The First Morning Drill

Kicking frantically mid-air, I managed to steady myself before landing. Though my landing was rough, I was lucky enough to avoid injury. Hachii Jinfuu fared no better; though he was skilled in martial arts, there was no matching human strength against the high-tech prowess of powered armor. After I was struck back, he too took a blow to the arm from Remington, the giant African-American man in the armor. I could even hear the brittle crack—a clear signal that Hachii Jinfuu's arm was now useless. "It's life or death now!" I quickly swallowed the berserker pill. A flood of primal fury ignited in my heart, my eyes glowing blood-red, transforming me into something unrecognizable. With inhuman speed, the blade of my ancient Moonblade cleaved through the air, breaking the sound barrier as it sliced into Remington. My speed, strength, and agility increased exponentially. While Remington's powered armor enhanced his strength, it couldn't accelerate his reflexes. With every amplified attribute at my disposal, he could barely keep up, forced to raise his armored arms defensively as my blade cut relentlessly. After over ten ferocious slashes, he finally faltered, and I slashed clean through his armored elbow joint, severing both armor and arm. "Fool, die!" The berserker pill had unleashed a ferocity deep within me, and with a fierce roar, I delivered my ultimate strike. "Spare me!" Remington suddenly cried out, trying to leap back, but it was too late. My blade, honed by twelvefold dynamic vision, found the vulnerable seam in his armor. With a sickening crunch, his helmet split from his shoulder, along with his head.

"Wang Lin is victorious!… Come on, take out another one! Keep going—it's thrilling!" The crowd roared in frenzied excitement, no one mourning the dead Remington; they were all here for blood. The berserker pill's potency slowly faded, leaving my eyes bloodshot and my mind gripped with a single thought: "Kill, kill, kill…" Turning my blade, I charged like a storm toward the two remaining foes. In those brief moments, my heightened perception detected dozens of high-heat objects whizzing toward me. Under the berserker state, my instincts alone guided me; with a swift arc of the Moonblade, I deflected the oncoming bullets, metallic clangs ringing out as they scattered to the ground. I glimpsed two terror-stricken faces before crimson splashes filled my vision. I turned slowly, blood-soaked blade in hand, and even the relentless killer Jack took a step back, unable to bear my murderous gaze. In the crowd, only a few hardened criminals could meet my eyes without fear, while the others felt a cold dread settle deep in their bones, rooting them in terror.

"Sorry to have taken your share, Jack. I'll leave the next one for you!" I patted his shoulder with a faint smile and turned away. After killing three people, the release granted by the berserker pill gave me a brief moment of clarity. When I realized I'd killed four men in mere minutes, including Mozz, whom I'd kicked to death, a deep sense of panic welled up inside me. I was frightened! I was only a high school student—my nature fundamentally different from these hardened killers of Demon Isle. While I knew the law had no hold here, an ingrained fear of authority remained, leaving me shaken. I was an ordinary person, not hardened for this kind of psychological strain. If the berserker pill weren't still in effect, I might have broken down crying, disgracing myself entirely. Thus, I needed to distance myself from the others, lest they notice my weakness. This mercenary camp was a brutal lair of beasts, where only the strong and ruthless survived; the weak were torn apart.

Returning to my tent, I felt the berserker pill's aftereffects seeping in. Its domineering surge, which had initially masked the pain, was now vanishing, leaving every inch of my body throbbing as though my muscles and bones were shattered, and nerves ablaze. Though I wanted to scream from the agony, fear of the merciless killers around me kept my mouth clamped shut. I bit down on a torn piece of my bedsheet, muffling my cries as I endured the torture. Healing cards worked painstakingly slowly, and I could only grit my teeth and cling to the sheer will to survive. Hachii Jinfuu never returned that night, and I drifted in and out of painful sleep. Opening my eyes, I found the camp still shrouded in darkness, likely around three or four in the morning. Most of the pill's effects had subsided, though my body ached terribly. Recalling tales of martial artists using inner energy to heal, I gave it a try, circulating the nameless technique. A cold, chilling force coursed through my body, easing the discomfort as it flowed through my yin and yang channels. When the energy completed a full cycle, I finally felt refreshed and calm, the violent thoughts ebbing away.

Once calm, I opened the Demon's Ledger to check my spoils. Remington's demon card account held only about 300,000, and his cards were useless to me. The powered armor, showing damage over forty percent, was also unusable, leaving me seething. "That fool deserved to die—was this broken armor truly all he had?"