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Lord of Entertainment C374 Payback
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 16:18:15 +0000 UTC(3rd Person POV)
Sylwen struggled to stay upright. Her limbs trembled, her breath ragged. Blood trailed from the corner of her lips.
Across from her, Viper loomed—his aura heavier than ever, his presence menacing and absolute.
“Hehehe…” Viper’s voice was low, confident, cruel. “After crushing that artifact, I’ve surpassed the limits of a Supreme Mortal. I’ve touched the threshold of a Demigod. You don’t stand a chance, Lala.”
He wasn’t boasting. The ground itself pulsed beneath his feet. His power felt like a storm trying to rip apart reality.
Sylwen took a deep breath, steadying herself. But her ribs ached. Her organs throbbed. One blow had nearly broken her from the inside out.
Viper raised his hand toward her—and then, to her horror, it stretched. The limb extended unnaturally, like a serpent coiling through the air, before wrapping tightly around her neck from ten meters away.
Her eyes widened as she was lifted off the ground, dragged toward him in one swift snap.
His arm retracted, returning to normal—but Sylwen now dangled in his grasp, his hand locked around her throat.
“You can’t run anymore,” he said calmly, almost amused. “My power far exceeds yours now.”
Sylwen clawed at his wrist, gasping as the grip tightened. ‘Is this it? Is this really how I die?’
Her body weakened. Her mind clouded. ‘I can’t… match him. He’s beyond me now. A true monster…’
Her eyes drifted to Firfel and Vivienne in the distance. Both were still fighting, but barely holding on—cornered, exhausted.
“Big sister!!” Firfel’s desperate cry rang out.
The voice pierced through the haze.
Sylwen’s eyes flickered—light returning to them. Her will, dim moments ago, now burned faintly.
She struggled again, but Viper’s grip was unrelenting.
“No need to resist,” he whispered. “Close your eyes. Accept it. It’ll all be over soon.”
He wasn’t in a hurry. If anything, he enjoyed watching her suffer.
“This,” he hissed, his forked tongue sliding from his lips, “is the fate of traitors.”
His other hand rose.
In his palm—a small, glowing object.
Sylwen’s heart dropped.
‘The Soul Extracting Beads…’
Beads that tore the soul into fragments. That imprisoned the spirit, preventing even the mercy of death. Not even a ghost she could become. Only... eternal imprisonment.
“You recognize it,” Viper said, grinning beneath his mask. “Good. That fear in your eyes… I can taste it.”
He leaned in and licked the back of her hand slowly, disturbingly. “Mmm. Desperation. With a hint of despair. Delicious.”
“Let… me… go…” Sylwen growled, forcing her Force to surge.
But it was no use.
Her magic was sealed—some spell or artifact was suppressing it. And her pure Force alone wasn’t enough. Not against a foe at the edge of demi-god.
‘Even if I had my magic… I still wouldn’t be strong enough…’
Viper’s eyes gleamed with madness as the Soul Beads began to glow.
“This is the end, Lala. But don’t worry—we won’t let your death go to waste. The Organization will extract your memories. We’ll find out who’s been helping you… and then we’ll kill them too.”
Sylwen’s vision blurred.
She felt herself slipping.
Sylwen was losing hope. Her strength was failing, her vision dimming.
‘Firfel… I’m sorry… I dragged you into this…’
A single tear escaped the corner of her eye.
Then, as if something inside her broke, the tears came in torrents—streaming down her cheeks, her face soaked in sorrow and helplessness.
“Oh? You’re crying now?” Viper sneered, delighting in her suffering. “Good! Yes… cry for me!”
His laughter turned manic.
“Cry as much as you want! I want to see it! That fear! That despair! GIVE ME EVERYTHING!”
He raised her higher, gripping her chin, staring into her tear-streaked face.
“Ahh… it’s beautiful. That helplessness. That pain. That look—it feeds me!”
He was reveling in it. Like a monster born for cruelty. A perfect portrait of a high-ranking Skull operative. The infamous Viper.
His body trembled—not with rage or fear—but with euphoria.
“HAHAHAHA—!”
Eyes closed, he laughed with abandon.
And that was his mistake.
As Viper bathed in the ecstasy of domination, something subtle shifted.
The air around the arm holding Sylwen shimmered—just slightly. A thin, almost invisible line traced across it.
He didn’t notice.
He could still feel the arm. Still control the fingers. Still savor the weight of Sylwen dangling from his grasp.
But then—his connection vanished.
The arm detached cleanly.
Sylwen fell.
The severed limb dropped with her—flesh flopping unnaturally—and landed with a wet smack beside her in a pool of blood.
Viper was still mid-laugh.
“HAHA—ha…?”
His laughter faltered.
Then his eyes opened—and horror dawned.
“AHHHHHHH!!!”
A geyser of blood erupted from the stump where his arm used to be. He staggered back, clutching it with his remaining hand, panic washing over his smug expression.
“No… no no no—WHO!?”
His eyes darted around wildly. Sylwen was gone.
Only his arm remained, severed and twitching on the ground.
“Who did this!?” he roared, veins bulging across his neck, eyes red with rage and fear. “Show yourself, coward!”
For a moment, silence lingered.
Then, from the shadows, came a voice—calm, cold, and sharp enough to slice through the tension like a blade.
“You sound scared. What happened to all that pride?”
Viper spun, eyes frantic. “Who are you!?”
A tap on the shoulder.
