Infinite Game - Start With SSS Rank Class-Chapter 151: Is this all you have?

Chapter 151:

"Trash!" Damon roared, the sheer force of his voice turning into a shockwave that blasted outward. "You think being a Rank 6 Survivor makes me scared of you? Go to hell!"

His massive body, clad in a layer of hardened metal, launched itself at the man in black armor.

The man only let out a contemptuous snort, clenching his fist tight, knuckles cracking, metal groaning under strain in a sound that grated against every nerve.

Damon swung a fist the size of an ancient tree stump straight at him.

But the man didn’t flinch. He swung back immediately. No magic. No ability. Just the purest, most raw strength.

And then...

BAM!

A thunderous explosion rang out, the shockwave blasting in all directions and forcing everyone to stumble back.

Dust billowed up and swallowed the entire space, leaving everyone confused and desperate to know the outcome.

"Who... who won?"

"Has to be Damon. He’s got the ability to turn his body into smoke, and Livia used her ’Shell’ ability to buff him on top of that. Damon’s probably untouchable at this point."

"Exactly! Damon was already strong on his own, and with Livia backing him up, in this apartment complex, he’s the undisputed top dog."

"No! I think that young guy named Rover is the real powerhouse. He took down 3 Zombie Angels solo."

"Tsk! Nonsense. He just hid in his room and got lucky thanks to those defense towers. What’s so impressive about that?"

"Right! Damon’s the strongest, no contest."

"Look!"

The dust slowly settled, but what made everyone’s jaws drop in sheer horror was the figure lying on the ground.

It was Damon.

He was flat on the floor, his right hand utterly destroyed, reduced to a mangled mess of shredded flesh and shattered bone, the broken fragments piercing through skin and jutting out, blood pouring like a burst pipe.

His face was twisted in agony and rage, but above all else, fear.

He gritted his teeth, trying to drag himself backward, his eyes trembling as he stared at the man across from him.

Livia saw it all and was so stunned she couldn’t find a single word. Her most confident ability, layered on top of Damon’s own power... and yet, the man had used one punch.

Just one punch. No magic. No ability. No special power of any kind. Pure, basic physical force, and it had blown straight through Damon’s smoke form and shattered his hand.

What kind of monstrous concept was this?

Livia’s nerve broke. She took a step back, eyes wide with terror, fixed on the man.

"Is this really all you’ve got?" the man said with contempt, sweeping his gaze across the crowd as if he were looking at insects not worth his time.

"You think... Rank 6 is something you people can actually reach?" He let out a short, cold laugh. "How laughable. If there were a genuine Rank 6 Survivor here, I’d consider pulling back. But there’s no Rank 6 in this place, and even a Rank 5 Survivor, standing in front of me, is nothing but trash."

He was right. Rank 6 Survivors had not yet been added to the apartment complex, that wouldn’t happen until the day was over.

Which meant the Rank 6 Survivors before them were, by all accounts, the strongest residents this complex had to offer.

"Alright." The man’s brow furrowed as he spoke. "You have two choices. Hand over every item and every gold coin you own, or I kill you and take everything anyway."

"Don’t even think about hiding in your rooms. As long as my people are standing guard outside, you’ll never set foot out again. Besides, once the protection period ends, I’ll kick your doors in and slaughter every last one of you."

He raised a hand. The figures in gray armor reached behind their backs and drew blades, sleek razor-edged swords that shimmered like lasers, while the other hand gripped strange otherworldly firearms, bodies coiled and ready to engage at a moment’s notice.

"The choice is yours," he said. "But whether you live or die, that’s mine."

Silence fell over the crowd.

They looked at each other, then back at the man and his armored soldiers. At the laser-bright glow of the sword edges and those bizarre guns clenched in their hands.

Then one person snapped, shouting in rage: "Are you messing with us?! You think that—"

BANG!

The shot rang out before the words were finished. A beam of green light punched clean through his skull with the same ease as driving a blade through a birthday cake.

A marble-sized hole appeared in the center of his forehead, visible straight through to the other side.

Blood poured out. The man dropped to the ground. He died without ever knowing why, or how.

Everyone trembled.

The guns those armored soldiers carried were terrifying beyond words.

Everyone could see that the man who had just died was a Rank 4 Survivor, and yet against the power of those weapons, he’d had almost no ability to resist whatsoever.

Like a sheet of paper against a sharpened blade.

A collective breath was drawn in. Spines went cold. Eyes locked on the massive man and his armored squad. Cold sweat soaked through clothes.

"Ah." The man seemed to remember something, adding with blatant disdain: "You can run, but don’t let me catch you. If you do, what happens to you will be far worse than what just happened to him."

The crowd heard those words, and every body shuddered. Even the faint impulse to flee that had just flickered in their hearts was immediately snuffed out.

