through Thren right at that moment, even with the destruction he was wrecking down in the areana. After all those were just low level aberrants, the strongest was just an early distortion.
Besides no matter what, an ordinary human couldn't achieve anything, to them, he was no threat.
Thren stood still with the last aberrant held up high, his small hands holding onto a writhing mass of flesh as he couldn't wrap it around the large neck.
The scene looked almost comical and unbelievable, his small frame lifting a massive abomination.
His fist cocked back and slammed into its stomach, tearing a massive hole as gut and black blood sprayed out the opposite end, smearing onto the wall of the arena.
Thren stood still, panting, his muscles ached. His body was struggling to contain the power.
But nonetheless, he could deal with this level of discomfort.
He threw the head to the side and looked around him the strewn and disembodied bodies of both aberrants and humans, black and red blood seeping into the dirt.
His fist clenched tighter, fingers digging into his palms as he heard the cheering, rage boiling up like a tsunami.
He looked up, I'd kill you all.
"Seems you all forgot my promise." He grinned
Time to make it come tru—
His thought was interrupted as he felt a sudden premonition, the back of his neck suddenly tingling.
Before he could react, something slammed into his back, jerking his body forward.
«CRITICAL INJURY DETECTED»
«INITIATING SELF HEALING»
What?
Blood spilled out of his mouth as pain flared from his chest.
He looked down to see a spear head, glistening with blood, sticking out of his chest.
That's definitely not supposed to be there.
The crowd cheered even louder, thunderous even, but it wasn't as loud to him. It was like a mosquito whistling around his ear, as he slowly turned.
«LEVEL INSUFFICIENT»
«DEATH IMMINENT »
«WARNING: INSUFFICIENT ESSENCE FOR SELF HEALING»
«DEATH IMMINENT »
He ignored the prompts, his eyes focused on the figure in the stands, encased in thick black armour, another spear in hand.
The next second, the spear tore through the air. He could only watch as the spear approached, piercing straight through his lungs making him stagger back.
Then another, piercing into his chest again.
Thren dropped to his knees, spears stuck both in front and at his back, blood pooling beneath. But his eyes stayed focused on that figure, the Chief Enforcer, an Acolyte.
And I thought I could take on a Paragon, he tried to chuckle but instead blood seeped out.
A common Acolyte huh.
He looked up at her once more, a spear in her hand again.
I'd remember you, was the last thing that came to mind as his vision tilted, his head hitting the dirt.
This doesn't feel so bad...I wonder why they kept figh...
The thought never completed as everything went black.
«DEATH»
The system pinged as his heart beat its last.