Return of the Youngest Son with SSS-Rank Talent

Chapter 109: That's your problem for breaking the eggs



With the attack of the dead-eating fish, the small sailboat was in dire straits, as it was also sinking after colliding with a rock.

People continued to die from the attack; soon after, the small sailboat was filled with blood and corpses.

With screams filling the air and night slowly falling, Kael dodged the dead fish as he calmly assessed the situation. The only way to survive was to reach the shore, but that also involved risk.

With the ship sinking by the minute and under attack from the dead fish, Kael took the option with the highest chance of survival.

He glanced at Michel, who understood immediately, and without a second thought, they jumped into the red waters of the River of Blood.

They opened their eyes underwater, and not everything they saw was red; above all, it was too murky to make out anything.

Using their hands to propel themselves forward, they emerged back to the surface, where the current had carried their bodies several meters away from the boat.

However, despite having escaped the danger of the dead fish, Kael and Michel's situation was not the best either.

From where they stood, they began to see several logs slowly approaching, and little by little, more appeared.

"What is that? It looks like it's coming toward us," said Michel, feeling the violent current dragging his body.

Kael turned his face toward where Michel was pointing, and his expression darkened. "Damn! We have to get to shore quickly."

Using the current as propulsion, he began to swim rapidly to avoid being overtaken by those "logs" Michel had mentioned because they weren't logs, but six-legged crocodiles.

It seemed as if this stretch of river was their territory.

As time passed and the sky grew darker, Kael's heart tightened, for he could no longer make out the approaching crocodiles; he could only hear the furious currents crashing against the rocks.

In addition, their strength and energy were being sapped by swimming so long without rest. The shore seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

They continued swimming against time and against the animals that were becoming more active at night.

From a hawk's eye view, two young men could be seen swimming desperately in the River of Blood, while a group of 'logs' drew ever closer.

Michel felt his body heavy, on the verge of collapse. The water burned his throat; he had just swallowed another accidental gulp. He turned his head and saw Kael in front of him, still advancing at high speed, though no longer with the same initial force.

It was obvious: even at rank 7, his body was still mundane. His endurance had its limits. But the shore... was already in sight.

Michel turned his head back reflexively. The boat was gone. In its place were only bodies floating, some torn apart, all mercilessly dragged along by the river.

If we had stayed... we would be just like them.

A spark ran through his chest. Fear, yes. But also euphoria.

If he hadn't followed Kael, he would never have had this experience. A real situation. Life or death. Pure.

Meanwhile, Kael swam on sheer willpower. He was in the lead, but his body was shaking with exhaustion. His arms were burning; his muscles threatened to tear. Every movement was torture. But he didn't stop.

I want the Divine Throne... and I'm going to be stopped by something as trivial as this?

Ridiculous. Unacceptable.

He gritted his teeth. Each stroke was a silent cry against weakness.

The shore was close. Just a little more. Just a little more.

He had to survive.

After swimming for almost ten minutes against the raging current, their feet finally touched an underwater rock formation. Shortly after, they emerged onto a wet and deserted beach.

Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, they began to run away from the river without looking back. But just then...

Crack.

A sharp crack broke the silence. The sound was so clear that they both heard it above the roar of their breathing.

Kael turned his head toward Michel and saw him rubbing his foot against the sand. Several whitish, fragmented shells were stuck to the sole of his shoe.

At the same time, the six-legged crocodiles that had been following them emerged from the river. Their eyes glowed bright red, lit up by an almost primitive fury.

Kael said nothing. With a precise movement, he opened one of his space rune rings and threw the coin sword toward Michel. He caught it instinctively, still frowning, not understanding.

Kael pointed his chin at the crocodiles approaching at high speed, blood bubbling in their jaws, muscles taut as steel cables.

"That's your problem for breaking the eggs," Kael said calmly, wringing the water from his clothes.

Michel turned calmly, the sword of coins firmly clutched in his hand. His steps were steady, but his shoulders bore the weight of accumulated exhaustion. He did not advance first. Not out of fear, but out of calculation. He still had strength left, but he would not waste it on worthless creatures.

The first six-legged crocodiles emerged from the mud, advancing with clumsy grunts and primitive hunger. They were just common wild beasts, without rank. Not a single Baron. Not a single Viscount.

Michel inhaled slowly, and his mana essence began to flow. He directed it precisely toward his dantian, transforming it into an aura. In the next instant, his body moved.

The sword danced. Each cut was swift, yet contained a polished elegance. It wasted no energy, only precision. One after another, the crocodiles fell, their bodies collapsing onto the damp earth without even understanding how they had been defeated.

Kael, indifferently wringing the water from his clothes, raised an eyebrow at the performance. He watched silently, evaluating.

Good body control. Not just talent, but discipline as well.

Michel was young, with S-rank talent. But it wasn't that which impressed Kael; it was the steadiness of his movements. The training he had received in the Abraham family was not superficial.

After finishing off all six-legged crocodiles, Michel saw a huge log rapidly rising onto the beach.

It was a mutated six-legged crocodile of the Baron rank.


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