"Whoo..."
Letting out a breath of scorching steam, Hansen disengaged his transformation, taking a moment to marvel at how strangely things had developed. The intense pressure that had saturated the entire lair a moment ago vanished as quickly as it had come, fading like a tide slipping back into the sea.
But as the thrill faded, it was replaced by a familiar annoyance. The number of skills displayed on his panel kept climbing, and so did the growing chasm between his abilities and his dwindling supply of Origin Points.
[Origin Points: 2645]
Upgrading any SSR-tier ability felt like pouring water into a sieve. Even SR-tier ones, like "Monsterization," demanded a heavy cost. Fully leveling them wasn't any easier. With only a little over two thousand points currently saved up, the idea of maxing out any skill was simply not realistic.
Casting a glance at the collection of ability icons glowing with need, Hansen let out a slow breath and muttered to himself, "My only goal now is to make money... no, collect Origin Points!"
In Hansen's domain, the rat-type monster named Fang, who served as his chief steward, sat in orderly fashion with the rest of the Tiger-level captains, all lined up patiently, awaiting their lord's orders. After finishing his duty of feeding Rover, Hansen had finally acknowledged the emptiness of his account and quickly made up his mind to find a way to generate his own income.
In the brutal lower tiers of the Monster Association, where strength determined everything, there was no question about what the quickest route to wealth would be: war.
Based on what Hansen had gathered the previous day, lower-level monsters only had two main responsibilities: to serve the stronger monsters above them and, more crucially, to fight and secure territory. These turf skirmishes were, for them, a vital outlet. Aside from internal fights, it was the most invigorating and morale-boosting team activity they had.
To Hansen, though, all of it reeked of primitive street violence. Petty, directionless, and crude. If he was going to move, it had to be on a larger scale, something worthy of actual consequence.
War
Since Psykos was so obsessed with her near-death evolution theories, it only made sense to escalate the chaos and toss more fuel into the fire she had started.
"Fang."
His deep voice resonated through the cavernous underground chamber.
"My lord! I'm here!"
Before the words had even completely left his mouth, a flash of gray darted from the corner, landing cleanly in front of Hansen's feet.
It was Fang.
The past two days had gone exceptionally well for him. After devouring the body of a Tiger-level monster that first night, his meals had consisted of limbs, thighs, and steaming, stringy organ flesh, all delivered by terrified monsters offering tribute to buy protection.
His once-scrawny body had become tougher, his fur was sleek and polished, and his small, black eyes shone with cleverness and determination.
"My lord, what are your orders?"
Fang stood upright on his hind legs, pressing his front paws together in an exaggeratedly respectful gesture.
"Tell me, what kind of neighbors do we have in this area?" Hansen tapped the armrest of his throne with a steady rhythm.
Hearing that, Fang's round rodent eyes darted back and forth as he instantly grasped what his boss intended. So the boss was preparing to lead a turf war himself!
His heart jumped with excitement. Without delay, he began sketching a crude map into the dirt using his claw, speaking rapidly as the lines took shape. "Lord Hansen! We're located at the far western edge of the Association. That means most of our neighbors are directly to the east."
After a pause, Fang explained.
"The closest group is the 'Burrowing Moles.' Their leader is a Tiger-level monster, commanding several dozen Wolf-level mole types. They specialize in ambushes and subterranean movement. Honestly, their digging skills are nearly as good as mine!
Further east, you'll find the territories of the 'Mud Slime' and the 'Iron-Winged Mantis.' They've been locked in a prolonged war over control of the underground swamp terrain between them.
And then there's... blah blah blah!"
As Fang went on, Hansen sat in silence, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the stone armrest of his throne. From the string of explanations, he quickly pieced together a general idea of the local power structure.
In short, every leader mentioned so far was bottom-tier garbage.
Just like that pathetic Slime Octopus.
"That's enough," Hansen said, cutting off the tapping and shifting his gaze toward Fang. "How many monsters do we have under our control right now?"
Fang blinked, then quickly responded. "My lord, we haven't done a complete count yet, but as of now we've got nine Tiger-level monsters. As for the Wolf-level troops... at least a thousand!"
He added quickly, "The surrounding factions seem to operate on similar numbers."
That made sense. Among monster factions, a balance of power was often maintained simply because most groups were evenly matched.
Only when one side grew too strong did things start tipping over. Just like what was about to happen.
"Send word to everyone," Hansen said coolly, "gather any monster that's still able to move. We're going to war."
"W-War?!"
Fang had been anticipating something along those lines, but hearing it declared with such calm confidence still made his breath catch.
"My lord, who's the first target?"
Hansen's eyes flicked down to the simple dirt map Fang had etched out with his claws. He scanned it once and replied without hesitation. "We'll start with those burrowing moles. We'll cut straight through them."
