A huge amount of money

Area-25—a name that sent chills down the spine of martial artists whenever it was mentioned.

The reason was simple. It was the Dragon King's fortress, guarded by countless Grandmaster-level ministers. Even a seasoned King would struggle to return alive if they stepped in unprepared.

And the danger didn't stop there. The number of powerful beasts in the region had been rising every month. Officials were on edge, fearing an inevitable beast tide.

If that happened, Base City 5 would be wiped off the map.

Even if Supervisor Charles were present, he was only a Level 8 King—not a top-tier one. All top-level Kings were stationed in the Super Cities, where threats were magnified by proximity to the oceans or massive forests. They didn't have the luxury of guarding regular cities like this.

---

Alliance Hall, Base City 5

Charles sipped his lukewarm coffee, his gaze distant. Ethan had told him he'd be leaving the city in five days. That meant Charles would finally be able to leave this decaying base city too.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. It was Commander Ray from the outpost camp.

Why's he calling at this hour?

"Hello, Ray. What's up?" Charles asked casually.

"Sir, there's a bit of a situation." Ray quickly laid out the report in full detail. "And, sir… I don't think I can handle this."

Charles stood up. Instantly, the laziness drained from his face.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice sharper. "Repeat that again."

Ray reconfirmed it.

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Wait for me. I'll be there within a minute."

Without another word, he strode out of his office.

Outside, a sonic boom shattered the air as Charles soared skyward.

In just 45 seconds, he reached the military outpost. Martial artists felt his arrival—the oppressive pressure of a King slicing through the air. Though none could see him, the aftermath of his passage was enough. They bowed instinctively.

Charles flew straight into the command center, where Ray was waiting stiffly.

"Sir, the mysterious person will be here within 10 minutes. What are your orders?" Ray asked, standing at attention.

"I'll handle it," Charles replied calmly. "You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Ray saluted and left.

---

Charles stood still for a moment, mind racing.

Who are they? Which faction could send someone strong enough to clear Area-25 in under 10 hours?

Even if I mobilized everything, I'd need days and a full battalion.

Ten minutes later.

Charles felt it—a dual Grandmaster aura approaching fast from the sky.

He stepped outside and looked up.

Two men clad entirely in battle armor flew toward the base, each riding a sword. Behind them floated the carcass of a five-meter beast.

Charles's eyes narrowed. Two Spirit Master Grandmasters? What kind of elite force do they belong to?

Ethan spotted him as well. Under his helmet, he muttered, "Why's this old gizzard here?"

But he said nothing aloud.

The two armored figures landed, beast carcass thudding to the ground. By now, a crowd had gathered, drawn by curiosity and awe.

Charles stepped forward with a polite smile.

"Hello. I'm Charles Denver, Supervisor of Base City 5. May I know your name?"

Ethan rolled his eyes behind the armor. I already knew. But in a hoarse voice, he replied, "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Charles. But we can't provide any information about ourselves. Apologies."

Charles frowned slightly. He tried probing their strength—but failed.

Strange. I can't even measure them.

He didn't press. "Come inside. Let's talk business."

Both of Ethan's clones nodded and followed him into the briefing room.

They sat opposite Charles at the long metal table.

"So," Charles began, "you mentioned a three-day hunt. But you cleared the area in a single day?" He gave a light chuckle.

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, the King was really weak. We thought it'd take three days."

Charles's mouth twitched.

Weak? That damn thing kept my entire command center awake at night.

But he kept his expression neutral.

"How many of you are there in this hunt?" Charles asked.

"Eleven," Ethan replied.

Charles nodded thoughtfully. Eleven elites—and perhaps a King among them. That would explain it. He didn't pry further.

Ethan leaned forward. "We're looking for more places like Area-25—zones where one or two Kings might be present. Do you know of any such areas nearby?"

Charles twitched again.

If we had zones like that scattered around, this city would've been flattened already.

Still, he didn't voice it.

