41. In the Name of Salvation (3)

Angron stared at the ugly alien before him, its build almost as tall and broad as his own, then stepped forward and brought his axe down straight at its head.

Crackle!

Lightning crackled, shaking the air. The alien's murky pupils suddenly shrank, and the massive staff in its hand, twisted like rotten wood, lifted with the same swift speed.

Clang—!

A tremendous clash of metal rang out. The ground shattered beneath the contest of their strength, and the soldiers' corpses were sent flying far away by the shockwave. Angron grinned, took a step forward, and the axe blade naturally slid across the surface of the staff, hooking it with the lower half of the axe. Then he put his strength into it with a savage yank.

Boom!

The alien stared at the scene in shock and fury. That tremendous noise had been the sound of its staff being snatched away and casually hurled to the ground, like thunder. In just a single exchange, it had lost its weapon.

How could this be?! Who in the world was this man?!

Yet what enraged it even more came next—Angron slowly lowered the Lightning Axe in his hand.

The boiling golden lightning that danced across it like magma died down, and the sharp axe head sank into the shattered ground. He raised both hands, empty, then beckoned to it.

At the sight, it let out a furious roar. Its face twisted savagely, the human features that remained completely overtaken by rage.

But Angron's expression was terrifyingly calm—the next second, the alien that had still been standing where it was charged at him, so fast that the air burst with explosive cracks.

Angron's gaze sharpened. He swung a backhanded punch, colliding with its right fist and sending up a massive wave of sound as