Under the iron fist of Apocalypse, resistance throughout the City quickly melted away, but it had not been completely quelled.
The leaders of the most aggressive factions were swiftly eliminated publicly using thunderous methods, and the bloody spectacle served as the most effective deterrent.
The remaining forces in the City were forced to band together in panic, forming an Alliance under the pretext of resisting Apocalypse's deprivation of human rights.
They hoped to rely on unity to gain a moment's respite, or perhaps, a bargaining chip for negotiation.
The night was inky black. Inside the Alliance warehouse, a bonfire flickered, illuminating the few people sitting around it.
Previously, they were all leaders of their own factions, but now, they were like stray dogs, forced to unite by Apocalypse.
"That son of a bitch Apocalypse! Hand over points! Centralized management! Distribution according to labor! It sounds better than a song! I think that bastard William just wants to suck us dry to line his own pockets!"
A burly man with a hideous scar on his face spat fiercely, slamming his fist onto the cold concrete floor with a dull thud.
Beside him, a seemingly sharp man adjusted his glasses, his voice betraying helplessness.
"What else can we do if we don't hand them over? Fight them head-on? How many rounds of charge could our few men withstand against those heavily armed maniacs under William?"
"Not to mention William himself, and the existence standing behind him that we absolutely cannot afford to provoke."
The Man with Glasses's words made the atmosphere even heavier.
Rumors about a mysterious powerhouse supporting William had long circulated among the low-level Reincarnators, which was a major reason why Apocalypse was able to rapidly expand in this City.
The man sitting silently nearby suddenly spoke, his voice low.
"Perhaps joining Apocalypse isn't necessarily a bad thing. At least for now, Apocalypse is gaining momentum. Although the rules are strict, there are clear channels for promotion and resource allocation plans."
"With our abilities, we might be able to make something of ourselves inside. It's certainly better than living in fear here, eventually losing everything, even our lives."
Survival, or dignity?
In this precarious Main God Game, this choice has always been brutally bloody.
The bonfire crackled, reflecting the complex expressions on everyone's faces: unwillingness, fear, hesitation, calculation. The Alliance was far from united... At this moment, inside the Alliance headquarters, Rick's planted spies were mingling among the ordinary resistance fighters. They appeared righteously indignant but were actually using words to constantly dismantle everyone's fighting spirit.
"I heard that on Apocalypse's side, minor leaders who proactively defected with resources and subordinates not only retained management rights over their original teams but were also rewarded with extra points."
"Although Leader William is strict, he is truly generous to capable brothers. The last time they took down that Guild, the few who performed meritorious service are now Elders, and they receive points periodically."
"What are we fighting so hard for here? In the end, we get no benefits, lose our lives, and who profits?"
"I heard that the one behind William doesn't even bother with these trivial matters. That person only cares about a bigger world, a grander stage."
"Our little struggles are probably seen by them as nothing more than ants fighting."
"Exactly! He doesn't care about whether we live or die. If we don't submit to Apocalypse, he will definitely kill all those who disobey. Everyone is just trying to survive; for us low-level people, it doesn't matter where we stay."
"In any case, it's all a game played by those big shots; winning or losing has nothing to do with us."
These words, full of temptation and intimidation, seeped in like venom.
Comrades who stood shoulder-to-shoulder resisting Apocalypse during the day might secretly disappear at night, taking their subordinates and resources to defect to Apocalypse.
Suspicion, like a virus, spread wildly within the Alliance.
No one could guarantee that the comrade next to them, who seemed to share a common hatred, wouldn't stab them in the back the next second.
At this moment, the Alliance was on the verge of collapse, morale was scattered, and a large-scale defection seemed imminent.
If this continued, they would likely dissolve even before William had to make a move.
Several days passed, and the Alliance was already tottering. Fatigue was visible on everyone's faces. Before William could even act, their Alliance had begun to fall apart from within.
Perhaps tomorrow, the Alliance would completely disband, and the entire City would fall under William's control!
That night, precisely at the peak of this despair and chaos, a heavy aura suddenly descended upon the warehouse entrance.
At the edge of the bonfire's light, an extraordinarily tall and burly figure blocked most of the light, casting a shadow that nearly engulfed the entrance area.
Simply by standing there, he brought with him a heart-stopping sense of oppression. The aura of a top predator instantly silenced all the noise inside the warehouse.
The previously low sounds of discussion and arguing immediately ceased.
Everyone instinctively tensed their bodies, vigilantly looking toward the uninvited guest—that towering, burly figure, easily two meters high.
He slowly walked into the firelight. His resolute face bore the coldness of one who had endured countless battles, and his sharp gaze swept across the fearful and doubtful faces within the warehouse.
"I hear you are preparing to take down Apocalypse."
His voice was not loud, but it was deep and powerful, clearly reaching everyone's ears.
He was also observing the layout of this world. A lone Hunter might be strong early on, but without the support of faction resources, they would inevitably fall behind later.
This remaining force, which was about to be crushed and absorbed by William, was an excellent stepping stone.
"Who are you? How did you get in?"
The Scarred Man cautiously gripped the weapon at his waist and demanded sharply. The others also grew wary, ready for combat at any moment.
Even though the Alliance was on the verge of collapse, they still had guards posted outside overnight. It was impossible for someone to arrive here without making a sound!
The newcomer did not answer directly but walked to the center of the crowd, like a wolf king surveying its territory.
He ignored the pistols pointed at him, his gaze settling on the few leaders.
"Are you afraid of William, or are you afraid of the nonexistent backer supposedly behind him?"
The man scoffed, his voice laced with undisguised mockery.
"The possessors of SSS-Level Talent are legends standing at the apex of all players globally. Every single one is a strategic-level existence, fully supported and fought over by the largest National Machines and Super Organizations!"
"Would a figure like that deign to hide behind an agent, playing this childish game of slowly annexing City gangs?"
The man's words were like cold water dumped over their heads, startling those blinded by fear and rumors.
That's right! If William truly had such a powerhouse backing him, why wouldn't that person act directly? If he gave the order, the entire City would be his, and no one would complain!
"If William truly had such an existence behind him..."
The man's sharp eyes scanned everyone, his tone decisive.
"This City would have changed hands overnight! Why would there be any need for negotiation, infiltration, or inducement? In the face of absolute military force, all resistance is a joke!"
"The very fact that William uses these methods proves that even if he has someone behind him, they are certainly not some irresistible supreme being!"
"At most, they are a collaborator with some strength, or perhaps they are just bluffing!"
The logic was clear and went straight to the core issue.
People in despair are most easily persuaded by seemingly reasonable hope. The man's analysis instantly shook the foundation of William's supposed invincibility.
"Then... what method do you have?"
The Man with Glasses pushed up his slipping spectacles, his voice urgent.
Hearing this, the man grinned, revealing a hint of a wild smile.
At the same time, he no longer fully suppressed his aura as a Hunter. A wave of energy, far fiercer than that of ordinary Reincarnators, subtly radiated outwards.
"Based on the fact that I am Fenrir, a Hunter!"