"Hmm… there's really no need to be so aggressive."
Gyoro Gyoro twitched slightly, clearly accustomed to Bug God's bloodthirsty temperament. As the muscle of his faction, this behavior was nothing new.
A voice infused with psychic energy echoed from all directions. "I've seen that little guy before. The potential it's shown is quite valuable. Personally, I'd like to see how far it can go."
As it spoke, a tightly sealed cloth bag floated toward Bug God, suspended midair by invisible psychic force.
"Let's do this, Bug God. Deliver this to him for me. And while you're at it, give your insect clan junior a bit of a wake-up call."
Gyoro Gyoro's tone was composed. "If he wants to seize more territory and power, fine. But those low-level monsters still have their uses. We can't let them all be wiped out so easily."
He paused, then added, "That's it. Just pass on my exact words."
Bug God stood silent for a moment before grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Understood. I'll take care of it."
With that, he turned and strolled out of the hall. The friction of his armored shell echoed through the chamber with a faint rustling sound.
"So this is the junior Gyoro Gyoro's taken an interest in… Heh. I hope this so-called newcomer turns out to be a pleasant surprise."
…
Deep underground, another monster faction teetered on the edge of collapse.
With a single squeeze of his claws, Hansen crushed the skull of a Tiger-level monster. The wet crunch split the silence as red and white fluids sprayed across the rocky floor, signaling the end of yet another local ruler.
But Hansen wasn't fighting for justice. This wasn't about liberation.
As usual, he slaughtered more than half of the region's monsters. His obsidian armor gleamed beneath a coat of fresh blood. The survivors trembled in silence, not daring to move.
[Defeated Tiger-level monsters ×7. Gained Origin Points ×231!]
[Defeated Wolf-level monsters ×437. Gained Origin Points ×1183!]
He had to put on a convincing performance.
After all, Psykos could be watching from any hidden vantage point. A few survivors were enough to feign mercy. Wasn't that... generous? But the truth was, these low-level monsters were pathetic and weak.
After days of slaughter, Hansen had disrupted the chaos that the Monster Association had so carefully nurtured among the lower ranks. And even then, the Origin Points he'd earned didn't come close to what Gyoro Gyoro had casually handed him once.
There was one bright spot, though.
In the dens of several defeated Tiger-level leaders, he found a considerable haul of Monster Cells. Altogether, there were dozens of freshly cultivated, high-quality resources. Naturally, Hansen claimed them all under his authority as boss.
After clawing his way through wave after wave of weaklings for such modest gains, Hansen suddenly had a powerful urge to march up to Orochi and take a bite out of him.
Those were supposed to be his Monster Cells.
"Fang, same as always. Find a few Tiger-level monsters and have them recruit the rest of the survivors."
Hansen exhaled a scalding breath that burned the blood and grime from his claws.
"Take a squad and dig up any Monster Cells they've got hidden. Send them back to me."
"Yes, sir! I'll make sure everything's done exactly as ordered!"
Fang puffed up proudly and immediately started strutting around the cave, barking orders like a seasoned commander.
Although any one of the Tiger-level leaders present could have ended him in an instant, none dared to challenge the rat monster. Everyone knew he had powerful backers, and that was enough to keep even the most arrogant in line.
As his subordinates began their assigned tasks, Hansen turned from the blood-soaked battlefield, his gaze shifting to the deeper tunnels ahead.
According to intel gathered through Fang's expanding network, a Demon-level monster from the Ogre Clan had taken root further down in the mines. Aside from Hansen himself, this creature was the most powerful entity operating in the entire sector.
The Monster Association was filled with beings of all shapes and sizes, but certain rules helped sort the chaos. By ability or origin, monsters could be classified as human mutation types, evolved organisms, psychic types, special lifeforms, obsession-possessed types, and those blessed by divine forces.
They could also be divided by form or species: insect types, beast types, sea folk, ogres, demons, rock creatures, plant monsters, freaks, and other categories.
Some formed alliances based on shared traits or backgrounds. Others remained unaffiliated and acted alone.
The monster that had settled into the mine ahead belonged to the latter. Known as "Santō," he was a lone Demon-level monster with dominion over earth and stone.
Battles at the Demon-level were far beyond what lower-ranked monsters could survive. Even so, Hansen brought along a few recently conquered Tiger-level subordinates. As the boss, his job was to handle the main threat. If the enemy had stockpiled anything useful, his subordinates would collect and carry it back.
And if Santō's abilities turned out to be something worthwhile? Hansen was confident he still had plenty of room to grow.
…
The path leading to the mine was not hidden. In fact, it was conspicuously exposed. Rough excavation marks covered the walls, and the air hung heavy with rock dust and grit.
Hansen walked forward at a casual pace, trailed by the Tiger-level monsters he'd selected. All of them had survived the recent conflict and bore witness to his brutal efficiency. After watching him tear through their former comrades like paper, they now followed him with a loyal mix of fear and submission.
"Boss," one of them said carefully. It was a boar-like monster with long tusks and heavy fangs. "According to the intel we squeezed out of the last captive, Santō's nest should be just ahead."
He kept his voice low, clearly afraid that any slip might make him the next one to be torn apart.
The group reached the cave's entrance and stopped abruptly.
From within the dim interior, a black creature emerged, staggering into view.
Its appearance was utterly absurd. The creature had no neck at all; its bulbous head and swollen torso were fused into a single lump. Its stubby arms and legs looked like they'd been sketched as an afterthought. A pale, distorted face sat on top of its head, its features twisted into a greasy smirk like some perverted clown from a rundown traveling show.
In one hand, it held a bone stripped clean of flesh. With no sense of urgency, it picked lazily at its jagged teeth.
If Hansen had seen this absurd thing in a gag manga, he probably would've laughed and moved on. But here, in the flesh, all he felt was a cold shiver crawling up his spine.
As a transmigrator, he had learned one hard rule that never failed: the worse the art style, the more terrifying the monster.
Exhibit A: the pair of infamous, sketchily drawn legends, Caped Baldy and Tornado of Terror.
And this one? Its appearance was hideous, laughable even, but Hansen recognized it instantly.
A Dragon-level cadre of the Monster Association. A creature that claimed to possess 54 trillion bodies, each one capable of crushing an A-Class hero with ease,
Black Sperm
Just from this monster's casual emergence, Hansen could already guess that the so-called Demon-level Santō had long since been turned into fertilizer. In fact, the bone Black Sperm was using to pick his teeth might very well have come from him.
Hansen's mind raced, but his expression remained steady and calm.
Against monsters of this caliber, even a flicker of the wrong emotion could spark instant annihilation.
"Huh? So many people," Black Sperm muttered, finishing his impromptu tooth-cleaning and tossing the bone to the side. His narrow, grimy eyes scanned the group lazily, filled with mockery.
"Pfft. Where'd all these nobodies crawl out from? What are you all doing here?"
Despite the overwhelming pressure radiating from him, his voice was light, almost bored. There was no overt menace, just a dragon-level monster casually chatting like it was no big deal.
Without hesitation, Hansen stepped forward, dipped his head slightly, and replied in a tone perfectly balanced between deference and confidence. "Sir, I serve as Lord Overgrown Rover's personal chef. Lord Gyoro Gyoro ordered me to gather fresh ingredients for him."
"Oh? Rover's chef?" Black Sperm narrowed his eyes, stepped in close, and gave Hansen a deep sniff. His face twisted into a mix of annoyance and disappointment. "Tch. You really do stink like that dumb mutt…"
Black Sperm then smirked.
"What a waste. This whole body's made of prime-grade protein."
Hearing this, Hansen was confused.
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