MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 443: Cursed By Knowledge

Now, it was Colonel Vazeryth and Zhyravel who felt Anthony's words like a bomb detonating in their minds.

Both froze, stunned, for a brief moment.

"Lieutenant Anthony… What do you mean, you decline?"

Colonel Vazeryth's voice trembled, his usual composure unraveling.

"This is something even someone with your backing couldn't possibly acquire"

His calm demeanor had evaporated, replaced by disbelief.

The grin that had once graced Zhyravel's face had long since vanished.

This was the first time someone had ever turned down one of his offers.

But then, as if teetering on the edge of madness, the grin returned, wider, darker.

His voice dripped with a cold, unsettling excitement.

"The fact that you still decline... means you indeed have secrets. Far too many secrets. I can't wait to see what lies hidden within that body of yours"

And as he spoke, the madness began to seep into his words.

In an instant, Zhyravel's demeanor transformed.

The frail, almost fragile body that had seemed on the verge of collapse disappeared entirely, replaced by something else, something darker, something far more menacing.

His aura erupted.

If there was one word to describe it, it was DEVOURING.

It was as if his very presence sought to consume, to take, to swallow all in its path.

Yet beneath the ferocity, there was something ancient about it, a primal force, a force that had slumbered for ages.

The aura poured out, like a beast that had been caged for far too long, its hunger finally unleashed.

The aura slammed into Colonel Vazeryth, sending him crashing to the ground.

The seat he had been perched upon shattered into splinters beneath the immense pressure.

His chest was pressed to the floor, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth as he felt the weight of every bit of knowledge Zhyravel had accumulated crash upon his shoulders, a burden so overwhelming it threatened to break him.

Yet, through it all, Anthony stood unmoved.

The time particles around him shifted, detaching him from the moment itself.

Though still within the time plane, he existed outside the reach of the aura's influence, rendering it utterly ineffective against him.

"Interesting"

Zhyravel's voice cut through the air, but this time, it was no longer gentle, nor was it the calm, laid-back demeanor he had worn before.

No, now it sounded like the voice of a predator, hungry and relentless.

"I would have fun dissecting you piece by piece"

His purple eyes glowed with an intense, unsettling light.

Though the Veylanthar clan was notoriously known for their lack of raw combat power and talent, there was always an exception to every rule.

Zhyravel Veylanthar was that exception.

A man, some said, cursed.

Cursed by Knowledge.

A man who curiosity had on a leash.

Once he found something that piqued his interest, something he could not obtain, his madness would flow from him.

Zhyravel slowly rose from his seat, each step toward Anthony filled with an unnerving certainty.

"You can't kill him... You can't have him"

Colonel Vazeryth's strained voice rose from the ground, his body trembling with effort as he pushed himself up from the shattered floor.

Zhyravel's footsteps were calm, methodical as he responded, his voice cold and dripping with a chilling certainty.

"I'm pretty sure I can. After all, in the mana contract I signed, I am allowed to pursue my knowledge... even on some soldiers. As long as I don't cross a certain line"

He took another step, his purple eyes gleaming with madness.

"The Supreme Monarchs would, of course, overlook the death of a single human. If the death even reaches their ears in the first place"

Zhyravel continued to walk toward Anthony, his maddened grin never faltering, the very air thick with the danger he exuded.

Anthony didn't flinch.

He remained composed, his body relaxed, his heartbeat steady.

'Why does it feel like I keep jumping from one final boss-worthy side character to another? The Executioner, now a mad scientist'

Anthony mused inwardly, his gaze unwavering as he observed the unfolding scene.

"He is backed by the three Null Supreme Monarchs. He is their descendant, Null Anthony"

Colonel Vazeryth's strained voice came again, blood dripping steadily onto the white floor.

At those words, Zhyravel froze mid-motion.

'Those three mad people'

A fleeting thought passed through his mind, and his gaze, those piercing purple eyes, remained fixed on Anthony for several tense seconds.

Then, with an almost imperceptible shift, the intensity in his eyes vanished, replaced by a pair of black eyes.

The overwhelming aura that had once threatened to devour everything around them instantly dissipated, like a storm that had never existed.

And with it, Zhyravel's entire demeanor changed.

The wild madness that had consumed him evaporated, leaving behind the frail, almost delicate-looking figure who had first entered the room, a man who seemed on the verge of collapse once more.

"What a shame"

Zhyravel muttered with a long sigh, his voice tinged with a hint of regret as he turned and returned to his seat, the madness in his eyes now fully quelled.

Colonel Vazeryth shakily rose from the ground, his body battered but not broken.

He reached into his ring, pulling out a healing potion and drinking it in one swift motion.

The moment the liquid touched his lips, his wounds began to mend, the blood staining the floor slowly ceasing to flow.

"I almost died, you know"

He grumbled, his voice hoarse as he fixed a glare at Zhyravel.

Zhyravel merely shrugged, a bemused smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"Come on, I was holding back my aura so you wouldn't die. Besides, you're at the Exarch Rank. Don't be such a baby"

'Does this guy have a split personality or something like that?'

Anthony thought silently, watching the back-and-forth between the two men with an increasingly bewildered sense of amusement.

Colonel Vazeryth, eager to shift the focus, quickly asked.

"Can we have the details about the Severed Crown of Echoes now?"

His voice was tinged with frustration, but also a desire to move past the awkwardness.

After all, he had just lost face in front of Anthony.

Zhyravel, however, didn't even look up from his seat.

His voice, dismissive and cool, cut through the tension like a blade.

"You can't. I'm not in the right mood. You can ask someone else for it"

Colonel Vazeryth's face instantly shifted, a mix of frustration and resignation crossing his features.

He knew better than to force Zhyravel into anything.

Those from the Logistics Department were untouchable.

Even if he could, he was simply outclassed by Zhyravel in terms of sheer battle prowess.

Just as the atmosphere thickened with an uncomfortable silence, a familiar voice broke through.

"How about I propose a deal this time?"

It was Anthony's voice, calm and calculating, cutting through the tension with unexpected ease.