Chapter 932 (1/2)

“I will take the lead,” Paolo said as he adjusted his leather gloves. The thick leather was almost purple, a dulled remnant of the vivid dinosaur that Paolo had slain in order to acquire the leather. After that, the processing of the material had taken even more effort; he had to pay Sam a small fortune due to how intensive it was to handle the stubborn skin.

Kayle smirked, examining his reflection in one of his long knives. The knife was impeccably polished, revealing every contour of his jaw. “Is that so? One shouldn’t make statements so casually when you clearly lack the capability to follow up on them… what if a child hears and is disappointed?”

With a flick of the wrist, the beautiful blade spun into a pure silver disk. Then, just as quickly, Kayle slid the knife into one of the many sheaths that were strapped to his hips and waist. The two shared a single glance. And in that glance was enough condensed violence that everyone nearby felt something akin to a physical slap.

Stan sighed as he rubbed his tingling cheeks. “You must work together. His spearwork is aided by that powerful image, but-”

“Impossible.” Kayle seemed aghast. “We are separate Squads.”

Paolo blinked. “With him? It would do more harm than good-”

“-his ability to even notice me moving at high speeds is in doubt-”

“-what if I break him accidentally with a wild swing? His thin wrists-”

“-and Stan, please do not get me started on his smell. Do you know he chews basil raw?”

Rubbing his forehead, Stan pressed forward. “His moves are unrefined and wasteful. Your Squads are the only groups that have a hope of catching him in those weaknesses. Every member of the Squad is an elite. If you move as one unit and exploit those weaknesses, we can make a better plan for the final.”

Both men fell silent and turned to look at Stan skeptically.

“Isn’t the plan just to win?” Paolo seemed incredibly disinterested. He turned to a woman from his Squad, which passed him a warm towel. With practiced ease, he produced a razor with his one hand, rubbed his head with the towel, and then began to studiously shave his head. “Why over complicate it with things that can go wrong. Like Kayle and his lackeys.”

“I agree, but for different reasons.” Kayle’s Squad members brought a wrought iron table and chair and set it before him. A man walked forward and flapped out a tablecloth that was quickly spread across the table. A moment later another man arrived and placed a soup and salad on the table.

After taking a taste of the soup, Kayle looked speculatively at the darkening sky. “Well… we will need to work on this recipe. Just like Randidly needs to work on his fighting style. It’s not like we noticed it. I don’t doubt even that monkey caught a hint of it.”

“At this point, I could imitate his style so well that even his mother would be hard-pressed to tell whether I was her own flesh and blood,” Paolo said with a yawn as he casually scraped the razor across his head.

Kayle didn’t bother to acknowledge the other man. “Should we really give him this trial run to hone his Skills? It might be better to surrender and proceed immediately to the real challenge.”

“Coward,” Paolo said softly. But he didn’t bother to contradict Kayle. Instead, he set down his razor and accepted a peeled orange from one of his Squad members.

Kayle twisted his mouth and distaste and flicked a few drops of vinaigrette across his salad. With great vigor, he began to eat.”

Stan shook his head. “If it were truly so easy to refine a fighting style, all of us would have risen to the level of Randidly Ghosthound during this challenge. Believe me, all we need to do now is expose his weaknesses. With the Raid Groups, we will be more than capable of defeating him. Randidly Ghosthound will fall.”

“You fear loss,” Paolo commented. He sniffed loudly for effect. “I can smell it on you. Desperation breeds mistakes, even if the decisions are sound ones. If I can smell that desperation, fate can smell it too. Fate doesn’t even spare children. You will be devoured at this rate, and take us with you.”

Stan clenched his hands into fists. “Yet neither of you is my tactical equal. Can you deny that both of you lost to me? Trust me. I know the flow of battles. This is our time.”

“And how many battles have you fought against the Ghosthound himself, little man?” Kayle mocked. But then he shrugged and set down his silverware. “Ah, it’s too late, you’ve already ruined my appetite. Might as well just go out there and face him.”

“I hope he punches you so hard you vomit up that shit,” Paolo said with a shake of the head. But he too stood and stretched his arms above his head. His shoulders popped with such volume that Stan flinched.

“I hope he smashes in that misshapen head of yours. Finally, give it some symmetry.” Kayle said around a yawn.

Then all at once, both focused.

“Time to work.”

“Don’t hold me back.”

Together, the two and their Squads stepped up into the arena.

Feeling extremely frustrated, Stan returned to the VIP box. Even now, he sat several seats away from Mrs. Hamilton, trying his best not to stare at his own drying blood that stained the ground. The empty space where his pinky had once been was aching painfully.