Chapter 140: Already Dead

Chapter 139

From the moment Almighty stepped into the arena, he’d been hoping—no, praying—that Jay would follow Clara and Aiden’s example and forfeit. But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

Jay didn’t surrender. Instead, he took a fighting stance—the exact same stance he’d used against Blazer of the A6. That stance alone sent a chill down Almighty’s spine.

His brain short-circuited.

He’s serious... I’m done for.

"Fourth Jungle Art: Cheetah Stride," Jay whispered.

In an instant—blur. Crack. Bam.

Almighty didn’t see the strike coming. He didn’t remember being hit. One moment he was standing, the next—he was unconscious.

His body slumped to the ground with a dull thud.

The entire arena went deathly silent. Graveyard silent. If a pin had dropped, it would’ve sounded like an explosion in that eerie stillness.

"Okay... tell me I’m dreaming," whispered one guy to his dazed partner, neither able to process what had just happened.



Almighty. Their role model. The supposed golden boy. Defeated in a single move.

The announcer snapped out of the collective shock first, voice shaky but firm. "Well, folks, it’s clear Almighty must have undergone some... unknown, exhausting task prior to this battle. That would explain... this result."

It was nonsense, of course—but the crowd, desperate for an explanation, clung to it like gospel.

Jay was declared the winner of the semifinal.

Only two contestants remained: Han vs Jay.

The last one standing would be crowned champion of the Tournament of Power, earn the coveted Evol Shard, and receive the title of partial S-Class Hero.

The crowd finally erupted into thunderous applause as the final match display appeared on the screens above. The energy was back—but the memory of Almighty’s collapse still hung heavy in the air.

As the stadium began to clear out, Han and his group exited the arena. But his brows furrowed when he saw Clara running toward them, her expression twisted in alarm.

"Clara?" Han asked, instantly alert. "What’s wrong?"

"It’s Aiden," she said, breathless, her voice thick with dread. "I can’t find him... I think something’s happened."

---

Elsewhere, far from Maurina City...

Inside a massive, dimly lit facility, two figures burst through a reinforced door, slamming it open in their panic. One was a man in his late twenties with striking green hair and emerald eyes. The other, a young woman with flowing pink hair and matching green eyes.

They were beautiful—almost otherworldly. They could’ve passed for models, if not for the state they were in: drenched in blood, trembling with exhaustion and fear.

No one knew if the blood was theirs. All anyone could tell was that they were terrified.

They sprinted down endless corridors, breath ragged, adrenaline pushing their broken bodies forward. After several more desperate minutes, the man’s face suddenly went pale.

He felt it.

He was getting closer.

Had he really killed them already?

Pyrex. Slicer. Arta.

Together, those three were nearly unstoppable on the battlefield. When they fought side by side, cities crumbled. Yet... they only lasted minutes.

Now, that man was getting closer.

"Eren," Cole whispered, turning to the girl beside him. His face was pale, pain etched deep into every feature.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "No. No—don’t say it," she nearly shouted, her voice shaking.

"You have to run," Cole said, gripping her shoulders. "Run as fast as you can. Find Lord Buster. Only he can stop him now."

But Eren didn’t move. Not even an inch.

How could she?

Their city had already been destroyed long ago.

Now, their comrades were dead. Only she and her older brother remained. After all they had endured—the training, the blood, the torture to become part of Buster’s elite force—he was telling her to leave him behind?

To die?

"I’m not going," she whispered.

"You must!" Cole roared, pushing her away. "The faster you reach Lord Buster, the better my chances. If you stay, we both die—then there’s no one left. No hope left!"

Eren stared at him one last time, her heart twisting, then nodded. She turned and ran toward the exit, tears flying from her cheeks.

Cole exhaled, watching her disappear into the shadows.

Please live, he prayed. Please make it out.

He turned slowly—he was now the last Smasher standing.

But not for long.

Not with him here.

A shadow approached through the corridor, tall and cold. The man wore a thick, pitch-black coat that swayed lightly as he walked. His face was calm—disturbingly calm—as though the lives he had just taken meant nothing.

