Descendant of Sloth
Chapter 89: Ham!

Chapter 89: Ham!

"Hmm?" I tilted my head, glancing up at the railing on the floor above.

The auditorium was a storm of shadows and screams, but up on the railing, the big guy stood out like a beacon. "Finally some fun..." he said, his his voice low and rough, dripping with excitement.

His yellow eyes glowed bright in the dark, cutting through the blackness like twin flames, and his aura flared around him—a crackling red haze that made the air feel heavy.

He stared right at me, locked on, and I couldn’t help but mutter to myself, amused.

"Ohhh... so you can see me."

He didn’t unfold his arms, just kept them crossed tight across his chest. Then his boots lifted off the ground, slow and steady, like gravity didn’t matter to him.

He floated down from the railing, drifting toward the floor below with that wild grin still plastered on his face. *He can fly too,* I thought, watching him descend, his aura humming louder the closer he got.

Up above, the two knights with guns stayed put, their barrels still trained on me.

"Boss will take him down for sure," one said, his voice steady despite the sweat beading on his forehead. He gripped his gun tighter, the metal glinting faintly in the dark.

"Yeah," the other chimed in, smirking even though his shirt was damp with nerves. "Now he’ll see what kind of mess he’s stepped into." They nodded at each other, confident, like they’d already won.

A weird buzz filled the air—*zum*—and the big guy snapped his arms open. Energy rippled around him, and two massive swords appeared in his hands, summoned out of nowhere.

They were huge, like oversized choppers, the blades wide and jagged, glowing faintly with that same yellow aura.

My dagger looked tiny compared to them, its blood-streaked blade small enough to fit in my palm, but I didn’t care. Size didn’t mean much to me.

He landed soft on the floor, a few feet away, his boots thudding against the concrete. The crowd around us was still freaking out, shoving at the useless elevator doors, but he ignored them, his glowing eyes fixed on me.

"You were with those girls, right?" he said, his smirk growing as he tilted his head. "The final auction—where that one chick bid thirty million for that cute little slave."

"Yeah, so?" I replied, my voice flat, giving him nothing. I didn’t move, just stood there with my dagger loose in my hand.

He shrugged, opening his arms wide like it was all a big joke, the chopper swords glinting in the faint light.

"If you didn’t like the slave, you could’ve just filed for a refund. Why make this whole mess?" His grin stretched wider, like he was daring me to explain myself.

I let out a slow sigh, straightening up a little. "People like you wouldn’t understand," I said, keeping my tone even, my eyes locked on his.

"Yeah, I don’t," he shot back, crossing his swords in front of him with a scrape of metal. His grin turned menacing, all teeth and sharp edges, his yellow eyes flashing.

"I only care about the money that flows—doesn’t matter where it comes from." He leaned forward slightly, the aura around him buzzing louder, like he was itching to swing those blades and see what I’d do about it.

The air between us crackled, heavy and tense, while the chaos of the auditorium faded into the background.

The auditorium was a mess of shadows and tension, the air thick with the smell of blood and fear.

I stood in the center, twirling my dagger slowly in my hand, the blood-streaked blade catching the faint glow of phone lights. I took a step back, shifting my weight, settling into a loose stance—calm, steady, ready.

My eyes stayed on the big guy in front of me, his yellow gaze burning through the dark.

"Greedy fucker, aren’t you?" I said, my voice low and even, cutting through the quiet.

He grinned wider, his chopper swords glinting as he shrugged. "I am. No problem with that." His aura crackled around him, red and wild, matching the hype in his voice.

He was practically bouncing on his toes, itching for a fight, while I just stood there, calm and a little slothful, like I’d rather be anywhere else. The contrast hung heavy between us, a storm waiting to break.

For a moment, everything went still. The crowd’s screams faded to a nervous murmur, their phone lights trembling as they watched us—me, the intruder, and him, their big, glowing knight.

They’d been panicking before, but now they were hooked, waiting to see what happened next.

"Kill the intruder!" someone shouted from the back, their voice sharp with anger. "Yeah, make sure there’s not an atom of him left for this mess!" another yelled. "Kill him!!" a third chimed in, the words bouncing off the walls.

He tilted his head, smirking at me. "Seems like you’ve got no fans here," he said, his tone mocking, like he was enjoying the hate aimed my way.

I didn’t flinch. "Don’t need garbage as my fans," I replied, flat and cold, twirling the dagger once more before gripping it tight.

He laughed, a rough "hehe" that grated on the air. "Let’s see about that." He shifted his stance, those massive swords humming with energy. "What’s your name, kid?"

"Esther," I said, keeping it short, my voice deadpan.

"Mine’s Ham," he shot back, grinning like it was a game.

"Didn’t ask, don’t care," I said, my tone flat as ever.

Then—*clang*—I moved. Fast.

A flash of motion, a burst of strength, and my dagger slammed into one of his chopper swords with a sound like a thunderclap.

*Boom*—the force hit hard, sparks flying where metal met metal. He reacted quick, lifting his blades to block, but my push was stronger than he expected.

His boots skidded back across the concrete, his grin stayed strong, plastered on his wicked face as we slid together, the crowd gasping behind us.