"Pain?"
A hoarse, fractured word, as if squeezed forcibly from a rusted iron pipe, exploded in the dead-silent Colosseum with extreme mockery.
Angron slowly raised his head, which was covered in hideous scars and metal conduits.
He looked at the black-robed woman before him; those scarlet eyes, which had been washed by tears during a brief moment of calm, were once again filled with a surging, familiar rage.
He laughed.
It was a twisted smile, more sorrowful than a wail.
"Pain?" He repeated it again, his voice suddenly rising into a deafening roar, "Pain is my everything! It is my breath, my sustenance, my only friend!"
"What do you know!?"
"Boom—!"
The sand beneath his feet suddenly sank due to this reignited, even more violent aura, and the cracked patterns spread wildly in all directions like a spiderweb.
The twin chainaxes, which he had just rested against the psychic shield, were raised high once again.
This time, there was no rotation, no roaring from the axe blades, only a tangible, pure physical force, as if it would split this filthy sky wide open.
He would completely obliterate this woman who dared to profane his "faith" with "pity."
Leticia, standing at the center of the storm, did not retreat.
She just shook her head slightly and calmly.
"No."
Her voice remained soft, yet like a drop of the purest spring water falling into a pot of boiling oil, it instantly provoked an even more violent reaction.
"You still possess loyalty and sorrow."
Leticia's gaze bypassed the hideous giant axe and looked straight into Angron's eyes, which were scorched by rage.
"They are just covered by pain. Like gold buried under thick volcanic ash."
This sentence was like an invisible, sharp poisonous needle that precisely pierced all the defenses Angron had built up with centuries of rage, stabbing fiercely into the deepest part of his soul, into that softness he dared not touch again.
Loyalty...
Sorrow...
That was the oath sworn together with his brothers and Sisters on the snowy mountains of Nukeria.
Those were the tears shed before the Golden Tyrant's fleet, watching helplessly as his family was slaughtered.
These things... he thought he had long forgotten them.
He thought he had long since ground them, along with his heart, into the filthiest blood and mud through endless slaughter.
But this woman... how did she know?
"I do not need your pity—!!!"
Angron's reason was completely incinerated by this sudden, excruciating pain of having his scars forcibly ripped open.
His brain, his nerves, every cell in his body, under the will of the Butcher's Nails, issued the same insane command.
Kill her!
Kill this woman who dared to pry into your soul!
"Roarghhhhh—!!!"
There were no more words, only the most primal roar of a beast.
The hideous giant axe, capable of splitting the hull of a starship, stirred up a storm of death, carrying a sharp whistle that tore through the air, and once again, mercilessly, struck down toward Leticia's slender head!
The scent of death, like an invisible wall, crashed down.
Terrania, standing in the distance, had a pale face, her golden eyes filled with extreme fear. Her small hands tightly covered her mouth to keep a scream from breaking through her throat.
The mortal veteran, who had just been saved from the brink of death, trembled like a sieve, and the glimmer of Hope that had just risen was instantly crushed by this earth-shattering power.
However, Leticia still did not move.
She did not even raise that faint blue psychic shield again.
She just slowly raised her right hand, palm upward, facing that deadly storm of death.
"What is she trying to do?"
A final, incomprehensible confusion flashed through Angron's chaotic mind.
Then, he saw it.
A glimmer of light.
A soft, non-aggressive, emerald-green light, like the first tender shoot emerging from frozen soil in early spring.
The light quietly lit up in the woman's fair, slender palm.
It was not dazzling, nor was it scorching.
It just sat there quietly, emanating an aura that Angron had never experienced, yet seemed to have craved in the depths of his soul for tens of thousands of years.
It was pure, unadulterated, majestic... Vitality.
It was the first handful of clear spring water melting at the peak of a snowy mountain.
It was the fragrance of grass and soil mixed together in the forest after the rain.
It was the steady, peaceful breathing of a newborn baby.
It was... calm.
"I cannot extract it."
Leticia's voice clearly penetrated the roar of the giant axe splitting the air, resounding through the entire Colosseum like the decree of a deity.
"But I can..."
Her voice paused, and in her pure black eyes flowed endless compassion and determination.
"...let it subside."
The moment the words fell.
The cluster of emerald-green light suddenly surged.
It was no longer just a tender shoot, but a gentle, vast ocean of green that could submerge the entire world.
This aura was the exact opposite extreme to the destructive energy of the Butcher's Nails, which was filled with hatred and pain.
One was creation.
One was destruction.
One was rebirth.
One was death.
Angron's attack stopped, less than a foot above Leticia's head, once again... abruptly, as if violating all laws of physics.
His massive body froze in mid-air as if cast under a binding spell.
He could feel it.
He could clearly feel the Butcher's Nails in his mind, which had become one with him and tortured him for centuries, screaming... frantically and fearfully.
It was an instinctive fear originating from a natural predator.
It was like darkness encountering the dawn.
It was like death encountering rebirth.
Angron's attack stalled.
But Leticia's footsteps did not.
Facing the hideous axe blade that was stalled above her head and still emanating a terrifying killing intent, she took a decisive step forward.
This step brought her within inches of the beast that had fallen into a stupor.
She reached out with the hand emitting a soft green light, resolutely and gently, toward his forehead, which was covered in hideous metal conduits and twisted scars.
Angron's body began to tremble violently.
Every muscle in his body was spasming uncontrollably.
His soul, torn between two extreme forces, fell into an unprecedented war.
"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!"
The will of the Butcher's Nails turned into the most malicious curse in his mind, capable of burning through his soul.
This was its survival instinct; it would never allow that power representing "calm" to touch it.
But...
Deepest within Angron's soul, the seed named "Hope," which had been buried by volcanic ash for centuries, was awakened by that green aura.
It was longing.
It was frantically longing for that calm, longing for that peace.
Like a traveler who had trekked in the desert for centuries and was about to die of thirst, seeing the clear oasis in the distance.
Attack, or accept?
Destruction, or rebirth?
Rage, or calm?
This contradiction turned into the cruelest torture device, tearing Angron's spirit and body to pieces.
He was unable to move.
He could only watch helplessly as that hand...
That hand, fair and slender, formed the starkest contrast with his body, which was full of scars and bloodstains.
That hand, which represented "Hope" and also represented "ending."
In his scarlet, bloodshot eyes, filled with pain and bewilderment, it came... closer...
Terrania, on the sidelines, was so nervous she almost forgot to breathe.
The mortal veteran was completely stunned; he gaped, watching this scene that resembled a mythical epic, his mind blank.
Time seemed to freeze completely at this moment.
Finally.
Under Angron's violently trembling, bewildered gaze.
Leticia's fair, soft palm, radiating endless Vitality, without a shred of hesitation, gently, yet with absolute firmness...
Touched it.
Touched the cold, hideous source on his forehead that symbolized his lifelong pain and rage—
Butcher's Nails.
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