“Looking for me?”
His heart stopped.
He leapt backward, creating distance—and finally saw the man who touched him.
A tall figure in a dark suit and crimson tie. Poised. Elegant. Demonic red horns barely poking through his sleek black hair. A refined air of authority surrounded him like armor.
Golden eyes, glowing faintly with scarlet fire. A face sculpted like a noble statue. Calm. Beautiful. Dangerous.
Viper’s breath caught in his throat.
That face…
It was unmistakable.
“Arthur… Pendragon…” he muttered.
The famed director. The owner of Hellfire Studio.
He was the demon who made blockbusters and flipped the world on its heels.
Viper never imagined he would stand face to face with this famous figure. Not like this.
“That filmmaker…” Viper muttered, wary now. He used to think Arthur was just a flashy name behind a camera. But the man in front of him felt different. Dangerous.
“Glad you remember me,” Arthur said with a faint smile. It was both warm and cold, an unsettling mix that didn’t belong on the face of a man so composed.
Then his eyes sharpened.
“Because you won’t get the chance to forget.”
Viper scoffed, trying to mask his unease. “You think you can scare me with your fancy words? Save the drama for your movies.” He surged forward, launching his remaining arm at Arthur like a whip.
Though he had lost one hand, he was far from helpless.
His arm stretched forward, morphing mid-strike. The fingers curled open like the jaws of a serpent, fangs glinting. His limb had become a snake, striking straight for Arthur’s throat.
Arthur didn’t even flinch.
Viper grinned to himself. This was it. One bite, and the venom would be inside. Through the neck, it would reach Arthur’s brain in seconds.
He felt his hand nearly brush the skin. Victory was his.
Then it stopped.
His smile faded.
“What...?”
His hand froze in mid-air. Inch by inch, the sensation in his arm vanished. The connection severed.
He looked down.
His eyes went wide as he saw it happen. His arm was detaching itself. Blood spurted from the base as the limb slid away from his shoulder and fell with a thud.
“Ah!” he screamed.
Staggering backward, he stumbled and collapsed onto the ground. He hit the cobblestone hard, landing on his rear. His breath hitched. His body trembled. Pain exploded across his shoulder.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
He stared at Arthur like he was staring at a monster.
“Are you crying?” Arthur asked, tilting his head slightly. His voice carried concern, but it was the kind that mocked rather than comforted.
Viper writhed on the ground, clutching the stump where his arm had been. He scrambled backward, dragging himself with his feet, staring at Arthur like he had seen a devil. “G-Go away… stay back!”
Arthur shook his head slowly, stepping toward him without haste.
“What happened to all that bravado?” He lifted a hand and made a subtle slicing motion in the air.
Viper's mask split cleanly down the middle. It cracked, then crumbled off his face.
The reveal was grotesque.
His brows were fused into one thick ridge. His nose was barely a slit, shaped like a serpent’s, and his mouth curled unnaturally at the corners with faint scale-like lines along his cheeks.
A snake’s features twisted into a human mold. But uglier. Cruder. Disturbing.
His face contorted in pain and fear.
Arthur crouched in front of him, calm as ever.
“So this is the face of the man who tortured my people.”
Viper tried to crawl away, dragging his broken body over the cobblestone. He trembled with every inch.
Arthur continued speaking, voice as steady as ice.
“You blocked telepathy. Jammed radio signals. Cut every telephone line in the area.”
He glanced around, then back at Viper. “You really thought it through. No interference from police. No outside help.”
Arthur smiled faintly. “I should thank you. You made my job much easier.”
Viper’s entire body shook. His eyes widened in sheer panic. Then it happened.
He wet himself.
---
Meanwhile, not far away, Firfel and Vivienne were barely standing. Their bodies ached, clothes torn, and breaths ragged. The operatives from the Skull Organization were relentless.
Firfel’s eyes searched desperately for Sylwen. She wanted to help her sister—but she could hardly hold herself up.
Just as despair began to take root, a scream tore through the air.
Firfel turned.
In the distance, Viper was howling in agony. Sylwen was nowhere in sight.
‘What happened?’ she thought, stunned. But there was no time to dwell—another wave of operatives surged at them.
Just then, several cloaked figures appeared out of nowhere.
Firfel tensed. ‘More enemies?’
But instead of attacking, the figures moved in and fought off the Skull operatives with clean, efficient strikes.
“We’re allies, Miss Firfel!” one of them shouted. “We’re here to assist you!”
Firfel blinked in surprise. She and Vivienne exchanged confused glances.
“If you’re with us,” Firfel said, catching her breath, “then please—help my sister Sylwen!”
“There’s no need,” another cloaked man replied, calmly. “Lady Sylwen is safe.”
Both Firfel and Vivienne turned sharply toward the source of the earlier scream.
And there they saw it.
Arthur Pendragon, standing tall, his suit unruffled.
Before him, the mighty Viper was on the ground. Bleeding. Broken. Both arms lost.
The sight left them stunned.
The monster who had seemed unstoppable just moments ago was now groveling at the feet of the man they both knew well.
“Arthur...” Firfel whispered, her voice full of awe, her heart pounding.
Vivienne watched him intently, then turned to Firfel with a knowing smirk. “Your lover’s full of surprises. I figured he was hiding something... but this?” She shook her head. “I didn’t expect this level of power.”
Firfel could only nod, her eyes fixed on Arthur—mesmerized, speechless.
