Floating Island - Triple S Talent

"That old man lives up to the rumors. Some acquaintances said his dark magic was extraordinary... and now I truly believe it," muttered a disheveled blonde-haired soldier, his blue eyes filled with dread as he stared at the sky. The figure of Haikal Emanuel controlled the black spears effortlessly, like a conductor leading a symphony of death.

The other soldiers' eyes were fixed, standing still as if facing a living nightmare. There was a faint sense of gratitude among them, though subtle—thankful they were still breathing. But fear pierced deeper. Haikal Emanuel, the old man with the cold smile, was a real threat that sent chills down their spines.

"I... was blind," William muttered, his voice breaking with deep regret. His face, once glowing with optimism, was now a shadow of his former self. His eyes were vacant, staring down at the dusty ground.

"How... could I have missed such an opportunity?" he whispered again, more to himself, trying to understand but failing. His mind was filled with once-unshakeable dreams—his S-class talent that he had always prided himself on, now felt like a bitter joke. His leadership over the American Alliance, which he once thought was his destiny, now seemed trivial.

All of it had made him forget the harsh reality he now faced: in the Divine Sky realm, true power held dominion, not status or empty achievements.

He turned, looking at his closest soldier, Ricky, with a tense gaze. "Ask about Master Harrison's condition," he said, his tone more of a command than a request.

William could have asked Harrison himself about the situation. But that wouldn't be wise in the heat of this intense war. If he delayed Harrison even a few seconds for a response, wouldn't that be foolish?

"Yes, Sir." Ricky quickly activated the communication device on his wrist. His fingers danced across the screen, typing rapidly. His eyes scanned, reading every incoming piece of information, then bowed slightly before reporting.

"Master Harrison has encountered some difficulties, but reinforcements from the World Market Trade Alliance have arrived," Ricky calmly replied, though his breath was heavy. "Additionally, the Russian alliance has also intervened… even President Vladimir Nova has arrived on the battlefield."

William listened carefully, blinking lightly as he heard about the incoming aid. However, when Vladimir Nova's name was mentioned, his eyes suddenly widened, his expression shifting drastically. "Vladimir? He came down personally?" His voice rose, reflecting deep disbelief.

William's face, previously marked with traces of pain, was now adorned with shock. "That bald man… he's too clever to hide in the shadows," William said, his voice trembling. His mind was again filled with insignificance, struck by the bitter reality that even the allies he once considered equals—had now left him far behind.

In front of Haikal Emanuel, Yehu's body was almost unrecognizable. Dozens of black spears pierced every part of his body, creating a horrifying sight. His blood soaked the ground, while the remaining parts of his body appeared like unrecognizable chunks of flesh. Moments ago, a cold system notification had announced Yehu's death.

Haikal just stared emotionlessly, his old face calm, as if what had just happened was nothing extraordinary.

With a simple gesture, Haikal deactivated his Hell Spear skill. The spears that had impaled Yehu's body slowly faded from the air, leaving the remaining chunks of flesh to fall to the ground with a sickening thud, like meat being pulled off steel skewers. The cold night wind swept through, carrying the stench of death with it.

"All the same," Haikal muttered softly, his gaze distant. "Their strength only reaches peak Tier-3..." The old man's thoughts drifted back to the previous battles, retracing the steps of the enemies he had already vanquished. None of them had been beyond Tier-3, and the group of weak Tier-2 and Tier-1 soldiers that had come along, as if rushing to their own deaths.

Haikal then turned to the side. There, a figure of a grim reaper floated—a fleshless skull draped in a long black robe. Its hollow eyes stared emotionlessly, only silence radiating from it. Haikal glanced at the figure with a slight smile on his lips.

"How do you feel? Was he strong enough?" Haikal asked, his voice flat, but full of mockery.

The grim reaper only let out a long sigh, a cold breeze echoing faintly around it. No clear words were spoken, but the slow movement of the skull was answer enough. Haikal smiled faintly.

"You're right," he muttered, nodding slightly, "Without a soul attack, he was indeed weak."

He then shifted his gaze around. The buildings that had once stood tall now lay like the remnants of old ruins, shattered. Most had been leveled to the ground, collapsing under the brutal assault. The once green and peaceful garden was now filled with rubble, the small pond in the distance littered with debris. Its water was murky and filthy, reflecting the gloomy gray sky above.

The asphalt road that had once been smooth was now cracked, fissures extending as far as the eye could see. The concrete defense towers, once sturdy, were strewn across the ground, silent witnesses to the destruction. Small shops, public buildings, none had escaped the sudden onslaught. Only the remnants of a world left powerless in the rubble remained.

"No wonder," Haikal said with a long sigh, his voice low and resonant. "A surprise attack... is always like this." The anger that simmered beneath the old man's calm exterior was hidden, burning in every memory he had of the foreign attackers. They did not deserve to live, and Haikal made sure each of their leaders suffered before death.

Finally, Haikal turned his gaze toward a group of American soldiers and William, standing stiff in the distance. Their eyes were fixed on him—faces filled with fear and horror, as if witnessing the true angel of death.