Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 761: One Man Army

I just lifted my hand.

A pulse of telekinetic energy ripped through the room, a shockwave of invisible force that sent the first ten men flying backward. Their bodies crashed into the marble columns, their bones cracking against the stone, their weapons clattering to the ground. The rest faltered, their momentum stuttering as they watched their comrades ragdoll through the air.

Nickolai’s smirk faltered.

"What the—?" he breathed, his eyes widening as the men struggled to their feet, only to be slammed back down by another wave of my power. Their bodies skidded across the floor, their limbs twisting at unnatural angles as I crushed their resistance with a thought.

"Dad," Natalya murmured, her voice a mix of awe and amusement, "I told you."

Nickolai didn’t answer. His gaze was glued to the scene unfolding before him, his mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing.

The second wave of attackers lunged, their faces twisted with fury. One man swung a knife at my throat. I flicked my wrist, and the blade stopped midair, suspended as if caught in invisible jelly.

Then, with a twist of my fingers, the knife turned—and buried itself in the man’s own shoulder. He screamed, dropping to his knees, his hand clutching the wound as blood seeped between his fingers.

Another man charged, his fist pulled back for a punch. I curled my fingers, and he froze mid-step, his body locking up like a statue. His eyes bulged with terror as I lifted him into the air, his feet kicking uselessly. With a snap of my wrist, I slammed him into the ceiling. The impact shook dust from the rafters, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"This isn’t possible," Nickolai muttered, his voice rough, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair. His confidence was shattering, replaced by something darker—fear, disbelief.

Natalya’s chuckle was low, knowing. "Oh, it’s very possible," she purred, her eyes gleaming as she watched me dismantle her father’s army without breaking a sweat.

The remaining men hesitated, their bravery faltering as they realized they weren’t just fighting a man—they were fighting something else. Something supernatural. One of them, bolder than the rest, pulled a gun from his waistband and fired.

The bullet stopped inches from my face.

I plucked it from the air with my mind, holding it up between my fingers for a second before crushing it into dust. The man’s face drained of color. I yanked the gun from his grip with a thought, the metal bending like putty before exploding in his hand. He screamed, clutching his shattered fingers, his knees hitting the ground.

Nickolai stood up, his chair scraping back violently. "Enough!" he barked, his voice shaking with something he hadn’t felt in decades—uncertainty. "What the hell are you?!"

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I raised both hands, and every single one of his men lifted into the air at once. Their bodies twisted, their limbs flailing as they struggled against the unseen force. Their screams filled the hall, a chorus of terror and helplessness.

"Dad," Natalya said, her voice dripping with amusement, "meet Jack."

Nickolai’s breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes wide, his mind reeling. "This isn’t—this isn’t human," he stammered, his hand instinctively reaching for his pistol, only to freeze when he realized how useless it would be.

I snapped my fingers.

A wave of telekinetic pressure slammed every man in the room against the walls, their bodies pinned like insects under glass. Their weapons clattered to the ground, their struggles useless. With another flick of my wrist, I twisted—just slightly—and every single one of their necks snapped in unison.

The bodies dropped like marionettes with cut strings, the thud of fifty corpses hitting the marble floor echoing through the hall like the tolling of a death knell.

Silence.

Nickolai staggered back a step, his face ashen, his hands trembling. The man who had spent a lifetime believing he was untouchable, the man who had built an empire on fear, was staring at me like I was something otherworldly.

"Now," I said, my voice calm, final, cutting through the silence like a blade, "do you still have objections?"

Natalya’s laughter was soft, triumphant, her eyes shining with pride. "Told you, Dad," she murmured, her smirk knowing.

Nickolai’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "You—you killed them all," he managed, his voice a rasp, "without even touching them."

"I did," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking between the pile of corpses littering his hall. "You’re not human," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," I agreed, "I’m not."

For the first time in his life, Nickolai had no words. He just stared, his mind grappling with the reality of what he had just witnessed. The man who had ruled through intimidation and brute force was now facing something he couldn’t control, couldn’t understand.

Natalya stood, stepping beside me, her hand slipping into mine. "So," she said, her voice sweet, mocking, "still think he’s not worthy?"

Nickolai’s eyes burned into mine, his pride warring with the raw, unshakable terror of what he’d just witnessed. The man who had spent decades believing himself untouchable, who had built an empire on blood and fear, was now staring at something he couldn’t control, couldn’t comprehend. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers twitching like he was itching to reach for his pistol—only to realize how useless it would be.

Finally, he exhaled, a slow, shuddering breath that seemed to carry the weight of his defeat. His shoulders slumped, just slightly, the first crack in the armor of a man who had never known surrender. "No," he said, his voice rough, broken, "I don’t."

Natalya’s chuckle was soft, knowing, her fingers tightening around mine as she stepped closer. "Jack," she said, her voice laced with pride, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at me, "is like a god." She turned back to her father, her smirk playful, taunting. "He has abilities—things you can’t even imagine."

Nickolai’s gaze snapped to her, his expression a mix of disbelief and fascination. "Abilities?" he repeated, his voice a low growl, "You mean like that?" He gestured vaguely at the pile of corpses scattered across his once-pristine hall, his jaw clenching.

Natalya shook her head, her grin widening. "Oh, Dad," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "that was just the beginning." She leaned against me, her body warm, her presence possessive.

"He can teleport—as we did earlier. One second we’re in the cabin, the next we’re here." She snapped her fingers, the sound sharp in the heavy silence. "He can move things with his mind—like you just saw."