Night fell.
The desolate sound of the war horn still seemed to echo along the mountain road.
Black-armored soldiers busied themselves setting up rest tents, paying little attention to Raine and the others.
As if these survivors were nothing more than insignificant dust left behind on the battlefield.
"Iron Dragon Fortress…"
Vice-captain Kyle murmured. The bearded man's eyes were hollow.
"It's eighty li to the northeast. We'll need a full day to get there."
The other three survivors gathered around—young Matthew, the taciturn Pros, and the one-armed old veteran Gore.
Their faces carried the dazed relief of survival, but beneath it lay a bone-deep exhaustion.
The caravan was wiped out.
The employer was dead.
Which meant the pay was gone as well.
They had taken this escort job for money.
Now the money was gone—and their hometowns had already been destroyed by the alien races…
"Go back?"
Matthew spoke quietly, his voice trembling.
"Back to where?"
No one answered.
Their homes had been annihilated years ago by a roaming alien hunting party. Only the few of them had survived.
Going back meant nothing more than scraping by in some refugee camp beyond the Great Wall, or taking even more dangerous jobs for less pay—until one day they died in some nameless corner of the world.
Raine listened silently to their conversation while sensing the changes within his body.
[Host: Raine Valeri]
[Talent: Blood Devourer]
[Rank: Trainee Lv.3]
[Bloodstone: 0]
[Abilities: Bewitching Eye (Basic)]
The power of this world originated from Nex.
The alien races were born as Nex's favored children—possessing terrifying absorption efficiency and growth rates that bordered on despair.
Among humans, only one percent possessed the aptitude to sense and control Nex.
They were known as Awakeners.
By guiding Nex within their bodies—compressing and refining it—Awakeners could painstakingly break through rank barriers.
In simple terms: leveling up.
But their efficiency was less than one-tenth that of the alien races.
If not for humanity's massive population base, the human race would never have survived to this day.
After Awakening, the known human ranks were:
Trainee, Formal, Elite, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Epic, Legendary, and Sanctuary.
Nine ranks in total, each with nine minor levels.
Raine now fully understood how terrifying his cheat was.
This was a brutally violent leveling system that completely overturned the established laws of power.
He could use bloodstone to permanently or temporarily purchase rank increases, skipping the long and arduous Nex accumulation process entirely.
What was even more horrifying was the talent effect "Infinite Level Up."
As long as he had enough bloodstone, he could raise his rank by hundreds—or even thousands—of levels.
Thousands of ranks!
Wiping out the alien races would be nothing more than a slap of the hand.
He continued examining the system interface.
At his current Trainee Lv.3 level:
Permanently increasing one minor rank required 4,397 bloodstone
Temporarily increasing one major rank required 2,000 bloodstone, lasting one hour
Permanently increasing two major ranks required 8,872 bloodstone
Permanently increasing three major ranks required 25,372 bloodstone
Temporary major rank boosts were expensive—and one-time only.
But they directly elevated him to the peak of that rank.
In other words—
Whether he was Trainee Lv.1 or Trainee Lv.9, spending 2,000 bloodstone would immediately boost him to Formal Rank Lv.9.
On the battlefield, bloodstone sources were never scarce.
As long as he kept killing enemies, this talent would grant him a snowballing advantage.
This was a talent born for the battlefield.
If he stayed in the rear…
How long would it take to encounter a battle?
How long to kill even a single alien?
By the time he saved enough bloodstone for the next rank, it would probably be the year of the monkey.
But the frontlines were different.
There were battles every day.
Slaughter every day.
They were the source of bloodstone—the place where the system could unleash its full potential.
"I want to enlist."
Raine suddenly spoke.
Four pairs of eyes snapped toward him.
Kyle frowned.
"Raine, are you insane?"
"Do you know what the frontlines are like? I've heard the average survival time for new recruits is three months!"
"And what if we stay here?"
Raine asked calmly—so calm it was frightening.
"Do you think we'll survive the next encounter with alien races?"
"This time it was Heartwitch Succubi. Next time it could be vampires, iron-devouring insects, or something far worse."
"Do you think our luck will always be good enough that the army just happens to pass by?"
