Floating Island - Triple S Talent - Chapter 233

Chapter 233: Holas
The woman who stopped Abigail looked sternly at the civilians. She scanned the crowd, ensuring every pair of eyes locked onto her before she spoke. “Anyone who wants to die, follow the old man’s lead!” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the cold night air.

Then, she turned and followed Abigail, leaving the civilians frozen in place. Though they suffered, at least they were still alive. The old man who insulted the president now lay lifeless, his head destroyed by the magical attack.

“The latest report from a few hours ago said the president is dead,”

a young man among the crowd muttered grimly. Though it was hard to say, he felt the truth needed to be known to prevent anyone else from acting as recklessly as the old man.

“What? The president is dead?” An older man’s voice cracked in despair. His eyes widened as he clutched his hair in frustration, pulling at it as if trying to tear his head apart.

“This is it… we’re all going to die!”

“No! I don’t want to die!” cried a woman, her voice soon echoed by others.

Panic spread like wildfire, consuming the crowd. People began shouting, running, and shoving, creating complete chaos.

The young man who had shared the news froze, trembling as the shadow of death crept into his mind. He realized that revealing the truth in times of war could be a double-edged sword.

The chaos escalated, spreading to about 10% of the area surrounding the protective wall. The guards, including Abigail and her companion, fought desperately to calm the panicked civilians.

“Everyone, stay calm! There’s no need to panic! We will survive!” Abigail shouted, her voice struggling to cut through the noise.

“Trust in Lord Holas! He will lead us out of this!” another guard urged, trying to instill hope in those who would listen.

But the panic only grew worse. Fear-stricken civilians moved erratically, like people who had lost all hope. Their hysteria spread, driving them to act like uncontrollable zombies.

On top of the wall, a large man with bulging muscles surveyed the battlefield beyond the protective barrier. His sharp gaze scanned every approaching enemy with unwavering focus.

“Sir, why haven’t you fled?” asked a young woman, his assistant, her voice trembling with fear.

“What do you mean?” the man replied, his tone flat and emotionless.

“With your Tier-3 strength, you could join the World Market Alliance easily. At least you would survive and not perish on this tiny island,” the assistant explained, hoping to make him understand.

The large man chuckled briefly, a trace of mockery in his laugh. “You underestimate me, huh?”

The assistant fell silent, her expression turning fearful, but she quickly corrected herself. “No, sir. I just meant… your life is more valuable than anyone else’s on this island.”

“Enough. Stop trying to drag me out of here,” the man snapped, his tone firm and resolute. “I’m not as weak as Aryon.”

He shifted his gaze back toward the battlefield. From within the fog of war, more enemies advanced toward the wall. Among the attackers stood an old man in white robes, a radiant halo glowing behind his head. His powerful aura radiated intimidation, paralyzing those who looked upon him.

“At least… I’ll die at the hands of a Faithwarden as strong as that old man,” the large man murmured, finding a strange sense of peace in the thought.

“NO, SIR!” the assistant cried, trying to stop him.

But it was too late. The man had already leaped from the top of the wall, plunging straight toward the old man in white robes, his resolve unshakable.

As his body sailed through the air, the world seemed to freeze. There was only him, his target, and the destiny awaiting him below.

“Good luck, Lord Holas,” the female assistant whispered as she watched the large figure vanish into the darkness of the night. She then quickly activated the communication device in her hand and began announcing something with a firm tone.

Within seconds, all the soldiers still on duty, trying to calm the civilians, received the emergency message on their communication devices. The restless atmosphere instantly shifted. The soldiers stopped what they were doing and read the newly received message.

“It’s time… our turn,” one of the soldiers shouted with excitement.

“Let’s go… I’m not afraid!” another one responded, gripping his weapon tighter.

Determined expressions appeared in their eyes, and doubt vanished. A chorus of battle cries echoed from the ranks of soldiers, who had previously been tense. They knew this was a crucial moment—the time when their courage would be put to the test.

The emergency announcement spread swiftly, reaching every soldier, including Abigail and her companion. They immediately prepared and lined up neatly in front of the great wall, uniting their resolve to face the approaching enemy.

Meanwhile, far beyond the protective wall, Holas had already entered the battlefield. His tall, imposing figure now looked even more formidable, clad in blue combat gear that wrapped around his body. Standing over 2.5 meters tall, he resembled a giant ready to take on anything. In both hands, he wielded long steel claws that shimmered sharply, their reflections visible even in the night’s darkness.

“I wonder how strong these creatures from beyond realms are,” Holas muttered with a fierce gaze, his sharp eyes locking onto a small creature at the front of the enemy ranks. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward at incredible speed.

Holas’s powerful arm moved swiftly, ripping through the head of the foreign soldier in front of him with a single brutal motion. Blood sprayed in all directions, and without giving his enemy a chance to react, he delivered a crushing kick. The blow shattered the soldier’s body instantly, tearing it apart. In his ears, the chime of a kill notification echoed, signaling the life he had just claimed.

But Holas had no intention of stopping. With an even sharper gaze, he shifted his focus to a weaker soldier nearby. His body shot forward like a shadow, the steel claws in his hands poised to shred anything in his path.

“Run! Get away! That’s a Tier-3 being!” panicked shouts erupted among the foreign troops, scattering as Holas approached.

“Call Lord Jen!” another foreign soldier screamed, his eyes wide with fear. They weren’t foolish—they knew the danger Holas posed. Without hesitation, they began retreating, desperately trying to escape the reach of his deadly claws.