Why must the devil be Defeated?

Chapter 113: I have really wronged you.
 

“Boom!”

When a dull thud, like thunder, suddenly erupted, a figure flew backward like a kite with its string cut, and fiercely smashed into the ground.

“Ah!”

Accompanied by a scream of agony, Magre lay there, a footprint shockingly visible on his face.

“Wow, and here I thought it was someone important. Turns out it’s just you, young master.”

With a sneer that wasn’t quite a smile, Shane’s voice rang out as he walked toward Magre, cradling a blushing and unconscious Merica in his arms.

Seeing this, Magre was fuming with rage.

“Get your filthy hands off her! Don’t you dare touch her!”

Furiously shouting, Magre forgot the pain in his body and charged toward Shane once again.

But then…

“Boom!”

“Ah!”

Another dull thud and a scream followed; Magre flew backward again, landing back where he started, another footprint marking his face telling the tale of what had just occurred.

“That really scared me.”

Shane patted his chest, pretending to be frightened, though his face was the picture of composure, mocking in its nonchalance. Without needing to say it, the two footprints on Magre’s face clearly revealed their origin.

“You… you…”

Angry and astonished, Magre pointed at Shane, seemingly unable to believe that he had been kicked away by Shane not once, but twice.

“Weren’t you just Level 10? Didn’t you lack even a single skill?”

Could someone like that really manage to kick him, a Level 38, flying twice in a row?

The answer was clearly no.

Shane, however, remained unfazed, even smiling mischievously at Magre.

“Sorry there, young master. I’ve accidentally risen quite a few levels recently, my strength has escalated rather quickly, and well, from that person, the magic tools I got aren’t just the sort with immense offensive power, but also enhancing magic items meant for personal use. If you thought I was easy to bully and couldn’t resist coming at me, then I can only offer you my apologies.”

Shane’s words were half genuine, half mocking, causing Magre’s face to twitch several times.

“So you’re only bold because of those magic tools?” Magre growled hatefully: “That’s not your own strength at all! If you have any dignity as an adventurer, put down those magic tools and duel with me!”

“Really?” Shane teased: “Then why don’t you drop all that advanced gear and come at me with your own strength, see what happens then.”

Without those advanced items, Magre’s abilities probably wouldn’t match those of the adventurers above Level 40.

Shane used this to taunt him, yet Magre didn’t feel ashamed; instead, his gaze intensified.

“I’ll get rid of my gear, will you abandon your magic tools?”

Magre stared intently at Shane.

At first taken aback, Shane quickly understood Magre’s intentions, and his face filled with even more jest.

“Sure!”

Shane readily agreed.

This made Magre’s eyes spark, and he immediately began to remove his advanced gear. Filled with rage, he made another charge at Shane.

Half a second later…

“Boom!”

“Ah!”

For the third time, the dull thud and agonized scream echoed through the moonlit night.

Magre’s burning rage had earned him a third footprint on his face and sent him tumbling back to his original spot, wailing in pain.

“You… you… you didn’t keep your word…!”

Magre trembled as he pointed at Shane, his voice containing not only anger but also a bitter sadness that could almost invoke pity and grievance.

Shane stood still in his original spot, holding Merica with a look of complete innocence on his face.

“Why am I suddenly not keeping my word?” Shane asked, seemingly puzzled, “This time, I didn’t use any Magic Tools.”

“You… you’re lying!” Magre roared in extreme anger, yelling at Shane, “Without using Magic Tools, how could you possibly have sent me flying so easily?”

“Why couldn’t I?” Shane blinked and replied, “Didn’t I just say it? I ‘accidentally’ leveled up a bunch recently and my strength improved a bit too quickly.”

In other words, Shane wanted to say that he had “accidentally” become stronger than Magre.

Of course, that was the truth.

By now, Shane had already reached Level 24, and even without using the Holy Sword or Magic, or even Skills like Magical Sword and Extreme Transformation, he was by no means inferior to Magre.

It’s important to know that when Shane leveled up, his abilities grew to their maximum values.

Under such circumstances, even without using any tricks, Shane’s own abilities were already a bit above those of Magre, who was at Level 38.

Furthermore, with Skills like Military God and Hand-to-Hand Combat which he had maxed out to assist him, not to mention Magre at Level 38, even Beren at Level 68 might not fare well against Shane—that remained an unknown.

Given this, Shane could easily suppress Magre even in his normal state, without any inferiority at all.

But naturally, Magre was unaware of these facts, and he thought Shane was just playing him. Humiliation and rage surged tumultuously in his heart.

“Do you think you’re the only one with Magic Tools?” Magre snapped, consumed by fury.

In a fit of anger, Magre took out a tattered sheepskin parchment and aimed it at Shane.

“〖Come on! Put some effort into it!〗”

Like that, Magre recklessly began chanting the Spell of the “Magic Tool.”

“Pfft!”

Shane burst out laughing, then quickly composed himself.

“Since you insist, I’ll oblige,” he said.

No sooner had his words fallen than Shane, like a ghostly apparition, darted in front of Magre and delivered a ferocious kick right into his face.

“Boom!”

“Ahh!”

That was the fourth muffled impact and scream.

Magre collapsed on the ground, wailing in pain, yet still persistently chanting.

“〖Come on! Put some effort into it!〗”

“〖Come on! Put some effort into it!〗”

“〖Come on! Put some effort into it!〗”

The young Master of the Noble Family had thrown all caution to the wind, or rather, he treated the “Magic Tool” in his hand as his last straw, chanting the spell over and over again.

“Truly worthy of being the young Master, so fearlessly valiant. I’m almost moved. So as you wish, I’ll do it with a little ‘more effort’ then.”

Struggling to suppress his laughter, Shane showed no mercy, relentlessly kicking Magre, who lay on the ground, time and time again, causing him to howl in pain.

By the time Magre’s face was swollen and bruised, he was almost in tears.

“Why isn’t it activating? I’ve been shouting loud enough!”

Magre was now truly crying.

The poor, pampered 16-year-old had been bullied to such an extent, probably leaving behind another psychological scar.

“Stop hitting me! Stop it!” Magre cried out between sobs, “You dare to do this to me, my family will definitely not let you off!”

“Is that so? I’m really scared!” Shane sarcastically remarked, continuing to kick without pause and added with feigned calm, “Just remember, young Master, it was you who attacked us out of the blue. I’m sure, if President Riley hears about this, she will defend my cause. You see, even Merica has been frightened into a faint by you. That’s really too bad for you.”

“Huh?” Magre was dumbfounded.

How… how did it turn out that she was fainted because of me?

As Magre thought, unaware, he had crossed paths with a Hero whose skill at Blame-shifting had already reached its peak.

If he didn’t manage to trick him to death, then Shane wouldn’t deserve the surname “Shane.” (Ironically)