One man show.

The stream channels were slowly coming back to life as the day settled in, discussions buzzing among eager viewers.

"Nothing substantial has happened since the Devil's Enclave chapter," one comment read.

"The first part of the hunt is usually slow. The excitement from yesterday must've put pressure on the other participants."

"Yeah, but we might see some real action today."

"I heard the Alliance is planning something special."

"Prince Pax is truly the strongest of our fiefdom's younger generation."

"Our fiefdom is in decline. Back in my day, he wouldn't even be captain material," an older viewer chimed in.

"What's this oldie talking about?"

"Right, Grandpa, go back to bed."

"Our fiefdom might be ranked last among the ten, but Pax is our hope for this generation!"

"Look at the feed! It's starting!"

"Pax! Pax! Pax! Pax!"

On-screen, Pax strode forward at a deliberate pace, his figure radiating quiet confidence. His subordinates had cleared an open area for his demonstration, anticipation thick in the air.

"Set up the drones. Have all units fall back," his attendant spoke into a mic.

The forces that had been locked in a brutal struggle against a tightly packed horde of aluminum scarabs began retreating strategically, leaving Pax alone at the center of the battlefield.

"Look! It's Pax. His charisma is unmatched."

As if in sync with the unfolding spectacle, every major feed tuned in to his broadcast. He stood in full view, clad in a sleek, black skin-tight bodysuit. His biocore had activated, deploying a silver exoskeleton in its partial morph—armor plating strategically covering his spine and limbs, reinforcing his movements without restricting his agility. His helmet which was an intricate tiger-shaped design, gleamed under the light. Four pulsating lights on his chest denoted his rank.

"The Primal Roar partial morph is as terrifying as ever."

"Wait… is that a new weapon?"

"He's going solo against the horde? Too strong!"

Pax extended his right arm, and before the crowd's eyes, his weapon materialized—a breathtaking sight as countless crystals converged, forming the blade with seamless precision.

"Nano-biocore metal?! That's a custom weapon—it must've cost a fortune!"

"I can't even imagine how long it took to gather enough nanocore for that!"

The Blade of Resonance.

The sword shimmered like liquid silver, its form both elegant and deadly. The crystalized nano-metal adapted to its wielder's bio-signature, its structure shifting dynamically as Pax gripped the hilt. Intricate vein-like channels ran along its length, glowing faintly with pulsating energy, responding to the fluctuations of his biocore. 

Though lightweight, its density was beyond any conventional weapon, capable of shifting between razor-thin slashes and blunt-force impacts with the slightest adjustment of Pax's grip.

Then, the onslaught began.

Pax lunged forward with inhuman speed, his Primal Roar ability activating in a thunderous burst. A deep, guttural sound erupted from his core, making his presence vibrating with raw power. His strength and agility skyrocketed, every fiber of his being pushing to its absolute limits.

The aluminum scarabs surged toward him, in the form of a relentless tide of gleaming carapaces and razor-like mandibles. The first wave leapt at him—only to be cleaved apart mid-air, his sword carving through their metallic shells with terrifying ease. Sparks flew as his blade danced between them, each strike being a calculated blur of motion.

The horde tried to overwhelm him with sheer numbers, attacking from all sides. But Pax flowed between them, while his body moved with predatory grace. His every step sent shockwaves through the ground as his enhanced muscles propelled him forward.

A scarab twice the size of the others lunged at him from behind, its reinforced exoskeleton glowing with an internal charge. Without even looking, Pax twisted mid-dodge, bringing his blade down in a brutal arc. The sword shifted states, momentarily solidifying into a serrated edge, slicing through the creature's defenses with a bone-shaking crack.

More came, swarming him from every direction. Pax roared again, and the force of his voice sent ripples through the battlefield, destabilizing the scarabs in its radius. He used that split-second opening to tear through them in a whirlwind of destruction.

"Unbelievable! He's cutting through the horde like it's nothing!"

"He is dominating!"

But Pax wasn't done. With his enhanced reflexes, he predicted the next movement of the scarabs. His sword shifted once more, elongating into a lance-like form as he propelled himself forward, piercing through three enemies in a single thrust.

