Flashy Adventurer System : Show Off to Get Stronger! - Chapter 912

Chapter 912: Furious Fifteen
Chaos’ attack wasn’t too deadly, or anything.

It was as though he merely wanted to say hello to Shye with his jet-black dagger.

The sounds of their weapons clashed, and naturally, it was Chaos who was sent flying.

Even a roided Cobra couldn’t face Shye head-on—so how could a mere scout hope to?

Yet, Chaos seemed fine, even after clashing head-on with his monstrous strength, fading into the background once more after a brief greeting.

Shye narrowed his eyes, momentarily letting the Tigren elites hold back the soul army while he turned his focus to the traitor.

Who…seemed to have no intention of coming out again anytime soon.

Shye kept his [Mana Pulse] active, but its current detection mode was inefficient. He quickly adjusted it to detect those hidden in space, void, and darkness.

Soon, it yielded results. But what he got was far from what he wanted.

Hiding within what seemed like empty air were exactly a hundred copies of Chaos.

To Shye’s surprise and bewilderment, they were fighting each other like madmen.

Some occasionally attacked him, but whenever their invisible forms did, they vanished a few meters away—just before reaching prime striking distance.

It was a confusing sight.

Then, just when his focus was unknowingly diminishing, a voice sounded beside his left ear, whispering:

“Behind you~”

It was unmistakably Chaos’ voice.

Almost immediately, Shye turned around and slashed a few centimeters below the voice, where the neck should’ve been.

He struck nothing but air, though, resulting in further confusion and slight unease.

It was extremely hard for him to read Chaos’ deceptive fighting style.

Unlike Maia’s aggressive bamboozlement, the treacherous commander’s approach was patient and playful— as if he never cared when the battle would end, simply enjoying the thrill of tormenting his enemies.

A laugh then sounded from somewhere around ten meters away from him.

“Hahahaha! It’s a prank, relax…” Chaos laughed before falling silent again.

Shye waited for a few moments.

However, the cunning bastard had no intention of showing himself anytime soon.

So, Shye returned to the frontlines, relieving a few elites on the verge of collapse from injuries and exhaustion.

At the very least, they had a moment to recover while Shye took their place, cutting down Soul Warriors and Lesser Soul Warriors in their stead.

Of course, he never deactivated [Mana Pulse], keeping twenty percent of his focus on Chaos’ invisible, deranged clones.

Fighting the Soul Warriors barely drained him, anyway. He could afford to spare some attention to the clones.

The real problem was Chaos—the filthy rat still hiding in the shadows.

Occasionally, the bastard would pop out and strike viciously before vanishing back into the shadows—or space, or void, or whatever damned place he was hiding in—after just one attack.

Despite his earlier tough words about fighting Shye, Chaos seemed more interested in annoying him than actually engaging in a real fight.

It was truly hard to decipher a Lunatic’s mind.

***

Meanwhile, inside a somber office within the Hawkin Group Headquarters, fourteen individuals stood in formation before an old man—all wearing golden hawk masks, each engraved with a small number on the forehead.

Dweezel was puzzled by the lack of calls from the WAA directors.

However, something far more important had happened—Shye Crowley had fallen into their trap.

Because of this, the old man didn’t dwell too much on the directors’ silence, despite the slight unease in his heart.

He couldn’t afford to overthink to the point of being unable to give orders to his subordinates, could he?

Scanning his eyes over his sons and daughters, Dweezel narrowed his eyes, noticing that a number among those he summoned was missing: fifteen.

“Where’s Fifteen?” he asked coldly, turning to Primo, the First Hawkling, for answers.

“Lord Father… I… summoned him, but he didn’t respond,” Primo admitted truthfully.

His answer made Dweezel frown.

Just then, the metallic doors of the room creaked open, and a young man entered—wearing the missing mask.

Primo luckily escaped his father’s cold wrath.

“Fifteen… you dare disrespect your father by ignoring a summons?” the old snake asked coldly.

To his surprise, though, Fifteenth Hawkling—Kiin, responded with a question:

“Where is my mother?… Where is she?!” Kiin growled, his voice starting low before erupting into a roar, his body trembling with rage.

Dweezel remained silent for a moment, seemingly searching for the right words to say.

It was undeniable that the Fifteenth Hawkling’s contributions surpassed those of most hawklings present.

His cunning infiltrations and consistent, accurate reports on Shye Crowley gave them a clearer picture of just how monstrous the former hero truly was.

He was also the reason they managed to cause trouble for Hadean Varsa, raiding several of their headquarters, eliminating a significant portion of their low-ranked raiders, and obtaining items that hinted at Sanada’s plans.

Moreover, they successfully delayed the old terrorist’s schemes, buying themselves precious time to prepare.

The old snake ultimately decided to come clean about what truly happened.

“Your mother… lost her mind and caused a scene in front of my mansion, threatening to expose the Hawklings and the Hawkin Group unless I met with her. So, I ordered Balkan to throw her into prison for her insolence and madness.” Dweezel explained.

In truth, he could barely remember the times he shared with that crazy woman in his younger days. To him, she was nothing more than Fifteenth’s mother.

Years of soul experiments on himself had left his memories of the past muddled and hazy.

Kiin, of course, trembled even more at the words he had just heard.

His mother… his beloved mother had been thrown into the cold, somber dungeons of Hawkin Mansion?

“YOU BASTARD!! THIS IS HOW YOU REWARD ME FOR MY CONTRIBUTIONS?!” the blue-haired young man raged, pulling his bow from his spatial bag and shooting a vicious, skill-enhanced arrow at Dweezel.

Unfortunately, with so many eager Hawklings in front of the old snake, there was no way his arrow would hit.

Primo and Hathor—the second Hawkling, didn’t even have to make their move.

Just when the Hawklings were about to retaliate in the name of their lord father, however, Dweezel reappeared in front of them with his hands raised, signaling for them to stop.

The old man then walked slowly towards Kiin—whose chest was heaving up and down in fury.

“I, as your father, shall permit this audacity just this once. You have indeed made contributions, so I’ll tell you what.”

Dweezel leaned in closer, whispering his next words:

“If you make more and bring me Shye Crowley’s head—by any means necessary—I shall immediately declare you my heir.

And, just as you wish, I will live with your mother. Although I’m sure you know my affection for her is long gone, I will act well on your behalf, give her some of my attention, and make her happy.

So, what do you say?”