Chapter 2628 Wicked ... "Control yourselves!" a voice barked. Compared to the Nomads who were usually quite tall, lanky, and willowy, this man was a tank. He wore nothing but a pair of loose linen pants along with loose wrapping around his forehead and head, only leaving space for the Ethereal Glabella that shone through. His two extra pairs of floating hands clamped around his thick forearms as he crossed his arms. His roar was capable of ripping out the souls of the soldiers trembling with agitation before him. The disdain in his fiery gaze was thick. Seeing his mighty Nomad Race react like this in the face of almost certain death filled him with disgust. They were the Nomad Race; their adaptability was second to none. They were designed to be placed into a crucible and come out the other side even stronger than before. They shouldn't shy away from this sort of trial by fire; they should be willing to face off against the dangers instead. And yet... Grimm's gaze shifted and landed on a particular young man. Amidst the panicked and shifty gazes, he was one of the few who managed to keep their wits about them. If Leonel was here, or if Rhangyl hadn't died, they would recognize this young man quite easily. He was none other than Wicked Rhismet, the Nomad young the two had come across during the selection. It seemed that compared to Rhangyl, Wicked was less lucky, ending up in a weaker world. However, his strength had likewise increased by leaps and bounds the moment he stepped foot into a Complete World. There were many geniuses of the Incomplete Worlds that truly soared after shedding the weakness of their former worlds. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Wicked made the choice not to participate in the Gathering of Kingdoms. As for the people of the Nomads, they didn't care to force him either. In their opinion, what could a brat from an Incomplete World do? The only one who seemed to have a good impression of Wicked was Grimm. Wicked had never done anything impressive, but just looking at him Grimm felt that he at least had the look of a real Nomad. BOOM! The sudden sound came abruptly and with the rage of a descending storm. Anarchic Force spun through the air wildly as a man appeared within the cyclone just a few hundred meters away. No... it was hard to even call it a man. It was a humanoid that seemed wrapped in silvery-bronze metallic liquid. The liquid method writhed and wiggled through the air, coming out from his back, shoulders, arms, and legs. It wrapped around his body tightly, leaving almost nothing but his crotch to the imagination. It was as though rather than wearing this Liquid Metal, the metal had become him, like a second layer of skin. One of the tendrils suddenly poked at the air before the young man. The Anarchic Force suddenly dispersed as a Force Art was immediately formed in the skies. BOOM! The laser of light was meters thick and blindingly gold. By the time it faded away, hundreds of Nomads had died, leaving not even a corpse behind. The liquid armor writhed again and the tendrils poked at the air again and again and again. Soon, an array of magic circles filled the skies, turning the dark and gloomy in-between world into a bright and resonant hellscape. The figure continued to walk forward, not swinging the trembling red, gold, and silver spear in his hands even once. Every step he took, hundreds died, unable to even fight back. He reaped without a care, shredding them apart as though their lives were worth nothing but the dregs that were left behind after they were gone. And then it happened. The liquid armor trembled and the dispersing Life Force of the dead Nomads erupted. Creation to Destruction. Life to Death. The Life Force, as though fueled by the Anarchic Force in the surroundings, suddenly roared out and expanded. The very energy of their fallen companions shredded them apart, leaving their army even more decimated. Grimm's eyes seemed ready to pop out of their sockets. The man's movements were far too fast and only a split moment had passed. He didn't even have the time to respond before what felt like half of his army was blown to bits. "BASTARD!" He roared. He stomped the ground hard, fissuring the black land. To do such a feat to earth tempered for so long by Anarchic Force, the power of this man could be imagined. Even the laser beams of light hadn't been able to cut into the ground just now. Grimm appeared before the man in an instant, the aura of a Tier 1 Ninth Dimensional expert rolling out in waves. The Anarchic Force in the surroundings was dispelled like a shadow beneath a sun's rays. Grimm unfurled his arms and his six hands flashed through the skies, four floating in the air and two rumbling beneath the power of his arms. However, it was right then that the figure suddenly took a step forward. [Universe]. Grimm found himself slowing considerably while the figure suddenly vanished, appearing to his back and beginning another all-out slaughter on his fellow Nomads. The tendrils of Liquid Metal rolled like waves through the skies. Every time one lightly plucked at the air, a Force Art would be born into the world, each one different, each one perfect for the situation at hand. The Nomads finally began to organize and fight back, but it seemed entirely useless. Beneath [Universe], it was as though they couldn't control their bodies properly at all while the man was able to float around like swordfish through water. He knifed and cut, casually blocked and parried, and all while not even lifting a single hand. Then, he suddenly appeared before Wicked Rhismet.