CH262 Olop’s Perspective

As Olop woke the day after the competition he’d gotten confirmation that the annoyance he’d had to deal with had been properly taken care of the usual way, and he couldn’t help but celebrate with an early drink.

Really, what’s his name should have just agreed to it. Or at least had the tact to be well-mannered in his rejection. The humiliation, honestly. But then if he won’t work for me this is better anyway, it’s ridiculous how hard it is to get someone with an awakened crafting-type skill. Don’t any of those idiots know what an honour it would be to put their talents to use for the most important city in the world?

A part of the man couldn’t help but feel extra vindictive about it too. He’d been rejected by Falk often enough that he couldn’t help but take some of it out on the boy as he dealt with him. Perhaps it would have been preferable to simply ruin the boy’s career, but that was all but impossible with an awakened skill holder. No, it was better for him to be dead, else Olop would never feel content.

Admittedly, doing it so soon may have been rash, but if he left the city it would only become harder, and he was sure that the group he usually assigned to it couldn’t be traced back to him. At the very least, any time he’d dealt with a problem like that in the past had been fine. Tossing someone in the dead god’s trial was the perfect means of disposal. In all the millennia it had been on the world, nobody had ever left it, meaning not only was it a perfect way to get rid of an annoyance, it ensured the body was never found.

Honestly, I can only imagine how many others have used it the same way in the past. He thought with a laugh before beginning to move on with his day. While most of his tasks could be delegated, there were still a handful of things he had to do as the head of the political side of allfaith, but at the very least most of it could be done in the comfort of his mansion with his servants around to ensure his needs were met. At least that was how it usually went.

As he took a seat on a cushion, getting himself relaxed as he did, the sounds of demolition could suddenly be heard all too close, making him jolt upright and call out to his staff.

“What the bloody hell is happening?”

None around had any idea, it was only as a group of his hired guards came rushing in that he was able to find out just what was going on.

“We’ve got two mages attacking sir! We’ve lost the dining room and a few others in the surrounding area to the first strike and the rest of the guards are already down! We need to get you out of here!”

He could barely process what he was being told. His guards were far from incompetent, he’d only hired the best to ensure his safety and was making sure to pay them well. The very idea that only two mages could do something like that without being stopped was ludicrous, let alone the fact that they would. Did they really think that they’d be able to get away with this? He wouldn’t even have to dispose of them like any other pest, if they weren’t killed as they were being stopped they would be executed without question.

It was those moments of shock that brought his chances of escape to zero though. As he took his first steps towards his guards, ready to rush to leave, the front and back of the room he was in simply disappeared with a gush of air. Olop was barely able to process the giant boulder that shot by him as he caught sight of the two who had caused such destruction. One he thought he recognised, a cloaked figure he was sure had been present during the contest, and the other he knew he did as he yelled out.

“You think you’ll get away with this Falk you bastard! I’ll have your fucking head!”

He motioned his guards to attack but before a move could be made by them the yeti attacked first, a grey-black mana pouring from him and leaving those around him instantly incapacitated, not only the guards, but his other staff collapsed on the ground in an instant. Only he was still standing and making him aware of just how desperate the situation might be for him.

Wasn’t he just a fucking smith?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Alright alright, stop this nonsense now and we can sort this out,” Olop commanded, showing none of the fear he was feeling as Falk stayed silent. The rage on the yeti’s face was clear for all to see and his bloodlust poured from him.

Seeing in the yeti’s eyes that there’d be no negotiating and with nothing else he could think to do, Olop tried to run. He just needed to hold out long enough for the city’s templars to arrive. As the religious capital of the world there was plenty, and a disturbance like this wouldn’t go unnoticed, but before he made it more than a step the man was on him, and with the tremendous strength that came from both his race, as well as having awakened skills and years of training to increase his attributes, he grabbed Olop’s arm with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and began to pull.

The scream that erupted from Olop’s throat left it raw, but he couldn’t even notice it compared to the pain of his flesh tearing and bones breaking as his arm was ripped from his body, blood poured out of him in a flood as he watched in horror at the damage that had been done in an instant.