Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 216: I WANT THE EMPEROR DEAD

The intensity of Greg's unyielding gaze made Bishop Kelly's confidence shatter like fragile porcelain beneath a relentless hammer. It was as though the bishop stood accused before an immutable tribunal, his every secret and deceit laid bare, awaiting an irrevocable sentence. The room seemed to grow colder with every second under Greg's piercing stare.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Bishop Kelly stammered, his voice trembling as he lowered himself into a posture of submission. "I will see to it that my mistakes are corrected." His words bore the heavy cloak of repentance, but beneath that mask, his mind churned like a stormy sea—scheming how to turn this moment of humiliation into a reckoning for Greg once he was free.

Greg's eyes did not waver. "There is no need to correct your mistakes," he said deliberately, every word sharp as a blade. "It wasn't all a lie after all. Yes, I have walked the demon realm and command loyal demonic creatures. But you— you spoke what you should never have uttered. You called me a servant of another. I care little for how the world judges me, traitor or otherwise. But that... that is a different matter entirely. For that, I am offended." His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones.

Greg raised a single finger, pointing it at the trembling bishop. A shudder ran through Bishop Kelly as if a sudden icy wind had pierced his spine. "No! Please! I beg you! Don't do this! I'm so—" His desperate plea was cut short as his body crumpled lifelessly to the cold stone floor, eyes wide with shock and unspent terror.

Prince Jason stood frozen, the icy grip of dread tightening like a vise around his heart. Death had never seemed so near. When Greg's gaze shifted to him, his blood felt like it stopped flowing, his heart pounding so violently it threatened to burst his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged; his throat constricted, swallowing his voice whole.

"You won't die now," Greg said quietly, voice low and resolute. "Your father will witness your death. I want him to watch me destroy everything he holds dear—right before his very eyes." Without another word, Greg rose and turned away from the castle, Prince Jason forced to follow, his movements shackled by the cruel power of Dragon's Tongue.

The war commander and the remaining soldiers watched silently as Greg's figure faded into the distance, his destination unmistakable: the capital city of the Grey Empire. Yet no one dared pursue him—relieved their own lives were spared, if only temporarily.

Greg showed no mercy, treating the soldiers like mere ants beneath his feet—insignificant and easily discarded.

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The chill night air whipped against Greg's face as he soared over the empire's vast capital, the towering stone walls looming like ancient sentinels beneath a sky heavy with clouds. Clutched tightly by the neck, Prince Jason was forced to follow, his expression etched with reluctant defeat. Each step Greg took rang out with the certainty of a man who claimed the very earth as his own.

Suddenly, a knight stepped from the shadows, sword drawn, blocking Greg's path. "Halt! Who goes there?" the knight demanded, voice sharp and commanding.

Greg replied casually, as if stating an ordinary fact. "Just someone who wants the emperor's head."

The knight blinked in disbelief. To speak so boldly, in the very heart of imperial power—who was this man? Madness, or arrogance beyond reason?

Unbeknownst to the knight, Greg's previous strike on the empire had been carefully cloaked in secrecy, dismissed by the emperor as rumor and dismissed by the court as a passing threat. Prince Jason had been sent on a fabricated expedition to rally troops—an elaborate lie to mask the true danger. Acknowledging the threat would mean admitting vulnerability, a wound to the empire's pride. Soon, however, they would pay dearly for that denial.

Greg advanced with measured steps, his calm demeanor granting him passage.

"Step no further! One move and I will end your life. You stand accused of insulting the emperor and the empire," the knight warned, eyes narrowing.

With a wave of his hand, Greg summoned abyssal flames that erupted and consumed the knight instantly, reducing him to ash within seconds.

An eerie silence blanketed the crowd for five heartbeats—then pandemonium erupted. Citizens screamed in terror, scattering like leaves before a storm. The audacity of such defiance within their capital was unthinkable. Fear took root in every heart, and survival became the only thought.

"You! How dare you kill an empire knight! Die!" another knight roared, charging with lethal force. His sword flashed through the air, but flame swallowed him whole before he could strike.

From shadowed corners, an assassin lunged at Greg's back, dagger poised—but Greg anticipated the attack with chilling ease. The assassin's body disintegrated to ash without a sound.

Archers concealed in the high battlements unleashed a deadly volley, arrows streaking toward Greg with deadly precision. But they passed harmlessly through the air, unable to touch him.

Greg flicked his wrist. Arrows erupted into existence, their tips blazing with dark, reddish abyssal fire. The arrows whirled around him before he sent them hurtling at impossible speeds, incinerating the archers in their nests.

Realizing their position was compromised, the archers fled—only to be chased relentlessly by flaming death.

Prince Jason's heart sank as he watched proud knights, deadly assassins, and skilled archers fall powerless before a single man. His father's warnings echoed in his mind: men like this must be crushed before they can grow strong, or all will suffer. Now Jason understood the bitter truth. A swell of sorrow and helplessness rose within him.

Greg stood unmoving, as calm and cold as the eye of a storm, waiting.

After a long moment, impatience crept into his voice. "Stop hiding like rats and come out already. I don't have all day," he said smoothly.

"Quite the sharp perception you have there," a masculine deep voice said to Greg, chuckling softly