Despite the drunkard's abrasive tone, he spoke for the crowd. Most of the veterans here had once entertained thoughts of venturing into the Deep Zone, but those who tried quickly realized the chasm in difficulty.
The Spirits in the Deep Zone were not only stronger but possessed a nascent intelligence—comparable to a child of ten. They wouldn't just charge blindly like the mindless husks in the outer rim; they used tactics, ambushes, and most importantly, they used ordinary Demi-Humans as hostages.
While humans and Demi-Humans were different races, their lives were largely intertwined. In this world, bloodline powers were often dormant, and the difference between an average Demi-Human and an average human was purely aesthetic. For Exorcists, hunting was a job, but many had Demi-Human spouses—after all, who doesn't like beast ears or tails?
This made the veterans hesitant, but the real barrier wasn't empathy—it was raw power.
Name: Hisato Tsuruyama Gender: Male Rank: Level 3 Combatant Ability: [Locked/Private]
Alistair scrolled through the app he had just downloaded. It was intuitive, automatically reading his location to display local data. The drunkard was listed as a Level 3. Based on Hwa's explanation, Level 3 meant he was at roughly 30% of the Path of Transcendence.
Weak, Alistair concluded.
Most of these government hunters used "standard" cultivation methods inherited from the golden age of magic. Back then, "Idealism" and mana abundance made growth rapid. Now, "Materialism" dominated, and mana was only just beginning to recover. Without the "shortcuts" like Alistair's path of carnal indulgence or the cult's exploitation of desire, a standard hunter would take years to reach Level 5. To Alistair, these men were practically static.
"Hey! Rookie! What's with that look? You mocking me?" The drunkard slammed his fist on the table, sensing Alistair's utter lack of respect. He didn't move to attack, however, proving Hwa's point: they didn't kill their own.
Click. Alistair didn't even look back. He opened the door and stepped out. He had no use for these people.
"Seems your little test failed," the long-haired youth noted, patting the drunk's shoulder. "It wasn't that he was calm—he just didn't see you as worth his time."
"I know," the drunk grumbled, sinking back into his chair. "He's got that look. Not arrogant, just... indifferent. Like I'm a fly buzzing around a statue."
"Old drunk, a piece of advice," a girl with a bob cut spoke up from her coffee. "Don't touch him. If you do, you won't even have time to regret it."
"What? Did you use your ability?" The drunkard turned to her.
"I did." The girl bit her lip, her hands trembling. Her "Weapon" was a set of Scales that weighed the combat potential of two sides. It didn't give numbers, but it could calculate if a group could tip the balance against a single target with enough "weight."
"Well? Could I take him? Did I lose badly in the simulation?"
"The Scales only work if the gap between two targets is within a measurable range," she whispered, her eyes vacant.
"Wait... are you saying I'm too weak for him to even measure?"
The girl shook her head. "No. I'm saying that even if I put everyone in this café on one side of the scale, it wouldn't move an inch against him."
The air in the café froze.
Meanwhile, on a rooftop nearby, a girl with a black feather tucked into her hair lay soaking up the sun.
"Interesting. A young man on the verge of breakthrough... does he have a powerful master?" She chuckled, then walked to the edge to look down at Alistair.
Suddenly, Alistair's gaze snapped up, locking onto her.
He saw me? Her body stiffened. Her concealment was top-tier—even the Headmistress struggled to spot her. How can a human see me?
As she stared into his eyes, she saw a golden radiance surging within his pupils. It wasn't human.
A Dragon? she thought, her breath hitching. No, Dragons are extinct here. A Dragonkin, then? But this pressure...
The "Dragon Fear" Alistair radiated, even suppressed, made her lungs feel like they were collapsing. She couldn't move a muscle.
Alistair retracted the pressure and kept walking. He figured she was just a scout. She didn't have any animal traits, just the feather—likely a specialized race.
"Hah... hah..." The girl collapsed onto the roof, drenched in sweat. "A Dragonkin... no, I have to tell Sister. There's a Dragon among the humans."
She sprouted black wings and took flight, hurtling toward a massive, lush campus: The Academy of Elves.
She burst into an office where two women were waiting. One was her sister, Karasuba, tall and slender with a similar feather. The other was a voluptuous, blonde-haired Wood Elf with long, pointed ears and a body that oozed raw, maternal sensuality.
"Maruha? Why so frantic?" Karasuba asked.
"A Dragon! Sister, I found a Dragonkin at the human base!"
The blonde Elf stood up, her ample chest swaying. She placed two fingers on Maruha's forehead, closing her eyes to share the memory. When she opened them, her expression was one of intense, hungry excitement.
"It wasn't a Dragonkin," the Elf smiled.
"Then it's nothing to worry about?" Karasuba asked.
"No. It's much better. It was a True Dragon."
"What?! A True Dragon in a human body?"
"Yes. And better yet," the Elf's voice dropped to a sultry whisper, "it's a Fledgling. A young, unrefined male."
"You... you're not thinking of 'harvesting' him for the race, are you?" Karasuba asked.
"Why not? Our Elf population is dwindling. We built this Academy to find superior genetic stock. Dragons are compatible with everything. Imagine... a Dragon-blooded Elf. Or a Dragon-blooded Liberi. The potential for 'breeding' is limitless."