Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 74: Badass Entry (2)

Chapter 74: Badass Entry (2)

The suffocating silence that followed Thutmose’s question still gripped the chamber like a noose—tight, tense, and unrelenting. The air had weight, pressing against lungs and wrapping around throats, heavy with unshed answers and accusations too dangerous to voice aloud.

Even the torches lining the walls seemed to flicker more slowly, casting elongated shadows that danced with unease.

Then—

A shift.

Subtle. Like a ripple in still water.

Every head in the chamber turned in unison, to where the sound had come from. A feeling stirred in their bones—a presence. One that had not been there a moment ago... or had been, all along, unnoticed.

Eyes scanned the chamber with confusion... until they found him.

A lone figure stood leaning casually against the far wall, half-swallowed by the shadows cast by a nearby torch sconce. His head bowed slightly, eyes closed—not in rest, but in something more deliberate. Stillness, unnatural and practiced.

His black attire blended with the stone behind him, making it chilling that no one had sensed his presence earlier.

As if he had been standing there the entire time, listening. Watching. Waiting.

And draped across his broad shoulders like a living, breathing mantle was a white tigress, her fur pristine and glowing faintly in the flickering firelight. She lounged there with feline arrogance, golden eyes half-lidded and tail swaying with slow, measured confidence—like a queen indulging a room of insects.

The two of them looked utterly out of place—and yet, in that moment, they owned the space.

No words had been spoken yet.

No mana had been released.

And yet, the very atmosphere had changed.

More than one heartbeat in the room faltered.

’Who is that?’

It wasn’t spoken aloud, but it rang through every mind like a shared scream.

How long has he been there?

How... how didn’t anyone notice?

The unspoken question thundered in every mind.

Even Thutmose, one heartbeat away from launching at Lucy moments earlier, faltered. His sharp gaze narrowed, thoughts racing.

’How long has he been here...? Why didn’t I sense him?’

Then, the stranger’s eyes opened.

Twin pools of liquid gold scanned the room, unhurried yet piercing. No mana surged from him—yet the moment his gaze passed over them, it felt as though a colossal weight pressed down on every shoulder in the chamber. Not killing intent... not even hostility.

Just... presence.

A pressure so thick it nearly dragged some to their knees.

Equal to the Patrician.

Sweat formed on foreheads. Spines straightened involuntarily.

Reacting on instinct, every Grandmaster in the hall released their mana, directing it like spears at the intruder. The air cracked and hissed with power as invisible walls of energy surged forward.

But the stranger didn’t move. His breathing didn’t change. He simply blinked—unbothered, unimpressed, untouchable.

Then a small, feminine voice cut through the charged air, light but unmistakably mocking.

"Please. Put away those pitiful auras. You’re making me want to laugh."

Gasps followed—not from the man, but from his shoulder.

The tigress had spoken.

Eyes widened as Nyxara lifted her head, amusement glittering in her feline eyes as she lazily scanned the stunned room.

"Hey Alex," she said with a purr of playful irritation. "Say something, will you? That pose is getting old."

Still, the man said nothing. But a faint twitch pulled at his jaw.

Nyxara gave a theatrical sigh. "You know that pose only works briefly after a reveal, right? Don’t ruin our badass entrance. You’re killing the vibe."

No one laughed.

No one moved.

No one knew what to do.

One of the elders, trembling between authority and disbelief, finally broke the silence.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here? Also—what in the gods’ names is that talking cat?"

As each world came out from the elder’s mouth, the amount of mana that kept coming out from him increased.

Before the elder could even finish his sentence, Nyxara’s eyes narrowed, her playful gleam vanishing instantly.

Then—it hit.

Her mana exploded outward in a pulse of ancient, suffocating dominance.

It wasn’t loud. There was no flash of light. No thunderclap. Just a shift in the air so absolute, , it struck like an invisible guillotine.

The elder who had dared to speak dropped instantly to his knees.

Blood burst from his nostrils, ears, and tear ducts as he gasped, choking on nothing, clawing at the floor beneath him as though trying to escape the crushing weight.

"Hnghh—!?" he managed to wheeze, before his limbs gave out completely.

Everyone felt it.

That... presence.