Fang practically vibrated with excitement. It was as though someone had injected pure adrenaline into his veins. Being trusted with a major assault sent him into a frenzy of squeaks.
"Yes, my lord! I'll see it through without fail!"
...
Half a day later.
Boom!
A deafening explosion echoed at the entrance to the Burrowing Moles' lair, followed by a rising column of smoke and debris.
Hansen was already charging forward at the head of the formation. His tall body, encased in thick black armor, surged through the shattered tunnel like a living battering ram. Behind him came the nine Tiger-level monsters, with a sea of Wolf-level troops swarming in from the rear.
With the level of power he now possessed, Hansen had no intention of wasting time with any kind of negotiation.
After Fang had pinpointed the location of the moles' stronghold, Hansen launched a fully charged version of his upgraded "Scorching Blast," obliterating the tunnel entrance sealed with dirt and rock in a single blast.
Rumble!!
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
The ground trembled as the burrow shook violently, sending shockwaves through the tunnel system and throwing everything into chaos. Dozens of Wolf-level mole monsters scrambled from all directions, shrieking in panic. Moments later, their Tiger-level leader, the so-called "Burrowing Mole," emerged from the dust, his face twisted with fury and disbelief.
"Who dares—"
Before the sentence could leave his mouth, a flash of black tore through the air.
With "Swift Wind" activated, Hansen's already unmatched speed rose to a level that defied logic. In an instant, his claws blurred past the Burrowing Mole's head and sliced cleanly through it, as effortlessly as steel tearing through paper.
[Tiger-level monster slain ×1. Origin Points gained: 25!]
"The hell?!!!"
The moles froze. Their leader had died so quickly they barely understood what had just happened. Panic spread like wildfire.
The Tiger-level monsters in Hansen's force bared their fangs, eager to pounce and carry out a savage, one-sided slaughter. But just as they tensed to charge forward, they suddenly paused.
Because Hansen didn't stop.
The dark figure who had killed the enemy boss moved without hesitation. His claws lashed out again and again. Without waiting for reinforcements, he waded into the heart of the mole army and began a merciless rampage.
Right in front of his own troops, Hansen launched a massacre. The carnage was so swift and overwhelming that nothing could prevent it.
Five minutes later, the battle had ended.
Not a single casualty on Hansen's side. Several hundred Origin Points were collected in the process.
"Next up is the Mud Slime and Iron-Winged Mantis, right? Fang, lead the way."
He shook off the blood from his claws. There was a faint gleam of thrill in his eyes.
Fand, along with all the other monsters, was utterly speechless.
Wait… seriously?
If war was going to look like this, then what were the rest of them even needed for?
It felt absurd. It felt wrong. And yet Fang still let out a sharp, rallying cry and turned to lead the charge.
They advanced again, marching toward the next target.
...
Deep within the Monster Association's headquarters, a colossal chamber carved into solid rock contained a floating throne far larger than necessary.
Seated atop it was a grotesque, pinkish-purple, swollen creature with a single central eye and four arms.
A Dragon-level monster known as "Gyoro Gyoro."
Eight thin eyestalks extended from its head, twitching and releasing invisible waves of warped psychic energy. Two of its short hands were clasped dramatically across its chest, while the other two hung lazily from the throne's armrests.
In front of it stood a tall, insectoid figure.
Its body resembled a praying mantis fused with a machine, three main eyes arranged in a triangle dominated its face, while two smaller eyes on either side gave it a predator's panoramic view.
Its limbs ended in blades like surgical tools. Razor-sharp mandibles clicked slowly beneath its armored head. Its back was covered in a chitinous shell, beneath which transparent wings could vibrate rapidly.
Everything about this radiates lethal control. Its plated carapace shimmered with metallic menace, and its very presence seemed to quiet the air.
This was Bug God, one of the Monster Association's elite Demon-level enforcers.
"So, Sir Gyoro Gyoro wants me to eliminate this new idiot who doesn't know their place?"
The raspy words hung in the air as all five of his crimson eyes glowed with an ominous light. His voice held a faint tremor of anticipation and barely concealed bloodlust.
For the past few days, a rumor had been spreading through the Association. A newcomer had appeared without warning and launched a devastating campaign of war across the lower ranks.
In just a handful of days, more than a dozen minor factions had been wiped out.
Dozens of Tiger-level monsters were dead. Thousands of Wolf-level monsters had been slaughtered.
Unsurprisingly, this raised increasing concern for Gyoro Gyoro, or more specifically, for Psykos, the true manipulator. She didn't care about the lives of low-tier monsters, but even cannon fodder was meant to die with a purpose.
That newcomer's violent rampage hadn't triggered any near-death awakenings. No breakthroughs. No desperate evolutions. No new monsters born from agony.
"Well… there's no need to be quite so aggressive."
===
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