Pangaea Academy: Revelations (Countryhumans)

Chapter 55 : There's no place like home

Martial came down from the helicopter and strolled through the city. Occasionally, he would stop and watch a group of medic reviving someone or someone's house burning to the ground. He fiddle with his phone in his pocket before resuming his casual stroll.

It didn't take long for the academy, now a wreckage, appear in his sight. Usually you get to see the grandfather clock and the beautiful gate, but now it was gone. The clock disappeared and turned into a mountain of trash and rubbles. The gate? Martial chuckled.

The gate was nowhere to be seen. Who needs one anyways? Weren't the people here so proud of their low crime rate? Thus, he removed the gate, including everything inside because he felt bored.

Ah, it's so boring.

Martial arrived at the academy and saw a lot of survivors. Not bad, not bad at all.

He sweeped his eyes in the crowd before he saw the person he's looking for. A smile made its way to his lips. Martial took the time to fix his collar, dust his shirt and sleeve, made sure his pants is ironed well, and checked his shiny shoe for mud or blood.

He strode across the rubbles and debri, his light steps and relaxed manner caught the attention of a few students; one of them were Mexico and Poland.

“It's M-Martial...” Poland whispered.

Martial often go into wars against terrorist. He would fly all over in his country, staying in a very backward and isolated village for a few months—maybe a year; he would engage in battle all the time so his senses, despite not using his marks, were sharp. He undoubtedly heard Poland's whisper but he didn't care, he merely gave him a glance that could make anyone shudder in fear.

Poland received such a gaze and felt the hairs all over his body stand on ends.

Mexico clenched his fist. There was nothing he can do, and even if he did, it wouldn't be helpful.

Martial arrived in about a few steps and stood behind Philipia. The moment he appeared, almost everyone shifted their eyes towards him. Despite receiving so many gazes, he didn't flinch or back down.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk... How sad indeed,” He said with a doleful look. “Anyways, he was bound to die sooner or later, at least he didn't suffer—aside from inhaling a large amount of smoke so his lung's probably full of them.”

Philipia instantly knew it was Martial standing behind her. She wanted to yell and scream, but she didn't do anything. She remained standing in place, staring at South's cold body in North's embrace.

North heard Martial's uncaring remarks. Slowly, he turn his head and stared at the devil; donning a laid-back attitude.

Who knew when it happened. North suddenly attacked Martial with a knife he pulled out from South. Martial wasn't the least bit surprised and even effortlessly fought back; he wasn't holding anything and would use nimble moves with his hand.

North kept stabbing and swishing but kept hitting nothing but air. Martial didn't even put up an effort and was bold enough to directly grab his hand holding the knife, twist it away from him and casually push him away; everytime he does so, he would dust his hand as if he touched something dirty.

It only aggravated North, his resentment bubbling in his chest, stabbing his heart. The exchange only lasted for a minute until Martial moved to Philipia's side.

Philipia didn't even watch the spectacle. Her eyes never leaving South. When North attacked Martial, Arabia placed South on a flat surface of a debri.

When the confrontation shifted to her position, Philipia didn't bat an eye, even as the knife accidentally cut her cheek, blood trickling down to her chin.