But what stood out most was his right eye: swirling with deep, dark purple energy, unnatural and cold. The eyepatch that once covered it was now flipped up to his forehead, revealing the ominous glow fully.

"You monster," Cole spat, his voice trembling with rage. "We did terrible things, yes—but we followed orders. We had no choice. It was the Lord’s command!"

The man shook his head slowly.

"I’m no monster," he said with eerie tranquility. "I’m just an assassin."

Then he stepped forward.

One step.

Then another.

Each footfall echoed like a drumbeat of death.

Cole’s heart pounded. He knew—deep down—he couldn’t win. The man before him was too powerful. But he had to hold him off. Just long enough for Eren to escape. Just long enough to reach Lord Buster.

He shut his eyes for a moment. Then, with a burst of energy, eight glowing arms erupted from his body—four from his back, four from his sides. Each arm wielded a weapon bathed in radiant essence: a sword, axe, mace, dagger, spear, whip, scythe, and hammer.

He opened his eyes, now glowing with resolve.



With a shout, he launched forward like a cannon, all eight weapons striking in perfect unison.

The assassin didn’t flinch.

He moved like a phantom—each attack missed him by mere inches, as if he were dancing through death itself. Graceful. Effortless. Inhuman.

Then—he vanished.

Cole’s eyes darted around, searching for the assassin—anything, a flicker of movement, a sound—but then—

Agonizing pain tore through his body.

It was as if thousands of needles pierced every inch of his flesh at once. His muscles locked. He couldn’t even twitch a finger. The pain was so overwhelming, so unnatural, it nearly made him black out on the spot.

Yet there was no blood. No wound.

Just pain.

How...?

Then, the man appeared. Just a step away. Calm. Composed. Unchanged. That swirling purple eye glowed with quiet cruelty as it bore into Cole’s soul.

Cole’s lips trembled. Desperation clawed its way into his voice.

"Y-You’re an assassin, right? I—I can pay you double. Triple! Whatever you’re being offered—I’ll match it! Just name it!"

The assassin said nothing.

Not a blink.

Not a flicker of interest.

Cole’s offers grew more desperate—bribes, secrets, even pleading. Still, no response.

Just silence.

Then, in a voice colder than ice, the assassin finally spoke.

"What I want... is your life."

His hand touched Cole’s chest.

"No—wai—"

Before Cole could finish, his chest exploded.

A burst of energy ruptured through his heart, tearing through armor, bone, and soul in an instant. Cole didn’t even fall—he simply ceased to exist.

Another Smasher.

Gone.

---

Meanwhile, far across the corridor, Eren dashed through the bloodstained halls, heart pounding with dread and hope clashing violently inside her.

Just a little further, she told herself. If I can reach Buster... maybe Cole will still be—

She stopped.

Frozen.

Her eyes widened in horror.

There, standing between her and the exit, was him.

The assassin.

He stood silently, just meters away, like a shadow of death made flesh.

Her heart sank.

His presence alone was the answer.

Cole... was dead.

"No..." she whispered. Her sorrow boiled into fury, and in an instant, a radiant spear formed in her hand, blazing with all her rage.

She charged.

Screamed.

Let everything out in that one final attack.

But before the spear even reached its target—

She was airborne.

One hand gripped her throat, lifting her effortlessly into the air. The other hand held her spear like it was a twig.

Eren choked, kicking, struggling.

The assassin’s glowing eye locked onto hers, and her world seemed to freeze.

Her fury crumbled into despair.

Then fear.

Real, soul-deep fear.

"P-Please..." she gasped, barely able to speak. "Let me go..."



The assassin studied her quietly for a few seconds, then answered with chilling finality:

"Your life ended the moment I was paid to take it. You’re already dead."

"No..."

The last word barely left her lips before he drove the spear straight through her chest.

Her body convulsed once... then went still.

He let her lifeless form drop to the ground like a discarded doll. Then, without a single glance back, he reached for his eyepatch, covered the swirling eye, and began to walk away.

His voice was low, quiet, absolute.

"Targets eliminated. Mission... complete."

---

To Be Continued...

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