Chapter 29

(A/N: please do bring any typos or grammatical errors to my attention, either by chapter or paragraph comments so I can immediately fix and attend to it. As I am only human too, there's only so much I can do without making mistakes. Thank you, and enjoy!)

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The space would shiver with each beat, an intoxicating pressure pressing down on his whole being, forcing his consciousness to falter for a quick second.

The pressure, it came like a sudden tidal wave, flooding into his mind like a great surge, churning his insides!

It was intense, his knees threatened to fail under the full weight and crushing intensity.

"Wh-what the?" Scarface expression turned into a tight grimace. He could feel it, the surrounding air vibrate and shiver. The surface of his skin tingled, every single hair on his body stood on end. 

Unable to withstand the mental weight of it all, his knee gave out and fell to the ground with his head lowered.

Scarface bit down on his lower lip to chase away... no... to restrain the primordial instinct of fear, the instinct that barked at him to run! 

The one that told him to bow.

He forced a gulp, pushing down the rising contents of his stomach, leaving him with the wicked after taste as if a rat had crawled into his mouth and died there.

But the taste wasn't of priority to him now.

Scare face made a mental curse. A dire one. And while he ransacked his mind, he felt the pressure shift slightly in resonance to a suggestive voice.

"You haven't answered my question," the voice said. Scar fa e shivered.

'That brat!' Scarface swallowed down bile and redirected his grimaced gaze at the caved in part of the wall in front. The pile of rubbles shifted, lifting up a small cloud of dust.

'What the hell is he?' 

Reo, bleeding and bruised stood up and walked out of the rubbles. He cradled his right side with his left arm and spat out a mouth full of blood before wiping the corners of his lips.

He took in wheezing breaths, blood flowing down the left side of his face, over his eye, and dripped off his chin against the ground.

For the first time since coming to this world, Reo had been injured. And it hurt as much as the memory of having a broken rib back on earth once did.

Reo wasn't indistructable, neither was he unable to bleed. He was only built a lot more sturdier than someone his age gap should have been. If the right circumstances were met, with the right amount of force, just like anyone else, even he could suffer an amount of broken bones, bruises, cuts and concussions.

This coupled with his matured mind and mental fortitude he had brought over from earth, made him nearly immune to just a little pain. Thanks to his constitution and many other variables, Reo felt pain without realizing he did.

This also applied to his seemingly almost endless stamina and strength.

In easier terms, as a five year old, Reo had a body density and constitution on almost equal par with with a young adult at the age of 17 to 19.

But now he was sure, the piercing, crushing pain coming from his side, he could definitely feel it a lot more than he would have wanted to.

At the same time, somewhere inside of him, Reo was glad he could bleed and feel pain after all.

Watching the unsteady and battered figure of the little boy, Scarface regained some level of recognition. Along with it came self- irritation and rage.

He let himself be intimidated by a dying brat.

'This brat,' he was even forced on one knee.

'This brat!' 

What the hell was it, that earlier pressure and Intoxicating presence — the domineering bellowing voice —and the look he had in his eyes? What the hell was it? What the hell was all of it?

Ah, yes, the look in his eyes.

 Scarface remembered it very well, it was only a few minutes ago after all. It was when he saw those eyes that it all began. It was the moment he was filled with cold apprehension.

"This brat!" Scarface bit down on his lower lips hard enough to draw blood. Veins bulged from all over his bald head and broad face. Deep crevices between his eyes formed and wiggled.

'Fear? By a kid? ME?!' he held the wooden club in his hand with a crushing grip.

'i was even brought down on one knee...' using the club as support, Scarface got on his feet and straightened his back. The air he excluded coupled by this made him seem four times his massive self.

'And now I'm letting a brat get to me,' he cursed at himself internally. He had already been humiliated beyond measure by this one little brat just today. As much as he hated to admit it, he had momentarily felt afraid and intimidated by this kid. He was even forced against his knees and cowered at merely his voice. And now he got uselessly angry over him.

How humiliating.

He stood for a minute and glanced forward at the beat up body of Reo a few steps opposite him. Reo's body was slouched forward as blood continued to drip off his face. His pumping back betrayed he was alive. Other than that, he just stood there. Completely still.