Matthew opened his mouth, wanting to speak—but no words came.
"At least the army feeds you,"
Raine continued.
"There's equipment. Training. Military pay. At least you won't starve."
He paused and looked at Kyle.
"Uncle Kyle… if your son were still alive, he'd be six this year, wouldn't he?"
Kyle's body stiffened. His eyes instantly reddened.
His wife and child had both died in the massacre years ago.
"If we stay in the rear,"
Raine said softly,
"we'll just rot away like wild dogs."
His voice was light—but it cut like a knife into everyone's heart.
"At the frontlines, at least we can take up weapons and kill a few alien races."
Silence spread across the mountain road.
In the distance, vultures cried.
Those carrion birds had already smelled the blood and were beginning to circle overhead.
"Damn those alien races!"
Gore suddenly cursed.
The one-armed veteran wiped his face with his remaining hand.
"This life of mine was borrowed anyway. I should've died years ago."
"Raine's right. One kill breaks even. Two kills is profit!"
Matthew clenched his teeth.
"I… I'll go too. I've got nowhere else to go."
Pros simply nodded.
The silent man had always spoken through actions.
Kyle looked at his companions—then at Raine.
The child he had watched grow up now stood before him with eyes filled with resolve and determination.
Those eyes didn't belong to the Raine he knew.
At least, not the Raine who used to smile honestly and help carry cargo in the caravan.
But Kyle didn't ask any questions.
In this world, everyone had their own changes.
What mattered was that they were still alive—and still willing to walk together.
"…Alright."
Kyle finally nodded.
"Then we go together. If we die, we die together."
The decision was made.
Next came action.
Raine walked toward the center of the military camp.
A man in a silver-white officer's uniform was directing troop deployment.
"Stop!"
Several black-armored soldiers leveled their spears at Raine.
"What do you want?"
Raine raised both hands to show he was unarmed.
"We want to join the army."
The officer paused, studying Raine in the firelight.
The young man's bloodstains had dried. His clothes were torn.
But his eyes were unnervingly calm—utterly unlike an ordinary survivor.
At the same time, Raine observed the officer.
Silver-white uniform. A white cloak draped over one shoulder.
Four silver stars gleamed at the clasp.
A stern-looking middle-aged man.
The officer glanced at the stretcher bearing a succubus corpse.
"You're the kid who killed a Heartwitch Succubus?"
He patted Raine's shoulder.
"Brave—but stupid."
"People who play heroes on the battlefield usually die the fastest."
"It wasn't heroics,"
Raine replied calmly.
"I just want to live. And the best way to live… is to kill all enemies."
The officer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
After a few seconds of silence, he spoke.
"My name is Aaron. Deputy Captain of the Seventh Division, Scarlet Wall Patrol."
"You want to enlist?"
"My companions and I,"
Raine said, gesturing behind him.
"Five of us."
"More people die on the frontlines every day than you've seen in your entire lives."
"Most recruits panic in their first battle—and get torn apart by alien races."
"Staying in the rear is just waiting to die,"
Raine said.
"Better to die on the frontlines. Maybe we can take a few alien races with us."
Aaron stared into Raine's eyes, weighing the truth of his words.
After a long moment, he nodded.
"Fine."
"You've chosen this path, so I'll give you the chance—but remember this…"
His voice turned cold and sharp.
"From the moment you become soldiers, you are no longer individuals."
"You are weapons. Consumables. Flesh thrown into the war grinder."
"You obey orders. You kill designated enemies."
"If you don't have that resolve—go back and milk cows."
He removed a black iron tag from his belt and tossed it to Raine.
The metal was icy cold, engraved with a relief of the Great Wall.
"Seventh Training Camp. Recruit identification tag."
"Remember—survive three months, and you'll earn the right to be called a soldier."
"If you don't… you're just another pile of nameless rotten flesh."
Raine clenched the tag tightly.
"Thank you, sir!"
"No need for thanks."
Aaron turned away.
"Tomorrow, leave with the convoy for Iron Dragon Fortress. For now—find the quartermaster, get some food, and rest."
As Aaron disappeared behind the tents, Raine stared down at the iron tag in his hand.
…