Unholy Player-Chapter 194: The true meaning of power

Adyr continued to release his bloodlust, an invisible, suffocating force pressing against Kharom, deliberately provoking him.

Though controlled and far from fully unleashing his Presence, the effect was still strong. Yet Kharom’s affinity for the Nether Path and his high [Resilience] dampened the impact, preventing the aura from overwhelming him completely.

"Do you want to die?" Kharom finally snapped under the pressure, grinding his teeth as he challenged Adyr.

"Do you have what it takes?" Adyr chuckled and raised his bloodlust just a little more. It was obvious now he intended to push Kharom’s buttons.

Suddenly, the candles on the table flickered and went out, while the torches on the walls blazed wildly. The maids, already pale, pressed themselves against the walls, struggling to stay upright.

Vesha and Orven found themselves caught in the eye of the storm, their bodies frozen rigid, each cautious breath carefully measured to avoid drawing attention.

For Vesha, it was the first time she had truly sensed Adyr’s bloodlust. The eerie, dangerous aura radiating from an Astra Path practitioner was unusual. Yet despite the shock, her loving gaze toward him remained unchanged, even as cold sweat trickled down her spine.

Adyr’s fierce protectiveness ignited a warmth inside her, thawing the ice that had settled deep beneath her skin.

But she did not grasp his true intent. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Yes, Adyr was irritated by Kharom’s arrogance and his audacity to come demanding something in his territory, but that irritation never crossed into genuine anger.

Kharom was not a worthy opponent in Adyr’s eyes. Only Sevrak, standing behind him, qualified as a true rival.

More importantly, such emotions were unnecessary to Adyr. Anger was a cloud that dulled the mind, and he would never let his thoughts be clouded or his judgment compromised.

If anything, he was incapable of feeling such emotions fully.

So there was another reason he was provoking him—a purpose beyond mere irritation.

"You damn rat."

Kharom finally snapped, losing his last shred of patience. He slammed his hands onto the table, and the decay began instantly.

Starting from where his palms pressed, the wood rotted rapidly, splitting and cracking as it turned to dust beneath him. Plates cracked and crumbled, their once glossy surfaces pocked with dark mold. Food spoiled in an instant, festering into foul rot. Vases shattered as flowers withered, their petals blackening and shriveling, as if life itself was being sucked away.

Even the table’s core groaned under the assault, the wood rotting so swiftly it hissed and snapped like brittle bone.

The rot stretched outward, moving like a dark, creeping disease that relentlessly pressed closer to Adyr, its foul aura choking the air around it.

But he remained motionless, silently watching the creeping disaster inch closer to him.

Vesha and Orven were frozen too, but for a different reason—they lacked the strength or will to move under the overwhelming pressure of two practitioners’ presence.

Just as the rot crept within mere inches of reaching Adyr and the others, a deep, booming sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap, shaking the very air.

"You dare."

The ceiling above them suddenly exploded with a deafening crash. Concrete and debris rained down as a massive hand tore through the opening, descending with terrifying force.

Before Kharom could even register what was happening, the enormous hand closed around him, lifting him off the ground in a crushing grip.

"What—"

His voice cracked with panic as a metallic sheen began to spread across his ghostly white skin, quickly forming a hardened layer—his defensive skill activating in desperation.

Crack!

The metallic shell shattered in less than a second under the sheer pressure of the giant’s grip, splintering into fragments and scattering through the air.

Kharom screamed in pain, his mind scrambling to understand what had just struck him.

Then the voice came again.

"You come into my Kingdom and try to attack one of us?"

Through the broken ceiling and the settling cloud of dust, a figure began to take shape. The massive arm that held Kharom led back to a body far too small for such a limb—a dwarf-sized silhouette floating in the night sky, unnaturally connected to the colossal hand.

Rank 4 Practitioner Liora Virell stood atop a cluster of white clouds, her body impossibly small compared to the colossal arm she wielded. In the darkness, her eyes burned with contained fury.

With her wrathful expression locked on Umbraen in her grip, she hissed from above, her voice cutting through the night like a blade.

"Tell me one thing. Why shouldn’t I crush you into pulp?"

While Kharom struggled to move under the crushing pain, feeling every bone in his body bend and crack under the immense pressure, Adyr watched from his seat with quiet interest.

This was exactly the outcome he had intended when he provoked Kharom, and he was more than satisfied with how things turned out.

He was fairly certain that even if Liora herself wasn’t present, one of the other Rank 3 practitioners—Lucen or Mirela—would be nearby, keeping watch just in case. After all, at this point, Adyr was far too valuable to be left unguarded, not only to the Kingdom but to the entire Velari race.

Adyr had two personal reasons for orchestrating this entire scene.

The first was simple: he wanted to see how strong Kharom really was—or more precisely, how durable his body was as a Nether Path Practitioner.

As he observed, Adyr could feel just how powerful Liora’s grip was. If it had been him caught in that hand, he was sure his body would’ve been crushed in an instant. Yet Kharom was enduring it.

Even though Liora clearly wasn’t using her full strength, the fact that Kharom was still conscious and resisting said a lot.

That skill, the way he turned his skin metallic, looks troublesome. By PTF standards, his endurance should be around 800 to 900. Noted, Adyr thought, storing everything he saw in his mental palace to later devise a strategy against him. When the time came to face Kharom directly, this information would be useful.

That number was no joke. For comparison, even someone like Cannibal, whose overall power combined strength, speed, and endurance, had a total around 700. Yet Kharom’s durability alone had already exceeded that.

With that, Adyr’s first objective—evaluating Kharom’s strength—was complete. He now had a general picture of his capabilities.

The second reason was more strategic: he wanted to deepen the conflict between the Velari practitioners and the Umbraen. The benefits of this move would reveal themselves later.

While Adyr silently took notes with quiet satisfaction, Kharom opened his mouth and spoke through gritted teeth, filled with pain. "What is the meaning of this? Don’t you know who my grandfather is?"

Oh, now he’s playing the grandfather card, Adyr thought amusedly to himself.

Liora snapped angrily, tightening her grip as screams echoed around them.

"You stupid kid, attacking my people and threatening me with your grandfather? Do you think we Velari are that easy to bully?"

She looked as if she had reached the end of her patience. Though her desire to kill Kharom was clear, it was obvious she was holding herself back.

Even if Sevrak himself wasn’t here, his power and merciless reputation seemed enough to protect his grandson.