Chapter 7

Wade made the first move. He roared, swinging the hatchet toward Silas as if sheer aggressiveness alone could wrest back the upper hand. That vein-popping face hardened for a brief moment, but quickly relaxed into an awkward stiffness upon encountering the detached expression, devoid of any fear or panic, from his opponent.

Silas stepped to the side. It was so fast that the hatchet blade merely sliced through thin air. Leaping high with a frame built like a panther, his raincoat flapped vigorously in the midair draft as if caught in a gust of wind.

Before Wade could even turn around, Silas closed the distance. A short strike, yet packed with the weight of a thousand pounds, slammed with precision right into his left ribcage, sending him staggering back. A few faint crunching sounds resembling breaking bones echoed through the pitter-patter of the rain.

- Urgh!!! You bastard...

Wade grimaced in agony, wheezing for breath. Red blood bubbled from his mouth, running down his neck as he attempted to counterattack with a fist that had lost all its force.

This time, Silas intercepted his wrist, redirecting the momentum of his arm to the side before twisting it hard. Another loud snap echoed, accompanied by a guttural scream bursting from the Black Pines forest manager. The hatchet dropped onto the wet pine needles. Wade stared at it, coming to the shocking realization that his right arm, which had just held the hatchet, was broken, dangling limply by his hip.

It took only a split second, but that was more than enough. Through sheer physical strength and superior martial proficiency, Silas knocked the devil down to the ground.

Sitting a few meters away, Mara almost forgot to breathe. The entire scene she had just witnessed looked nothing like a struggle between two evenly matched opponents.

Wade fought out of panic, throwing everything he had like a cornered beast. Silas was the exact opposite. Not a single wasted movement, no anger, no haste, he simply knew what needed to be done next.