Damon clenched his jaw, drowning in regret. He regretted coming here. He regretted being the first one to step up and go toe-to-toe with this man.

"And you..." The man’s gaze settled on Damon, a cold smile on his lips. "Can you still stand? If you’ve got nothing left to fight with, then I’ll be happy to send you to hell personally."

"Damn it all!" Damon snarled. Staring death in the face, he knew, if he didn’t go all in, his fate would be even worse than death.

Then he might as well throw everything into one last shot. At minimum, if it worked, he might find a way to survive.

Damon swung his remaining arm up, his hand morphing into a pillar of smoke that launched straight at the man.

The dense smoke coiled around the man’s face, shifting from white to black, thickening by the second, like a dark cloud consuming his entire head.

Damon smiled coldly, a thought forming in his mind: ’Even if you’re a Rank 6 Survivor, you still need to breathe. This smoke carries particulate levels on par with asbestos. A normal person would rupture their lungs and die within seconds of inhaling it. How long can you hold out?’

Ten seconds...

Thirty seconds...

A full minute passed.

Nothing happened. The man stood completely still, not moving an inch.

Damon’s brow knitted. Something felt wrong. He muttered under his breath: "That’s strange... did he actually die?"

"Is that all?"

The man’s voice rang out, and Damon flinched hard, eyes blowing wide, filled with absolute disbelief.

"You... you’re still not dead?!"

"Hahahaha... this dust is cleaner than the air I used to breathe on the Dying Continent." The man spoke as he casually waved a hand. The black smoke wrapped around his head dispersed instantly.

His face was revealed, utterly calm, indifferent, as though what had just happened had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

"Impossible!" Damon muttered. "That smoke is as toxic as asbestos. How the hell can you breathe through it?"

The man replied with contempt: "Fool. You have any idea... I used to breathe in air heated to hundreds of degrees, laced with hundreds of different poisons, each one lethal enough to kill any one of you the moment you inhaled even a trace of it."

"Nonsense! How could anyone survive in a place like that?!" Damon screamed. "You’re lying! Your ability, you used your ability, didn’t you?!"

The man looked at Damon the way someone looks at an idiot, and sighed. "Talking to a fool like you is exhausting. Fine. The faster you die, the quieter this world gets."

"No! No!" Damon scrambled to pull back, but he was too slow. The man had already closed the gap, fist cocked and ready to come crashing down.

Despite the absurdly heavy armor covering his frame, the man’s speed was anything but slow. It was frightening, far beyond anything a normal human should be capable of.

Damon watched that fist bearing down on him. All he could do was grit his teeth, filled with bitter helpless rage, knowing he had no way to stop it.

And then suddenly...

BAM!

The impact thundered out. A pressure burst exploded outward, a violent shockwave rolling through the air like a gale-force wind.

But Damon felt none of the pain he’d braced himself for. He slowly opened his eyes.

Before him, a massive gauntlet, five times the size of a normal human hand, had intercepted the man’s punch.

The bizarre part was that the gauntlet seemed to have materialized out of thin air, hovering in place with no arm attached to it, no towering body behind it like he would’ve imagined.

The man’s brow furrowed. After a moment, he slowly withdrew his fist. The metal gauntlet pulled back as well, floating gently backward before drifting to rest beside a figure as beautiful as a porcelain doll.

Not one gauntlet, but two. Like the hands of a giant, they floated on either side of the girl’s shoulders.

Everyone’s eyes snapped toward them. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, as though their eyes were witnessing timeless priceless works of art for the very first time.

Four women stood there.

Each one was breathtakingly beautiful, flawless in a way that seemed almost impossible, and each carried a beauty entirely her own, as if they were paintings crafted by the most gifted artist who had ever lived.

The brown-haired woman radiated a captivating, mature elegance, like a gentle warm mother.

The white-haired woman was smaller, delicate, but something about her made anyone who looked at her want to pull her close and shield her, to protect that tiny angel.

The black-haired woman possessed curves that were boldly and dangerously alluring, the kind that could set a man’s desires ablaze without a single word.

The purple-haired woman was strange, and yet utterly magnetic. Most striking of all were the eyes across her forehead. They moved like they were alive. No, they were real. They had to be.

"What the hell?"

"Who... who are they?"

"They’re gorgeous. First time in my life I’ve seen women this beautiful."

"Four stunning women standing together, if I could just have one of them, I’d die smiling."

"Keep dreaming. They’ll never look your way."

"You’re all missing the point, that little one just blocked that man’s punch." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Exactly. That punch nearly killed Damon and blew straight through the defense Livia was so proud of, and she stopped it like it was nothing."

"Is that her ability? That’s... insane..."

The crowd buzzed with chatter, but the armored man paid them no mind. His gaze was fixed on Morie, eyes narrowed, voice edged with suspicion: "You... are you a member of the Titan Clan?"