By the time he landed, dozens of scarab corpses littered the battlefield. Pax exhaled slowly, his body pulsing with residual power and his helmet hiding the slight smirk on his lips.

The hunt had truly begun.

Pax exhaled. His breath was coming out in sharp bursts as he surveyed the battlefield. The ground was littered with crushed and bisected scarab corpses, their metallic shells still twitching from the residual energy of his strikes. But the horde was unrelenting. For every ten he cut down, twenty more surged forward. Their razor-sharp mandibles were clicking hungrily and their red sensor eyes locked onto him with renewed aggression.

A deep rumble coursed through the battlefield as the scarabs began to synchronize—a swarm intelligence at play. They adjusted, adapting to his movements,and testing his reactions. 

They were learning.

Lunatic 66: He's already taken down fifty of them, but the real fight starts now!"

"This is insane! How long can he keep up that level of exertion?"

"He's gonna run out of stamina soon! No one can maintain a full-powered Primal Roar state for that long!"

The chat exploded with speculation, debates raging as to whether even Pax had limits.

He shifted his stance. His biocore exoskeleton adjusted, compensating for the increasing strain on his muscles. The pulsating lights on his chest flickered erratically—his power expenditure was getting dangerously high. Still, his grip on his nano-biocore blade tightened.

"I'm not done yet," Pax muttered.

With explosive force, he threw himself back into the fray, meeting the next charge of scarabs head-on.

He ducked as two of the creatures lunged, their bladed legs slicing through the air where his head had been a fraction of a second ago. He countered instantly, his sword shifting into a broad cleaver, sweeping in a devastating arc that ripped through their armored forms like paper.

Another wave crashed into him from all sides. Pax planted his feet, his core straining as he forced the horde back, his raw strength shaking the ground beneath him. Scarabs latched onto his arms, legs, and shoulders, trying to drag him down.

His vision blurred. His lungs burned. His body screamed for rest.

But he didn't stop.

"He's slowing down!"

"Come on, Pax! You can do this!"

"He's already at a hundred kills! He has to push through!"

The crowd held their breath as Pax let out another low, guttural growl. His Primal Roar flared again, sending a shockwave that ripped the scarabs off him, throwing them backward in a spiraling heap.

Then, he charged.

He moved like a phantom, a storm of steel and fury. His sword morphed dynamically, shifting between razor-thin strikes for precision kills and broad crushing swings for overwhelming force. Scarabs exploded into fragments as he tore through them with reckless abandon.

Lunatic 66: He's at 150! No way… He's actually doing it!"

Pax's muscles burned with exertion, his exoskeleton flashing warning signs across his visor. His body teetered on the edge of collapse, but he refused to fall. His vision darkened at the edges, his breath ragged.

The scarabs surrounded him again, taking advantage of his momentary fatigue.

 Lunatic 66: Shit, he's losing momentum!"

"NO! HE CAN STILL WIN THIS!"

"GET UP, PAX!!"

The cries resonated across the battlefield, through the screens of thousands watching.

Pax's grip trembled—for the first time, his sword felt heavy. But deep inside, something flickered.

A conviction.

Power isn't inherited. It's proven.

He gritted his teeth, planted his foot, and—

ROARED.

The air shook. A thunderous and primal shockwave teared through the battlefield.

His muscles snapped back to life, pushing past their limits. The veins in his arms pulsed as his blade reformed, taking on an even deadlier shape—a serrated edge, crackling with kinetic energy.

Then, he moved.

A final blitzkrieg of destruction.

One step—three scarabs impaled.

A pivot—five cleaved in half.

A leap—a devastating downward slash obliterated an entire cluster.

Every movement carried absolute power, absolute precision, as he pushed through the agony, through the exhaustion, through the pain of his body screaming for rest.

"He's done it! 200!!"

The chat erupted in cheers.

"PAX! PAX! PAX!"

The remaining scarabs hesitated, their swarm logic overloaded. They scattered, unwilling to face the unstoppable force that had just annihilated two hundred of their kind.

Pax stood at the center of the bloodied battlefield, his armor smoking, his sword humming, his breath heavy but victorious.

He had done it.

And the world had witnessed.