Chapter 544 The Grand Hunt
Leonard had attempted to ambush the wounded Natasha, hoping to steal her essence.
He never anticipated that even in her damaged state, Natasha remained terrifyingly powerful.
With a single strike, she obliterated him.
This display shocked the onlookers. Even an injured Natasha was beyond their capacity to challenge.
They weren't Steven. They lacked his vast logistical supplies and his reality-defying spatial abilities.
Natasha couldn't defeat Steven, but she could slaughter them as easily as crushing ants.
After dispatching Leonard, she quickly vanished into the distance.
Steven pursued unhurriedly.
He cast a casual glance at the survivors hiding amid the ruins. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said with a slight smile, "Natasha is gravely wounded. If you wish to claim her essence... by all means, try."
His tone was light, but everyone heard the mockery beneath it. He seemed to be ridiculing Leonard's foolish overconfidence.
Even wounded, a Level 5 Psychic remained beyond the reach of ordinary abilities.
Though none had acted, similar thoughts had crossed all their minds.
They remained silent, recognizing they had no business competing with Steven.
After surveying them, Steven gave a faint smile. The next moment, he activated a spatial jump to follow Natasha's escape route.
He felt no urgency whatsoever.
Time was now his ally.
Natasha couldn't kill him, and he couldn't immediately kill her.
But they were both human. Both needed rest, food, and sleep.
Natasha was now blind. Without sleep or sustenance, even the mightiest Psychic would eventually falter.
Meanwhile, Steven carried extensive supplies.
He even had military-grade stimulants to maintain his alertness.
From this point forward, it would be a test of endurance.
Steven and Natasha vanished from the battlefield, one pursuing the other.
The remaining survivors finally exhaled, cautiously emerging from their hiding places.
Theron stared in the direction Steven had departed. "In the end, he emerges as the ultimate victor," he muttered.
If Steven absorbed Natasha's essence, he might ascend directly to Level 5.
He would become Silvercrest District's most powerful Psychic.
When that happened, they would all exist in his shadow.
Theron scratched his head. "Otha once talked about recruiting him. Now if he joined us, he'd probably become our leader."
The demolitions expert, Rolf, approached Theron. "Don't you feel like everything was part of his design?" he asked gravely.
"We were all just pieces on his chessboard. He used us."
Theron looked at Rolf and offered a resigned smile.
"Used us? Perhaps, but what choice did we have?"
"He simply outplayed everyone."
Theron's perspective was pragmatic. Though manipulated, as long as the outcome served their original purpose, he harbored no resentment toward Steven. Rather, he felt gratitude.
Without Steven, they wouldn't have uncovered the Snowfall Cult's secrets. Beyond failing their mission, they would have left a catastrophic threat not just for Silvercrest District, but potentially the entire Astralium Kingdom.
"Though Otha's loss is regrettable. Perhaps he could have lived longer."
Rolf's eyes reflected somber grief.
Otha had been their spiritual pillar. His death devastated every team member.
Theron remained silent as everyone sank into contemplation.
Could they blame Steven?
Without his intervention, Otha might have survived longer.
But everyone knew his internal injuries were already beyond containment.
Without Steven, he would have died soon anyway.
Dying in battle, unleashing his final brilliance—perhaps that wasn't the worst fate for him.
Meanwhile, Natasha continued her desperate flight.
It wasn't that she couldn't fight Steven—she simply couldn't outlast him.
Blind and suffering severe supernatural backlash, she desperately needed sanctuary to recover.
She possessed dozens of abilities, including multiple healing powers.
Given enough time, she believed she could find a way to heal herself.
But behind her, a pair of eyes watched relentlessly, denying her even a moment's respite.
Though she couldn't see him, Natasha knew Steven remained ever-present.
He circled like a vulture, waiting for her demise.
Steven felt no urgency. His patience was pathological.
He maintained a precise distance, silently observing Natasha.
Whenever she attempted to rest, he fired a Mutant Bullet, forcing her to respond.
If rage drove her to confront him, he would retreat without hesitation.
Each exchange worsened her internal injuries.
Meanwhile, Steven would find a secluded spot to consume food from his extradimensional space.
He had injected himself with stimulants—military-grade compounds that not only enhanced physical capability but kept his nervous system hyperactive. He could function without sleep for three days and nights.
He could afford this war of attrition.
This grand hunt would ultimately yield an immense prize: the essence of a Level 5 Psychic—the concentrated power of dozens of Psychics distilled into one source.
Natasha staggered through the snowstorm, continuing her desperate flight.
She had lost all sense of direction. Her eyes had turned completely gray-white, utterly blind.
Through the haze, she could only flee by instinct.
By the second day, her instincts led her to a department store buried in snow!
But just as she was about to enter and search for food to replenish her strength, a precisely aimed rocket struck the building, incinerating all potential supplies.
Natasha had grown numb to persecution, but after a day without food, this devastation nearly broke her spirit.
She turned, her blank eyes "looking" toward the distance.
Steven stood atop a small hill, rocket launcher perched on his shoulder. He smiled as he watched, a wisp of smoke rising from the barrel—the scent of despair.
Natasha's face remained expressionless. She raised her hand, unleashing a violent snowstorm that seemed powerful enough to destroy the entire hill.
But no matter how furiously the tempest raged, it couldn't approach Steven.
Before him, two massive Dimension Doors formed a triangular shield.
"Still refusing to surrender?" Steven asked softly.
"Everyone around you is dead."
"Your parents, Neil, the tens of thousands of Snowfall Cult followers you deceived—all gone. Who's left to love you?"
"Even with all your power, you remain utterly alone."
"Everyone died because of you. Don't you feel even a flicker of remorse?"
"The one who truly deserves death... is you."
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