"Hmm… actually, there's no need to be that aggressive."
Used to the Bug God's violent, battle-hungry temperament, Evil Eyes twitched.
A telepathic voice wrapped in psychic energy echoed from all directions: "I've seen that little guy. The potential it's shown is quite interesting. Personally, I'd like to see how far it can go."
As Evil Eyes spoke, a bundle wrapped in telekinesis floated toward the Bug God, a cloth bag tied shut.
"Here's the deal, Bug God."
"You'll deliver this to him for me, and remind that bug of yours to keep his juniors in line."
Evil Eyes' voice was calm, "If he wants to claim more territory and followers, that's fine. But those lower-level monsters still have their uses. I don't want them all slaughtered so easily."
"That's all. Pass my message along."
The Bug God was silent for a moment. Then he took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Understood. I'll handle it."
He strode out of the hall, the scraping of his carapace echoing softly.
"So… a rookie favored by Evil Eye, huh? I hope this little guy gives me a surprise."
In the underground world, another monster territory was on the verge of collapse.
With a single crushing grip, Hans's claws clenched tight, the tiger-level monster's skull exploded like a watermelon, splattering red and white gore everywhere. The rule of yet another boss had ended under his brutal hand.
Not that Hans was here to "liberate" anyone.
As usual, he wiped out most of the monsters in the area, his black armor soaked in blood of all shades, until the survivors trembled in terror.
[Tiger-level monster killed ×7 , Source Points +231]
[Wolf-level monster killed ×437 , Source Points +1183]
After all, Psykos could be watching from the shadows at any moment, and Hans didn't want to completely ruin her fun.
Hey, he did leave… half of them alive.
Unfortunately, the weak ones down here weren't worth much.
After days of nonstop slaughter, Hans had already destroyed much of the "chaotic ecosystem" that the Monster Association deliberately maintained at the lower levels, yet his total Origin Point gains barely matched what Little Eye delivered him in a single feeding.
He did, however, manage to find several dozen "Monster Cells" in the dens of defeated tiger-level leaders. Naturally, he kept them all for himself.
After all that effort for such measly returns, Hans couldn't help but feel a sudden urge to find Orochi and take a big bite out of him.
Now that would be some fresh, high-quality Monster Cells!
"Fang," Hans said, exhaling a searing breath that burned away the grime on his claws, "same as always, round up a few tiger-level bosses to take in the survivors."
He added casually, "And make sure to search their hideouts for any Monster Cells. Bring them to me."
"Yes, sir! I'll make sure everything's done perfectly!"
Fang scurried off, barking orders with his usual swagger.
Even though every tiger-level monster there could crush him easily, none dared defy the rat monster; after all, his power came from Hans himself.
As Hans watched his underlings get to work, he turned his gaze ahead.
According to Fang's intel group, further up the tunnels lay the den of a demon-type monster, the strongest beings in this entire sector besides Hans himself.
The monsters of the Association came in all shapes and kinds, but they could still be roughly categorized.
Some were mutated humans, evolved creatures, psychics, spiritual entities, divine vessels, or special lifeforms.
Others could be grouped by species: Bugs, beasts, sea folk, demons, ghosts, rocks, plants, or even ugly monsters.
Many banded together by race or type, while others roamed solo.
The monster who lived ahead, known as "Mountain Child," was a solitary ghost-type who could control the earth and stone veins underground.
Demon-level battles were not something cannon fodder could interfere with; still, Hans chose a few tiger-level fighters to accompany him.
As the boss, he'd handle the main fight.
If the target had any treasure, well… that's what subordinates were for.
And if Mountain Child's ability turned out to be useful, Hans figured he still had plenty of skill slots open.
The path to the mine wasn't hidden; in fact, it was a bit too open. Rough digging marks scarred the walls, and the air was thick with the dusty smell of pulverized rock.
Hans led five tiger-level monsters forward at a steady pace.
All five were survivors from his recent conquest, monsters who had seen the carnage firsthand. They knew their new boss's power and ruthlessness well enough not to dare any disobedience.
"Boss," said a boar monster with thick fur and tusks, whispering nervously, "according to the prisoners we caught, this is where that ghost-level monster 'Mountain Child' makes his lair."
The group came to a halt near the cave mouth.
From the shadows ahead, something emerged, a black creature, its appearance so crudely drawn it looked like a half-finished doodle.
It had no neck; its head was fused directly to its body.
Its limbs were ridiculously short.
Its pale, squished face looked like a clown from a bad stage play.
It was idly picking its teeth with some creature's bone.
If Hans had seen this thing in a manga panel, he might've laughed.
But here, in this world, he felt a chill crawl up his spine.
His instincts screamed a universal truth known to all seasoned travelers between worlds:
The uglier the drawing, the faster it kills.
Just look at the two most "simplistic" looking monsters in existence, Bald Cape Man and Terrible Tornado.
And now, facing this one, Hans recognized him immediately.
The Monster Association's dragon-level executive, a being with 54 trillion clones, each strong enough to defeat an A-level hero on its own, black Sperm.
Judging by his appearance, Hans guessed the demon-level Mountain Child was already dead.
That bone in Black Sperm's hand? Probably the proof.
Hans's thoughts raced, but he kept his face calm.
With an opponent of this level, the slightest hint of hostility could mean instant death.
"Oh? A bunch of people, huh," Black Sperm muttered after finishing his dental work, tossing the bone aside. His beady little eyes swept lazily over the group.
"Pfft. Where'd all these scrubs come from?"
"Hey, you guys, what are you doing here?"
The tone was casual, almost lazy, completely devoid of the oppressive aura one would expect from a dragon-level monster.
Hans took a step forward, bowing slightly, his voice respectful but steady:
"I am Lord Pochi's personal chef. By order of Evil Eye, I'm here searching for fresh ingredients for Lord Pochi's meals."
"Oh? Pochi's chef?"
Black Sperm leaned closer, sniffing Hans carefully, then sighed with mild regret.
"Tsk… yeah, you do smell like that stupid dog."
"What a waste, though. All that fine protein…"
Hans: "???"