Scare face wanted to see his face. Those eyes, he wanted to see them again.

"Hey," he tightened his grip against the club handle and took his first step forward towards approaching Reo.

His anger can only be justified if he focused it at a point and erased the source of his humiliation without leaving a single trace.

He recalled the words of his brother.

—" Don't go overboard... what'll we say to the boss if there are already two of them with one foot in the grave?"

At that, Scarface only had one thought:

'To hell with that,' if he killed Reo, they could just make do with the rest they already had. As for the boss, he'd just tell him the brat put up a surprisingly relentless fight and he had no other choice.

"What was it you said," Scarface closed the distance between himself and the brat, his being towering over the Petit build of the kid, excluding murderous intent and pressure.

Looking down at Reo with a cold glare, he continued.

"You asked something. Say it again, I want to hear it." Saying this, he raised the wooden club in his hand over his head, ready to send it crashing down like a gammer at any minute.

Seeing no reply came, his suppressed anger boiled more furiously. The veins popped and wiggled like worms on his head. The crevices between his eyes grown more deeper. And his expression becoming more contorted.

One more time, he uttered, the words leaving his lips this time were forced through gnashed teeth.

"What did you say?!"

"..."

...no reply came.

And Scarface swung down with all the power in his arm, a single grunt leaving his lips in the process. The wooden club traveled, cut through the air and space, and descended against it's target like a hammer with brutal intensity.

At the same time, Scarface heard the sound of snapping chains as his club was stopped in mid air, his swing forced halfway through.

Boom!

The power from the abrupt stop dispersed a powerful shockwave, forcing a second wave of tremor through the cavern wall.

"Kugh-" Scarface struggle to press the club down and against the sudden resistance.

"Wh-what the?!" 

Reo, still standing in the same spot he had been hadn't moved once from it, with only his legs forced to dig a little into the hard ground from the power.

"...You haven't answered my question." The air shifted, the pressure in oppressive resonance with the voice one more time. 

It was the same suggestive, flat and monotonous tone. The weight of which pressed down like boulders and mountains against the big bald man.

"What the hell?! What the hell is this?!" Scarface found himself swallowing a gulp. He bit down on his bloody lips in an attempt to shake of the apprehension and nauseousness assaulting his mind and body from the pressing pressure while still struggling to pressing his club down.

Reo's head hung downward remained still, unbothered to even either move or raise it. In his raised left arm, Reo caught the wooden club in a bear like grip. His fingers gripping the club tightly enough, the wood strained and creaked.

His lips parted once more.

"I'll ask you again..." Reo slowly rose his head and craning his neck, he looked the bald man straight into his eyes.

Scarface found himself shuddering at the glare. 

His eyes were dark, cold and listless. Almost unintelligent. It was like that of a lost beast. They were glassy, dwelling with shadows and murky with out a single trace of thought or light.

Reo's glassy, dull black eyes, the depths of it shone with a crimson crescent cutting an arc within.

There was no mistake. Those were the eyes Scare face saw. Dull, listless, black and glassy with red crescent glows forming an arc at the very depths.

"What did you do to Don?"

The bald man forced a shivering smile with his lips.

"You-you're about to just find-" 

Reo didn't bother to listen. He crushed the wooden club in his left hands into splinters with a single squeeze. The joints on his right fingers popped and cracked. 

Unconsciously, he drew manna, focusing a little amount of concentrated wind in his other palm.

The wincing sound of flesh slapping painfully against flesh resounded heavily like a popping balloon. Reo's palm caused rippls as it connected with the right side of the bald man's face.

The magically conjured wind, exploding on impact, dispersed a concentrated shockwave and reverberated like a clap of thunder through the cavern.

Boom!

The walls shook, the ground split open, the ceilings crumbled, Scarface head crashed into the ground as his body fell before Reo's feet.

The sound of it all still echoed through the wall, the space yet to settle. Small chunks of debris fell to the ground from the pointy ceiling.

 Reo looked at his stinging palm then at the slumped body of Scarface with a tired and unbothered attention, his dull glassy eyes remained stoic.