Chapter 89: The Secret Technique

Chapter 89: Chapter 89: The Secret Technique

Brutus stood up.

His body was broken. His muscles were torn. His bones were cracked. Blood poured from a dozen wounds. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every movement was agony. Every breath was pain.

But he stood.

Elara saw him. Her eyes widened. Her face twisted with worry.

"Brutus," she said. "What are you doing? Sit down."

Paul saw him too. He was standing in front of Brutus, his wind swirling around him, his hands raised. He looked tired. Scared. Overwhelmed.

"Seriously, man," Paul said. "You’re going to hurt yourself more. Just stay down. We’ve got this."

Brutus shook his head. He didn’t speak. He just stood there. His legs were shaking. His arms were trembling. But he didn’t fall.

"I said sit down," Elara repeated. Her voice was sharper now. More commanding. "You can barely stand. You can’t fight."

Brutus looked at her. His eyes were tired. But they were also determined. Hard. Unyielding.

"I have to," he said.

"No, you don’t. Paul and I can handle this."

"No. You can’t."

Elara opened her mouth to argue. Then she stopped. She looked at Brutus. At his face. At his eyes.

She had seen that look before. She had seen it in the mirror. It was the look of someone who had made a decision. Someone who wouldn’t back down.

"Fine," she said. "But don’t die."

Brutus smiled. A weak, tired smile. "I’ll try."

Paul groaned. "Why is everyone so stubborn? Why can’t anyone just listen to reason?"

"Because reason is boring," Brutus said.

"This isn’t the time for jokes!"

"I wasn’t joking."

Paul threw his hands up. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable." He looked at the sky. At the dark clouds. At the fading light. "I would rather be anywhere else right now. Literally anywhere. I would rather be fighting a hundred Dire Wolves. I would rather be running naked through the desert. I would rather be—"

"Paul," Elara said.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Paul’s mouth snapped shut. He crossed his arms. He looked at Daniel’s direction. Wherever Daniel was.

"You know," he muttered, "Daniel is so lucky. He’s probably fighting some weak monster. Or taking a nap. Or eating a nice meal. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with two stubborn idiots and a crazy elf."

Brutus ignored him. Elara ignored him too.

Brutus closed his eyes. He stood still. His breathing slowed. His heart calmed. His mind cleared.

The elf watched him. His eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Praying? Meditating? It won’t help you."

Brutus didn’t answer. He just stood there. Still. Silent. Peaceful.

The elf laughed. A cold, mocking laugh.

"Has he really given up?" he asked. "Hahaha! Bullshit! He’s just standing there! He’s given up! He knows he can’t win!"

Elara looked at the elf. Her expression was unreadable.

"What happened to your slow talk?" she asked.

The elf blinked. "What?"

"Your slow talk. The way you were speaking. ’I... am... here... for... the... core...’ All dramatic and slow. Like you were trying to look cool."

The elf’s face went red. He stammered. "I... I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You were trying to look cool. And now you’re talking normally. It’s like you forgot to keep up the act."

"I... I got something stuck in my throat!"

Elara raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

The elf’s face was burning. His hands were clenched. His aura was flickering.

"I am cool!" he shouted. "I am the coolest person here! I am—"

"Sure you are."

"Stop mocking me!"

"Stop being mockable."

The elf screamed with rage. He raised his hand. Wind gathered. A spear formed.

But before he could attack, Brutus spoke.

"Father."

The elf froze. He looked at Brutus. At his closed eyes. At his peaceful face.

"What?" the elf asked. "Who the fuck is your father?"

Brutus didn’t answer. He kept talking to himself.

"Father. I will not break your promise."

The elf stared at him. His mouth was open. His eyes were wide.

"What is he talking about?" he demanded. "Who is his father? Why is he talking to himself?"

Elara didn’t answer. She was watching Brutus. Her eyes were soft. Sad.

"I promised you," Brutus continued. "I promised to use my strength to protect people. I promised to be better than I was. I promised to honor your last words."

The elf was confused. Frustrated. Angry.

"Stop ignoring me!" he shouted. "Answer my questions!"

Brutus didn’t respond. He just kept talking.

"I kept my promise, Father. I protected people. I protected the weak. I protected the innocent."

He paused.

"I found a family. A real family. People who care about me. People who accept me. People who love me."

He opened his eyes. He looked at Elara. Then at Paul.

"Thank you," he said. "For being my family."

Elara smiled. A warm, genuine smile. She raised her hand. She gave him a thumbs up.

"You’re welcome," she said.

Paul looked at her. Then at Brutus. His face was twisted with confusion.

"What is happening?" he whispered. "What is he doing?"

Elara didn’t answer. She just kept smiling.

Brutus turned to Paul. He was still smiling. His eyes were warm.

"Paul," he said. "You too. Thank you."

Paul blinked. "What? Why? I didn’t do anything."

"You were there. You fought with me. You stood by me. That’s enough."

Paul’s face went through several emotions. Confusion. Discomfort. Something softer.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You’re being weird. But... you’re welcome? I guess?"

Elara gave him a thumbs up. Paul looked at her. Then at Brutus. Then at his own hand.

He copied her. He gave a thumbs up. A weird, forced smile on his face.

"Good job," he said. "I’m... proud of you? I don’t know what’s happening."

Brutus laughed. A warm, genuine laugh. He turned back to the elf.

The elf was staring at him. His face was a mask of confusion and rage.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "What are you doing? Why are you thanking them? Why are you laughing?"

Brutus looked at him. His eyes were calm. Steady.

"What’s your name?" he asked.

The elf blinked. "What?"

"Your name. What is it?"

The elf hesitated. Then he answered. "Benjamin."

Brutus nodded. "Benjamin. That’s a good name."

"What does it matter? I’m going to kill you."

Brutus pointed at him. His finger was steady. His eyes were hard.

"You hurt my family," he said. "You hurt Elara. You hurt Paul. You hurt me."

Benjamin laughed. "And what are you going to do about it? You can barely stand. You can’t fight. You can’t win."

Brutus smiled. A cold, dangerous smile.

"I’ve been holding back," he said.

Benjamin’s laugh stopped. His eyes widened.

"What?"

"I’ve been holding back. I have techniques. Secret techniques. Techniques I forbade myself from using. Techniques that are too dangerous. Too powerful."

Benjamin stared at him. His face was pale.

"You’re lying," he said. "You’re bluffing."

"I’m not."

Brutus flexed.

His muscles bulged. His veins popped. His skin gleamed. His aura exploded.

Golden energy swirled around him. It crackled and hummed. It pulsed with power. It was brighter than before. Hotter. Denser.

Benjamin stepped back. His eyes were wide. His mouth was open.

"What... what is this?"

Brutus smiled. A wide, confident smile.

"This," he said, "is the power of my boys."

He flexed again. His muscles grew. His body expanded. His presence filled the clearing.

"The name of this technique," he said, "is.."

"GO! GO! GO! BOYS GOOOO!!!"

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[Magic castle = 5 bonus Chapter’s]

[space craft = 15 bonus Chapter’s]

[golden gachapon = 20 bonus Chapter’s]