It was unmistakable—a Legend-rank beast.

No one questioned it. The mana that had radiated from Nyxara was unlike anything they’d ever encountered within these walls. It wasn’t chaotic like a magical beast’s might usually was—it was controlled, directed, and purposeful.

And every ounce of it had been funneled directly onto the elder.

The rest of the room?

They could still breathe... but only barely.

Even Thutmose flinched. Sweat trickled down his temple as he instinctively tightened his stance. His mana stirred—but he didn’t release it. Not yet. Not after feeling that.

The Grandmasters exchanged glances, their auras slowly retreating without needing to be told.

Fear.

Real fear.

Not for their lives, but for their understanding of what just stepped into their hall.

And the most terrifying part?

Nyxara hadn’t moved. She was still lounging across Alex’s shoulders like a pampered cat, staring down the elder who now lay trembling, broken at the edge of the gathering.

"Next time," she said, her voice low and laced with disdain, "choose your tone wisely when speaking to a Queen."

Her tail flicked once.

The pressure vanished.

The elder collapsed entirely, his breath ragged, face pale, and soaked in sweat. But he was alive.

Barely.

Alex’s golden eyes still hadn’t blinked.

No one moved as they were frozen

....

The silence after the outburst was absolute.

But Thutmose couldn’t hear it. Not truly.

His mind was flooded—not with fear, not yet—but with a tidal wave of disbelief, confusion, and sharpened instinct clawing at his spine.

His eyes were fixed on the elder who had dared to raise his voice.

Now, that same man lay crumpled on the floor. Blood seeped slowly from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His limbs twitched sporadically as if his nervous system no longer remembered how to function.

A Legend-rank pressure had done that.

And it hadn’t come from the boy.

No.

It had come from the tigress—small, elegant, lounging lazily over the intruder’s shoulders like a scarf of living death. Her fur shimmered with a natural luster beneath the torchlight, and her golden eyes glinted with something almost... smug, as if the room itself bored her.

And the aura she had just released...

It was unlike anything Thutmose had ever experienced outside of his father. And even then—it felt... wilder. More destructive but controlled. The air itself had warped. Space bent. It wasn’t just mana; it was authority, raw and undeniable.

His eyes darted quickly across the room, watching the Grandmasters who had just moments ago stood tall and defiant. Now, each one wore a thin mask of composure over the truth:

They were shaken.

And for good reason.

A beast of that level had not just snuck into the heart of the Earth Clan estate, but had done so undetected, seated beside a boy none of them recognized.

No... wait.

He looked closer. Golden eyes. Yellow hair. That quiet but dangerous calm...

Thutmose had seen that combination before—from.somewhere. Isn’t that the Thunder Clan signature look. Their yellow piercing eyes.

Is that...?

No. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

His gaze snapped back to the elder on the ground. His breathing was shallow now.

That pressure. That was Legend-rank. And it wasn’t even fully unleashed.

Thutmose exhaled slowly, trying to contain the rising storm inside him. One mistake. One misstep. That tigress could kill any of them. All of them, if provoked.

And the boy...

Still hadn’t moved.

He stood there, unmoving, his expression unreadable. But something in those golden eyes stirred Thutmose’s gut.

They weren’t lifeless.

They were measuring.

Calculating.

Watching them the way a king would observe prey—not with hunger, but judgment. As if deciding who was worth speaking to... and who wasn’t worth breathing air.

What the hell is going on...?

Who the hell is this boy?

....

Alex stood there, watching as the room shifted in an instant. The moment Nyxara released her mana, a wave of invisible pressure swept across the hall. He saw it—clear as day—the fear etched into their faces. These were the same people meant to dictate the rules of a Higher Clan, now reduced to trembling beneath a mere glimpse of Nyxara’s power. And it wasn’t even her full strength.

But not everyone faltered. Thutmose remained standing. Though the strain was visible—his clenched fists, the flicker of resistance in his eyes—he didn’t bow. He held his ground, firm in defiance. Alex blinked, surprised, his gaze locking with Thutmose’s. There was something in that moment—silent, intense—as if both recognized something unspoken in the other.

After a few minutes of that intense stare contest.

Alex moved.....