"Whew, "
Letting out a long breath of hot steam, Hans marveled at the strange twists of fate as he canceled his transformation.
In an instant, the suffocating aura that had filled the entire cavern receded like a tide.
But after the excitement came frustration.
The more abilities appeared on his panel, the larger the gap in Source Points became.
[Source Points: 2645]
Upgrading SSR abilities was a bottomless pit, and even SR-level ones like Monsterization demanded a hefty amount.
With his meager two-thousand-something balance, it wasn't even worth thinking about.
Looking at the row of hungry, flashing ability icons, Hans couldn't help but sigh deeply.
"My only goal right now is to make money… no, to farm Source Points!!!"
In Hans's territory, Fang and several tiger-level underbosses sat neatly in a row, waiting for their boss's orders.
After feeding Pochi, Hans realized his wallet was painfully empty. He immediately decided to "self-fund."
And in the cutthroat lower ranks of the Monster Association, there was only one fast way to profit: War.
After asking around the day before, Hans learned something interesting.
Aside from serving the higher-ups and providing "services" to executives, low-level monsters had one major daily activity,
Territory battles.
Essentially, it's their version of a team-building exercise.
To Hans, though, this "territory-grabbing" nonsense was no better than street thuggery, far too lowbrow.
If he was going to make a move, it was going to be big.
War.
Didn't Psykos love pushing monsters toward "evolution through near-death"?
Fine. He'd just throw another log onto her fire.
"Fang!"
His deep voice echoed through the cavern.
"Here, sir!"
Almost before he'd finished speaking, a gray blur shot from the corner like an arrow and stopped precisely at Hans's feet, Fang, the rat monster.
Life had been good for him lately. After the feast of tiger-level carcasses, he'd been eating monster limbs, thighs, and steaming viscera every day, offerings of "protection fees" from those who feared his position.
The once-skinny rat was now plump and glossy, his fur sleek, his beady eyes gleaming with cunning fervor.
"What are your orders, my lord?"
Fang stood on his hind legs and clasped his claws together in an obsequious bow.
"Tell me, who are our neighbors around this area?"
Hans's fingers tapped idly on the stone armrest.
Fang's eyes flicked, instantly understanding his boss's intent.
Got it, boss wants to personally lead a turf war!
Excited, he quickly scratched a crude map onto the ground and began rambling:
"Reporting to my lord! Our area's on the far west edge of the Association, so most neighbors are to the east."
"The closest is the Mole Diggers' territory. Their leader's a tiger-level monster, with dozens of wolf-level underlings. They're good at tunneling and ambushes, almost as good at digging as I am!"
"Further east is the Sludge Beast and Iron-Winged Mantis. Those two have been tearing each other apart over a swamp region!"
"And beyond that…"
Hans listened quietly, tapping the armrest in rhythm.
From Fang's report, he got a clear picture of the local power map.
In short: Every local "ruler" was about as impressive as that useless Slime Octopus.
"Good." Hans stopped tapping and glanced at Fang. "How many fighters do we have left?"
Fang blinked, then quickly replied, "My lord, we haven't taken count, but nine tiger-level monsters and at least a thousand wolf-level!"
He added, "That's about the same scale as the nearby factions."
Hans nodded. 'Fair enough.'
Monster factions stayed balanced only when they were of similar power.
If one grew too strong…
Well, situations like this happened.
"Spread the word. Gather everyone who can still move. We're going to war."
"W-War?!"
Fang had guessed it, but hearing Hans say it so decisively still made his heart skip a beat.
"Wh–which one do we hit first?"
Hans's eyes drifted to the crude map. "Start with the Mole Diggers. We'll kill our way through from there."
One simple sentence, and Fang practically vibrated with excitement.
"Yes, my lord! I'll see it done!"
Half a day later.
BOOM!
An explosion tore open the entrance of the Mole Diggers' lair, sending thick smoke rolling outward.
Hans charged at the front, his tall, armored frame like a living tank, followed by nine tiger-level subordinates and a sea of wolf-level fodder.
With his current power, he didn't even bother talking.
Once Fang confirmed the enemy's position, Hans launched a charged, enhanced Scorched Bomb, blasting open their stone-and-dirt barricade.
Rumble!!
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
Panic erupted inside the tunnels.
Dozens of wolf-level moles shrieked as they scrambled out, their tiger-level leader roaring furiously,
"Who dares-
Before he could finish, a black blur flashed past.
Activating his SSR Swift Wind, Hans's speed soared even higher!
Before the mole leader could react, Hans's claws sliced clean through his skull.
[Killed Tiger-level Monster ×1, +25 Source Points]
The moment their boss dropped, the moles completely broke.
Hans's tiger-level fighters roared with laughter, ready to join the slaughter, but froze.
Their boss hadn't stopped.
In full view of his troops, Hans rampaged alone through the enemy horde, his claws blurring in a whirlwind of carnage.
The massacre was absolute.
Five minutes later, it was over.
Zero casualties on Hans's side. Several hundred Source Points gained.
"Next," Hans said, flicking blood from his claws. "Sludge Beast and Iron-Winged Mantis, right? Fang, lead the way."
Fang: "…"
The other monsters: "…"
'Wait, if this is what war looks like… what do you even need us for?!'
Though confused, Fang let out a shrill squeak and led the roaring army onward.
To "guide the way."
Meanwhile, deep within the Monster Association,
Inside a vast rocky chamber, a massive levitating sofa-throne hovered in the air.
On it lounged a plump, pinkish-purple, four-armed cyclops,
The dragon-level monster, Evil Eye.
Eight tiny eye-stalks on her head twitched faintly, releasing faint psychic waves.
Two short arms were clasped together before her chest, like some meditating commander; the other two rested lazily on the throne's arms.
Before her stood a tall, muscular insectoid monster, its body sheathed in green chitin that gleamed with metallic menace.
Three main eyes formed a triangle across its face, flanked by two smaller ones scanning the surroundings.
Razor claws, serrated mandibles, and vibrating wings tucked beneath its carapace gave off a chilling aura of controlled power.
This was one of the Association's elite, the Bug God.
"So, what you're saying, Evil Eye… is that you want me to go kill this upstart who doesn't know his place?"
The Bug God's raspy voice oozed menace as all five of his eyes glowed red, his tone laced with bloodthirsty delight.
Lately, rumors had been flying across the Association; a nobody had started an all-out war in the lower ranks.
In just a few days, more than a dozen minor factions were wiped out.
Dozens of tiger-level monsters are dead, and several thousand of wolf-level monsters along with them.
Even Evil Eye, or rather Psykos, found it troublesome.
She didn't care about low-level monsters dying, but they were still resources. Cannon fodder should at least die usefully, preferably in some "near-death evolution" miracle.
This guy was just wasting potential.
"Hmm… perhaps we don't need to act that aggressively," Evil Eye muttered.