Returning to the Mysterious Era-Chapter 352 - The Reaper’s Last Form

"Too slow, your movements are too slow..." A voice suddenly echoed from far behind Amos.

He spun around abruptly, his hands fluttering through the air like dancing butterflies. Instantly, nearly a hundred metallic threads split into two groups, intertwining to form two slender, silver whips that cracked the air.

The metallic whips scraped two winding trails dozens of meters long on the ground, striking heavily at the area where the voice originated.

Boom!

Three or four ornamental trees were severed in half, along with an innocent black streetlamp. All spun away, either embedding into the ground or tumbling over the wall.

"Not enough! You're stronger than this! Holding back? Let me help you!" A drifting voice in mid-air seemed to come from everywhere. From the front, then the back.

Screech!!!

Suddenly, a piercing screech of a bird of prey tore through the sky. In the corner of Amos's left eye, a red glow like erupting magma enveloped a powerful fist. It was terrifyingly intimidating!

With a whoosh, it shattered the air, heading straight for his head.

Zing zing zing!

Amos clenched his hands tightly before his chest, and all the metallic threads vibrated, pulled back by a tremendous force. The ground shattered, tree trunks snapped, streetlamps toppled. Hundreds of metallic threads, like swallows returning home, wove into a dense iron net before him, layer upon layer.

The fist, carrying a burst of sparks, struck fiercely against it.

A teeth-grinding metallic sound echoed throughout the area, and many buildings showed dense radial cracks. It turned out Amos's thrown threads had wrapped around every corner, allowing him to channel the force.

The force that Amos would have had to bear was dispersed into the surroundings. It was a clever integration of his own skills, showcasing immense combat wisdom, and he executed it with great finesse, not suffering a single wound.

The force was completely channeled into the walls, buildings, and ground.

"What brute force!" Amos said in exasperation.

Standing half a meter behind the metal net, Amos had blocked Cassius's tricky punch but showed no sign of joy or contempt. His gaze fell on the slightly deformed Mist Threads, his eyes narrowing cautiously. These were made of special metals; alloy threads forged through secret techniques. Even a fully loaded truck crashing at full speed couldn't damage them.

The result would be the truck sliced in half by the threads due to its own inertia. But now, the Mist Threads were deformed. The terrifying amount of force required was self-evident. In fact, one could tell from the surroundings.

When Cassius threw that punch, half the neighborhood shook. The ground, walls, and buildings all had fine cracks. Furthermore, more than a dozen ornamental trees were forcibly torn apart by the threads.

Facing such an opponent, just the first form wasn't enough!

He took a step forward, his black leather boots lightly touching the ground. His index finger pointed before his chest with a dozen silver metallic threads entwined, carrying some kind of mysterious power. "As you wish!"

Ding ding ding ding!

From the surface of his gloves, threads sprang out, joining the existing Mist Threads. With so many, they burst forth all at once, like a blossoming flower.

A silver flower spun around Amos as its center.

The metallic threads multiplied wildly—double, triple... Finally, they reached ten times the original amount!

The threads increased from nearly a hundred to over nine hundred.

At the center, Amos, who originally looked like an adorable thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy, had grown up. His facial contours and features were chiseled, eyes sharp, and his nose as high and straight as an eagle's beak.

He slowly spread his arms, revealing a tall and straight posture. Agile and strong, he appeared as a young man in his twenties. His long black hair was tied into a ponytail with a metallic thread.

Snap!

A cigarette popped out from his pocket, spinning mid-air for a couple of seconds before Amos caught it between his lips. Two silver sparks flashed across the tip, and a quick friction ignited a flame instantly.

Wisps of smoke obscured the young butler's face.

In the distance, Cassius crossed his arms, watching Amos's form with keen interest. He knew that Amos's personality changed with each age form.

In his youthful form, Amos was evidently quite flamboyant. He exuded an air of arrogant disregard.

Moreover, he had nearly a thousand threads on him. From his interactions during his time-travel, Cassius knew that Amos practiced the Secret Technique called "Violent Storm's Three Limits." The first limit, Mist, allowed control of one metallic thread imbued with cutting power. The second limit, Steel, allowed control of a hundred threads with cutting and piercing power. The third limit, Ultimate, allowed control of a thousand threads, capable of cutting, piercing, and annihilating power.

Amos was now at the peak of the second limit, Steel, with over nine hundred threads—just shy of a thousand.

Cassius recalled during his time-travel, Amos was also at the second limit but had just entered it, controlling only around two hundred threads. Clearly, he had progressed over the decades.

In fact, Cassius felt there was yet more. Though the Amos before him was formidable, it wasn't enough to make him feel threatened. He was looking for a danger that could truly threaten his life.

Hence, Amos was still holding back!

"Still hiding your skills? Then I'll have to force you!" Cassius slowly raised his hands at his sides, fists clenched but his index fingers extended, lightly flicking through the air.

On his left, a restrained and condensed purple glow. On his right, a wild and rampant fiery red line.

Two entirely different auras appeared on either side of him. Though they should have clashed, they inexplicably coexisted harmoniously.

"Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist!" Cassius enunciated the name of the technique word by word.

It was as if two people overlapped at this moment.

Hiss! Screech!