"Only Area-25 fits that description," Charles said. "But if you're looking for action, try Area-30, Area-34, and Area-35. They're not as extreme as Area-25, but they do contain many Grandmaster-level beasts."

"Thank you, Mr. Charles," Ethan said. "Now—shall we talk business?"

Charles nodded. "Normally, a Level 4 King-class beast would fetch 30 trillion. But since you cleared a major threat, I'll offer 35 trillion. Fair?"

Ethan nodded. "Agreed. You can transfer the amount to this account." He handed over the credentials.

A few seconds later, Ethan's communicator beeped.

His account had been credited with 35 platinum points.

One platinum point = 1 trillion credits. A clean, efficient system—much better than handling trillions in hard credit.

Ethan stood, shook hands with Charles, and the two clones turned to leave.

Charles watched them go, eyes unreadable. After a moment, he called Ray.

"Process the carcass," he said. Then he hung up.

---

Wilderness, Area-25 — Inside a ruined building

Ethan's main body sat cross-legged in silence.

He wasn't cultivating. He simply liked to meditate—it brought him peace.

Moments later, the two clones returned and showed him the updated balance.

Ethan smiled.

Good. Now, we move to the next step.

He planned to clear more danger zones around Base City 5. He would be leaving soon—but this place held too many memories. Rose was here. Ryan was here. Every corner of this city was tied to his past. He cherished it.

There were ten wilderness areas around Base City. Area-25 was the most dangerous, followed by Areas 30, 34, and 35. The rest were manageable. Ordinary martial artists could handle them. There wouldn't be a beast tide anytime soon—if he handled this right.

He stood up, stepped onto his sword, and shot into the sky—BOOM!

Ten more sonic booms followed.

All his clones ascended after him, forming a trail of shadows in the air.

They split midair.

Ethan and one clone headed to Area-25.

Three clones veered off toward Area-30.

Another three turned toward Area-34.

The last three flew toward Area-35.

The sky echoed with their departure.

After just two minutes of high-speed flight, Ethan arrived at his destination.

Hovering silently in the dusk sky, he scanned the land below with a calm, yet razor-sharp gaze. Nightfall was drawing near. That meant he wouldn't be hunting for long tonight—but what he would do, would be enough to shake the wilderness.

Within his spiritual scanning range, Ethan detected a terrifying number of beasts.

63 Grandmaster-level beasts.

1,157 Master-level beasts.

15,200 Warrior-level beasts.

The numbers were staggering. A base city typically boasted just over 50 Grandmasters. Yet here, in this remote patch of the wilderness, more than that prowled the shadows.

Humanity truly was walking on a razor's edge—one misstep, and they would plunge into the abyss.

But Ethan didn't come here to feel awe. He wasn't here to hesitate.

Without a word, he raised one hand. Twenty gleaming flying knives materialized, forged from pure metal energy, swirling with killing intent.

Each knife launched into the sky like a silver comet, darting across the forest toward the locations of the Grandmaster-level beasts. At the same time, Ethan's clone blurred into action, diving toward the denser areas of the forest to deal with the Master-level threats.

Within Ethan's mental domain, every knife was a ghostly extension of his will—fast, silent, and utterly lethal.

But the Grandmaster beasts were not weak. Their instincts screamed at them the moment the threat approached. In unison, dozens of beastly roars shattered the silence of the night. The ground trembled as giant figures stirred. Trees shook. Eyes gleamed with primal fury.

They sensed death. And it was already upon them.

Yet none of them noticed the man in the sky.

Ethan stood tall upon his sword, floating silently in the air like a deity descending from the heavens. His arms were folded behind his back. His gaze was cold, judgmental—like a divine reaper overlooking a trial.

He spoke one word.

"Massacre."

In an instant, the flying knives found their marks.

Each one pierced through thick hides and iron-hard scales like hot blades slicing butter.

In just five seconds—twenty Grandmaster-level beasts fell, their roars silenced forever.

The blades didn't stop. They hovered in the air, dripping with blood and energy, beginning to search for new prey like cold, vengeful spirits.