Irritation flashed across Vance’s face before he dashed forward with everything he got.

The first punch came faster than anything he had thrown before.

However, Francis’s vibration sense gave him a rough read of where it would land. It wasn’t as precise as trajectory reading, but it still did its job.

The fist passed his ear close enough that he felt the air displacement against his skin.

Vance threw again, a tight cross.

Francis ducked under it, and moved to the outside.

"You’re not hitting back," Vance spat out.

"Not yet."

The answer seemed to annoy him more than aggression would have.

He rushed in again, throwing combinations now—three, four strikes in quick succession, each one carrying enough force to end the fight instantly if it landed clean.

Francis moved through all of them. Soon his eyes adjusted to the speed. His trajectory reading started working again.

It painted every path the moment his opponent committed.

The ghost-lines appeared and vanished in fractions of a second. Francis followed them like a map, slipping each strike by the smallest margin needed.

"Stop dodging and fight me head on! " Vance roared in frustration.

Francis didn’t say anything. He was intentionally prolonging the fight, just as the Federation agents did to Lex.

He was allowing him to reach for greater power.

Vance kept attacking, hoping one of his strikes would land, but Francis kept evading them with ease, his cognitive ability reading every path.

’Now.’

Francis stepped around a wide hook, letting the wind of the strike brush past his collar.

Vance noticed the angle too late. He saw the attack coming and thought he could take it.

But then the crimson aura gathering on Francis’s fist intensified until it looked like superheated metal.

Sensing danger, Vance quickly decided to jump back, but the moment he was about to, Francis stepped on his foot, locking him in place for a split second.

In a high-speed battle, that fraction of time was more than enough to tip the scale.

"I know you were going to do that," Francis swung his arm. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The punch connected, and the only thing Vance heard was a pulsing sound followed by a cold sensation spreading through his body.

He looked down and saw the gaping hole in his chest, wide enough to fit a basketball.

His legs made the decision for him.

One knee hit the ground. Then the other.

He stayed there, both knees on the broken concrete, one hand pressed flat against the floor to keep himself upright.

He was still conscious. He could still think. Every part of his mind was working.

But his body had already given its answer.

The fight was over.

Francis lowered his fist and stood over him without urgency. "That was a good fight."

Vance shook his head. "You don’t have to lie. I...I know you were holding back. I never had a chance from the very beginning."

He didn’t beg. Didn’t bargain. Didn’t try to say anything that would change what was already decided. He just knelt there, and waited for it to finish.

There was a kind of dignity in that.

The crystallization didn’t stop when his breathing did.

It finished its work, spreading across his jaw, over the crown of his head, and down his torso, until he became a statue made of darkened metal.

His current form made his choices feel like a wasted path.

He made an effort not to overuse his abilities in his younger days, all so he could stretch his life as long as possible.

In the end, he still met the very outcome he spent years trying to avoid.

’Time to get my reward.’

Francis raised his hand, but just as he was about to strike, his instincts screamed danger.

He jumped back, and a split second later, white lightning tore down from the sky, followed by a thunder crack that shook the air.

The ground beneath the impact point exploded outward like broken glass, and the air itself smelled scorched.

He stood there, waiting for the dust to thin.

It did, slowly. And then he saw a figure.

She stood at the center of the crater like she had always been there, like the world simply chosen that spot for her.

A black scythe rested in her grip — casual, effortless, the way a painter holds a brush.

White sparks moved across her pale skin in slow, crawling arcs, making her presence more domineering.

When she turned to face Francis, her white hair swayed. Her blue eyes were extremely beautiful, yet they made his skin crawl.

"Who are you?" he asked, still keeping his guard up.

She parted her small lips slightly.

"I’m a Dark Chain executive. I came here to take him back to HQ, but it seems I was too late."

Her voice carried no anger or annoyance at all, which made Francis more wary. People who could control their emotions to this level were the most dangerous type.

’I need to be careful. I don’t have much energy to spend,’

[Energy : 11/70]

Winning wasn’t out of the question, but it would depend on how fast he could take her out.

"Let’s stop this here. I don’t really have a reason to fight you," she said, lowering her scythe slight.

"Aren’t you from Dark Chain? That means I’m your enemy."

She nodded. "That might be true, but I was only given a rescue mission. Now that he’s dead, I have no reason to fight you."

Francis paused, weighing the situation. Her words made sense, and she didn’t seem to be lying.

But the chance in front of him was rare. A strong opponent like her did not show up often.

Besides, he still needed to extract Vance’s liver along with the other special categories. If he left now, everything he had done would go to waste.

His eyes landed on her scythe. It looked well made, built from the same dark materials used in high-ranking weapons.

’If only I got my spear with me...’