The hiss of a snake and the screech of a bird exploded simultaneously in the ears.

A figure shot out wildly like a cannonball, heading straight for Amos. The metallic threads behind Amos, fanning out like a peacock's tail, whistled as they smashed forward.

They transformed into iron nets, steel hammers, long swords, giant hands—all colliding madly with Cassius.

At this moment, Cassius became a pure combat machine. Every joint in his body moved frantically, each part turning into a weapon. Punches, elbows strikes, knee strikes, whip-like kicks...

He seemed to have eight arms and eight legs for combat, firmly blocking the ferocious attacks of metallic threads, even pressing forward relentlessly.

Death's Fang Force and Reverberating force enveloped every attacking limb, colliding and neutralizing the cutting power of the Mist Threads. Each clash sparked fireworks.

At a glance, it was like forging weapons. Bursts of sparks flew, brilliant yet dangerous.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, two or three cars were parked in the shadows. Five or six young people stared intently at the battle's center.

"Whoa, is this what top-tier combat looks like?" A freckled young man looked dazed.

"Mister Reaper has gotten serious! To force the head butler to nearly go all out—no wonder he's a core member of the Gate organization. I recall that name—is it Jilan?" A pretty-faced girl covered her mouth, her eyes wide with amazement. She was nearly dazzled by the dizzying combat.

"By the time this fight ends, half the neighborhood might be demolished. Good thing the butler had us evacuate people in advance..." As a chubby, round-faced white-haired boy finished speaking, a massive object flew over, crashing heavily onto the ground hundreds of meters away and shattering. It was half a rooftop!

Red tiles scattered with a clatter as debris struck the car hood, leaving a small dent.

"Ev-everyone... I think we're not very safe here. Maybe we should... retreat completely outside the neighborhood..." Immediately, these headquarters agents of the Black Ops Agency scurried away.

They weren't permanent staff but held positions similar to international police, assisting the headquarters in tracking dangerous forces or individuals, occasionally accompanying real experts of the Black Ops Agency to help wrap up hunts.

As for combat, they generally didn't participate.

Elsewhere, the fierce battle continued.

In the nearly demolished center of the street, two figures tangled and struck wildly. Limbs and weapons collided, producing a string of firecrackers exploding in the air.

Screech!

After a roar, Amos yanked his threads and was sent flying backward. He spun mid-air and landed unsteadily.

Unknowingly, his white gloves were stained with blood, revealing streaks of red marks. The Mist Threads had reached their limit in channeling force. Before he could direct it into the surroundings, some had already impacted his body, causing Amos's hands to sustain some injury.

If he continued fighting, his hands might be worn down by the threads, cutting down to his bones and losing his combat ability.

Amos stood silently under the moonlight. The person who held the upper hand didn't continue to attack. He lowered his eyelids, seemingly understanding the true intent behind his opponent's sparring.

"You want me to go all out? Then as you wish..." Normally, Amos wouldn't enter his second or third form, as it would push his body into an overloaded state, inevitably causing physical harm. This was especially so when he goes all out in his third form.

At that moment, Amos would become the true Grim Reaper. However, in reality, his already aged body would be even more burdened. Each use could pose significant risks. He might even die from exhaustion if the battle prolonged.

However, for some reason, though he could choose to burst briefly and then retreat to minimize the cost, the challenge from Cassius ignited a desire to fight. He wanted to defend the dignity of the Reaper once more.

Hiss hiss hiss hiss...

Metallic threads slowly scraped the ground.

Amos's figure hunched over, transforming from a tall and handsome young man into an elderly figure. His face was full of wrinkles, hair white, and his body thin. Yet, his eyes were as sharp as stars, containing a soul-piercing darkness.

His movements slowed, joints stiffened, and posture distorted. The way he swung his arms to manipulate the threads was no longer forceful like in his youth but became slow and gentle tugs.

It was as if he was elegantly plucking the strings of a harp. The performer slightly raised his head and glanced at Cassius.

At that moment, Cassius's hairs stood on end, goosebumps rising on his back. He felt that initial hidden sense of threat resurface—an extreme sharpness!

Cassius seemed to hear the wind gently singing a crisp and pleasant sound. Looking again, it wasn't the wind at all! It was clearly thousands of metallic threads tracing ripples in all directions, softly undulating with the wind.

There was no killing intent when he made his move, yet it was extremely dangerous!

Mist never leaves the wind. Hence, Mist Threads could also be called Wind Threads!

Rumble!

Looking up, it seemed as if a metallic waterfall was roaring down from the sky, obscuring the stars and covering the moon.

The air rapidly retreated, creating spreading white misty sensations, as if it was disintegrated by a terrifying annihilation.

Seeing this, Cassius finally burst into hearty laughter. The purple, red, and black flowing air around him transformed into a roaring pillar of fire soaring into the sky!

Instantly, it dyed the sky with hundred-meter-high brilliant colors. He raised his fists, one up and one down, forming the shape of a bird's beak.

Intense red light radiated like the sun.

"Southern Dipper Red Falcon Fist, ultimate secret move!"

Behind Cassius, from the expanding red mist, a colossal creature emerged. A massive head of a bird of prey with its beak wide open swallowed Cassius whole.

"Blood Vulture's Beak!!!"