Flashy Adventurer System : Show Off to Get Stronger! - Chapter 913

Chapter 913: Grimmer and Grimmer
Kiin couldn’t answer immediately.

His brain seemingly couldn’t function properly when it came to matters involving his mother.

He knew that the bastard was merely using him at this point.

And while there was a chance that what Dweezel was saying was true, it was extremely slim.

But what truly made him pause was the old snake’s admission that he no longer had any feelings for his mother.

That, more than anything, made him think that maybe—just maybe—there was still a way to accomplish his mother’s lifelong dream, even if it would be a lie.

For him, as long as his mother was happy, that was enough.

He could ignore the fact that Dweezel would only be pretending.

Ultimately, though…

“Fine, you can expect results from me, Lord Father,” Kiin said through gritted teeth. “However, please uphold your end of the deal should I succeed.”

Of course, Dweezel nodded with a smile, seemingly forgetting that his own son called him a bastard, though he naturally didn’t.

“Good. Shye Crowley is trapped with Chaos on the eighth floor, hallway seventeen. Take your brothers and sisters. Whoever brings me that bastard’s head will become my heir. Simple as that.”

The old snake gave him an encouraging tap on the shoulder before returning to the front of the two rows of Hawklings.

“Now then, I assume the mission is clear to everyone. Go—time is of the essence.”

The Hawklings turned and headed for the exit of the metallic room, some deliberately bumping into him—making it clear who liked him… and who didn’t.

And most of them didn’t.

Even his second brother, Hathor, ignored him—but that was still neutral compared to the others, who made their hostility clear.

Kiin understood why, though, as they were all rivals, and not in a friendly sense.

Everyone was vying for the fake throne.

Soon, Kiin, too, followed and exited the room, leaving only Primo and Dweezel inside.

The old snake glanced at his eldest with furrowed brows.

“So, why are you not leaving yet?” he asked with a slightly stern voice.

Primo hesitated for a moment before finally saying what was on his mind:

“Lord Father, about Fifteen’s mother…isn’t she already…”

“Primo,” Dweezel coldly called out. “What have I repeatedly taught you about confirming things you already know? If you keep having these moments of incompetence, I might have to reconsider giving you the position of heir…”

The eldest hawkling shuddered inwardly. But of course, he didn’t show it to his Lord Father.

He left as well, offering a simple nod of affirmation and a slight bow of apology.

“I apologize, Lord Father. Well then, I shall also take my leave—wait for the good news.”

Soon after his eldest son left, a cold smirk appeared on Dweezel’s aged face.

***

‘Tch, there’s no end to them…’ Shye cursed inwardly, splitting another Lesser Soul Warrior vertically in two.

While he still wasn’t tired, he was beginning to at least sweat, mostly due to Chaos’ sneaky attacks.

He managed to defend against the treacherous bastard’s attacks, though not without suffering a few minor cuts along the way.

With his physique, the wounds healed on their own, but a few marks remained—evidence of Chaos’ annoyingly effective strikes from the shadows.

On the other hand, the Chaos and Tigren elites were panting rather hard in exhaustion.

The latter slightly more than the former.

They’ve cut down countless Soul Warriors and their lesser versions, and they’re still somehow surviving—though not without the cost of their brothers-in-arms’ lives.

As of now, around a thousand elites have fallen, and their numbers were swiftly dwindling by the second due to the relentless assault of the forbidden creations.

Unlike them, the bastards never tire. They only ever stop attacking when they’re dead.

To make matters worse, their warrior ranks were thinning, with only around eight hundred left to hold the line.

Once the soul creations broke through, the backliners in the middle would be slaughtered.

Fortunately, a few things were going their way.

Ninth Hawkling, locked in battle with Vice Commander Feather, was on the verge of defeat.

Meanwhile, although Commander Tigren and his Vice Commander, Stonecold, were on the losing side, they were at least still holding their ground.

Once Feather finished off his opponent, he could easily assist the two.

The problem was, it wouldn’t matter—unless reinforcements arrived, their situation would only worsen.

Shye had already attempted to carve a path for them, but Chaos was making it nearly impossible for them to even attempt a breakthrough through the lines of forbidden warriors.

“Feather, any updates about the reinforcements?!” Tigren asked as he blocked a blow from Balkan with his green, adamantite-tier shield.

The Kirov Unit has been ordered by Commander Maverick to abandon the Broadcasting Office and assist us—they should be on the way!” Feather replied, narrowly missing Ninth Hawkling’s neck by a few chilling millimeters as he tried to decapitate him.

Tigren was, of course, concerned about the operation, but their situation was more urgent. He didn’t dare ask questions about what would happen to the plan regarding the Broadcasting Stations.

The old head much preferred to escape alive.

And so, the battle raged on for a while longer.

Shye did his best to survive alongside his comrades, fighting against the endless tide of forbidden warriors for the next few minutes.

***

*CLANG!*

A sword and a dagger clashed for the hundredth time.

“You shameless old fart! You still dare preach your nonsense about justice after sending the men who trusted you to their deaths?!” Alicia snarled, pressing her blade harder against his neck—but it was futile.

Grover was a warrior, and in sheer strength, he overpowered her.

Alicia’s dagger was stopped.

“Hmph!” the old commander snorted in response.”Why should I care about the deaths of filthy troublemakers?!”

The two jumped back and then lunged at each other again, brandishing their weapons as they closed the distance.

However, before they could strike, Grover’s mana communicator rang in a strange tone.

The WAA was calling.