"You have changed, mongrel," Alastor said in a low, menacing voice. "And I don't like this change."

Raizel sighed, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Alastor, there's nothing between me and Miss Rose. We're just friends."

"Just friends?" Alastor scoffed, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Then why did she reject me and say that you're something more to her?" His fists clenched as his tone rose with fury. "Because of you, I got rejected!"

Raizel could already piece together what must have happened. Cecilia probably didn't like Alastor and used him as an excuse to turn him down.

"But why me? Couldn't she have chosen a better excuse?" he thought bitterly.

Whether intentionally or not, that girl had just given him a massive headache.

Unfair or not, the assailants and Alastor all invoked their magic spells. Their intent was clear—they wanted to kill him.

And that was simply intolerable.

Raizel had a moral line he hadn't crossed yet, but if he had to, he wouldn't hesitate.

"In fornt of everyone, you stopped my punch, didn't you?" Alastor sneered, his grin twisted with malice. "But can you stop this?"

With a sudden burst of energy, a violent tornado of compressed air swirled into existence from his palm. The howling wind churned with force, lifting dust and debris into the air.

"Today, you'll understand the true power of a Yellow Talent," he cackled. "Because you stand before a Wind Mage—something you can never become in your lifetime!" His voice dripped with condescension.

But he wasn't just spewing empty words. The air tornado rapidly grew, its spiraling force becoming more menacing by the second.

The masked assailants instinctively backed away, making room for their master to showcase his prowess.

Some even clapped, their sycophantic applause echoing in the alley like the barks of loyal dogs.

Raizel had to get serious now. That Air Tornado was no joke.

[ Null Field (E) ]

Instantly, he activated his first Antimagic Spell. A dark crimson aura spread subtly around him, distorting the surrounding mana.

But he didn't just stand still—he charged straight toward the tornado, closing the distance between him and Alastor.

Alastor watched with ridicule, as if witnessing a fool willingly walking to his death.

He was confident—no, certain—that his Air Tornado would shred anyone to pieces.

But his smirk didn't last long.

Because right before his eyes, something astonishing happened. His mighty, formidable tornado—so chaotic, so destructive—vanished into nothing the moment Raizel stepped within its reach.

"What the—?!"

Before he could fully process his shock, Raizel was already upon him, his blade flashing toward his exposed form.

Hastily, Alastor summoned his weapon. It was a finely crafted spear of hardened metal, sharp and deadly.

He swung it with trained precision, intercepting Raizel's sword just in time.

"Clang!"

Steel met steel, ringing through the narrow alley like a war drum.

Raizel's sword, already damaged, cracked further at the edges.

But Alastor wasn't unscathed either.

He was forced to his knees, his joints screaming in pain from the sheer force of impact. A surge of pressure weighed down on him like an unmovable mountain, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

His arms trembled as he struggled to keep his spear steady. Yet, despite his resistance, Raizel's sword was only millimeters away from slicing his throat.

His heart trembled.

This was not the weakling he once looked down on.

"Come here, you morons! Save me!" Alastor screamed, desperation creeping into his voice.

The masked assailants sprang into action, weapons drawn. Among them were seasoned players, their hands already glowing with mana as they unleashed an onslaught of magical attacks.

But the moment they stepped within range—every single spell fizzled into nothingness.

Their eyes widened in sheer horror.

Their greatest strength, their magic, had been stolen in an instant.

"What… what the hell is this?!" one of them stammered, staring at his lifeless hands as if they had betrayed him.

Raizel didn't have time to relish their confusion.

He knew hesitating would only make things worse. His stamina was already depleting from maintaining [Null Field], and once it ran out, he'd be surrounded by armed killers with a thirst for his blood.

He had no choice.

He had to strike.

This time, there was no indirect cause. No accident. No enemy falling victim to their own recklessness.

This time, he would be the one to take a life with his own hands.

But as a 33-year-old man trapped in a young body, he didn't hesitate like an inexperienced kid. His mind had long since learned to make ruthless decisions when survival was at stake.

With cold resolve, he deactivated [Null Field] and immediately switched to [Red Berserker (F)].

A rush of raw power flooded his veins. His muscles swelled, and his physique expanded rapidly. His chest, abdomen, biceps, and legs hardened with bulging muscle mass, his skin taking on a reddish hue. Steam rose from his body, mixing with the sweat that poured from his exertion.

The transformation was monstrous as his entire form radiating sheer brute force.

The air around him grew suffocating.

The masked assailants took an instinctive step back.

They had been confident before. Armed and outnumbering him, they had been certain of their victory.

Now?

They felt like prey standing before a beast.

But among them were those who wielded physical enhancement spells—fighters who weren't reliant on magic alone.

They had a chance.

The swordsmen and gunmen among the group tightened their grips on their weapons, stepping forward to intercept Raizel.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunshots rang out, the sharp cracks of bullets splitting the silence.

But Raizel was already gone.

His body blurred, dashing forward with superhuman speed.

Before the gunman could even process what had happened, Raizel was standing right in front of him.

The young gunman's eyes widened in sheer terror.

Despite being a level 13, despite all the training he had undergone, he hadn't even seen Raizel move.

"Swoosh!"

A silver flash cut through the air.

Then the gunman saw the world spin.

No It wasn't the world that was spinning. It was his head.

His decapitated head tumbled to the ground, rolling like a discarded meatball.

Seeing this, others froze.

For a second, there was only stunned silence. Then—

"Blurgh!" Someone clamped a hand over their mouth, barely holding back vomit.

"Y-you… you killed Jack…" Alastor's voice trembled.

Raizel turned his gaze toward him, tilting his head slightly.

"Jack…?"

So that was his lackey.

Raizel had just killed his former classmate.

And judging by their reactions, the others were either his classmates as well or local thugs from the underworld.

He hadn't known.

But did it matter?

They had come to hunt him down. They had come to kill him.

It was only fair that they paid the price.

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