Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 114: Change of Mission

Chapter 114: Change of Mission

For a moment, the world was silent.

The monstrous hurricane of wind that Target Locker had summoned slowly began to dissipate, the howling gales weakening into a ghostly whistle, then into nothing.

Dust and shattered debris floated in the aftermath, and through the fog of destruction, the white humanoid tiger’s golden eyes searched desperately.

And then — he saw it.

There was nothing.

No silhouette.

No boy.

No swords.

No trace of the damn brat with his flying swords.

Immediately, a cruel, victorious grin slowly split the white tiger’s bloodied face.

He bared his sharp fangs in savage delight and threw his head back, laughing hoarsely, his muscular chest heaving with exhilaration.

"HAHAHAHA! Finally! Finally, that damn brat... GONE!" he roared, slamming his clawed fist into the cracked ground with a thunderous BOOM.

He stomped around the ruined arena, shards of concrete crunching under his feet.

"I thought I couldn’t break him," he barked between laughter. "That cursed sword of his! That impossible defense from those flying swords! But in the end... no one can resist when I get serious and give everything I got!"

Still chuckling, he wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He muttered to himself, almost congratulatory,

"Damn kid made me go all out. Took longer than it should have. Tough little bastard. Respect. Respect. I never met someone like you but I’ll make sure to remember your name, check on you and visit your grave."

For a few moments, he allowed himself to breathe, his body trembling from the intense energy he had released.

His ears flicked, tail swished from side to side restlessly.

He began to relax.

But then—

TCHIK!

A sharp, precise pain stabbed into his right foot. Like something entered beneath the flesh like a giant needle.

The white tiger’s grin froze.

Slowly, his head jerked downward.

There, impaling the top of his foot clean through, was a glimmering, bloodstained flying sword.

It hummed faintly, vibrating as if savoring the taste of his blood.

His eyes widened in shock.

TCHIK!

Another sword drove mercilessly through his other foot, pinning him in place like a grotesque crucifix.

"GGRRAAAHH!!" he roared in agony, muscles seizing up as he tried to move, but he couldn’t.

"What’s going on?" However, seeing the sword he froze again.

The realization hit him like a hammer.

Oh shit!

Still alive!

Before he could even think to rip the swords out, TCHAK! a third sword plunged into the side of his back, right under his shoulder blade, skewering muscle and tendons.

His breath hitched in his throat.

And then, with slow, deliberate malice, one final sword speared directly into the base of his spine.

CRRRK!

"Uuuurrghhhh"

The white tiger gasped, his knees buckling, feeling the strength in his legs start to vanish, like a puppet with its strings cut.

He slumped forward, trembling.

And then —

a voice.

Soft, cold, and dangerously close.

"You’re awfully adamant on killing me, aren’t you?"

Elius’s voice whispered right behind his ear.

The tiger’s fur bristled in terror.

He twisted his head weakly, only to see Elius standing behind him, his black clothes tattered but intact, not a single visible wound on his body.

Those black eyes, cold as the void, stared into his very soul.

"How...?" the tiger croaked out, "how are you still alive?" He asked again, with his voice thick with disbelief and pain.

Elius didn’t answer immediately.

He just slowly tilted his head to the side, studying the giant being before him like a scientist studying an insect.

"Well?"

Elius repeated calmly, his voice cutting through the suffocating tension like a blade.

"Why so desperate to kill me? Do we have a personal vendetta against each other? Why?"

The tiger gritted his sharp teeth together, growling low in his throat.

"I—... I don’t have to tell you anything," he snarled, trying to muster some defiance even as blood pooled beneath his feet.

But Elius merely smiled, that same unsettling, patient smile.

The smile of someone who had complete control of the situation.

"You sure about that?" Elius said as he lightly tapped the sword embedded in the tiger’s spine.

The tiger stiffened, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

Minutes passed.

Sweat poured down the white tiger’s brow, mingling with the blood soaking his fur.

His breathing grew heavier.

Weaker.

"Aaaarrgh!!"

Finally, with a broken growl, he muttered:

"...It-it-it was... was.. my mission."

Elius’s eyes narrowed.

"Mission?"

he echoed.

The tiger nodded, his pride crumbling under the crushing realization that he had no way out.

"If I kill you..." He said between shallow breaths, "I can pass... and enter the E-Rank Superhero Division easily without breaking a sweat."

He spat blood onto the ground, trembling with rage and shame.

Elius stared at him for a long moment, his mind turning.

So that was it.

Some twisted "initiation."

Throw him into battle with a student and demand blood as the price for entry.

Elius exhaled slowly, a dark shadow passing over his face.

"Take this as a gift,"

he said quietly.

With a wave of his hand, the flying swords embedded into the tiger’s body twisted slightly, causing him to howl in pain,

then ripped themselves free, spinning lazily back toward Elius and forming a rotating shield around him once again.

The tiger collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping in agony, helpless.

"You’re lucky,"

Elius said, staring down at him with contempt,

"You’re completely helpless now."

He looked away for a moment, his mind flashing with an image—

A towering man of light, radiating unbearable power.

Radiant Man.

His father.

Elius’s fists clenched tightly.

"All of them," he thought. "Peak-level Superheroes. They’re throwing them at me... one after another."

"All because of him."

He swallowed down the boiling fury in his chest.

For now, he would let it go.

Slowly, he turned back to the white tiger, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper:

"Do you want to die?"

he asked, eyes as cold as death.

"They never explicitly said I couldn’t kill my opponents,"

he continued, taking a step closer,

"And honestly? I’m pissed off enough to do it. You made me fight for my life. If it wasn’t for these swords, I would’ve been a corpse right now."

His flying swords whirled faster around him, sharp and eager for blood.

"So tell me,"

Elius said again, his voice like a blade against the tiger’s ears,

"Do you want to die?"

The white tiger shivered violently.

He could feel it.

This wasn’t a bluff.

The boy wasn’t posturing.

He meant every word.

"I..." the tiger choked out.

"P-please!" he suddenly shouted, pressing his bloodied hands together in a desperate plea.

"Please, don’t kill me!!"

he begged, his voice raw with fear,

"I was just following orders!! I didn’t have a choice! Please!!"

He bowed his head so low that it scraped against the broken stones of the arena, blood dripping from his mouth.

Elius watched him for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable, the spinning swords humming in the heavy silence like vultures circling over a dying beast.

The boy said nothing.

And the white tiger kept begging, his voice echoing pitifully through the empty battlefield.