Specialist.

"Kill her!"

"We want some blood!"

"Pulverize that stupid bitch!"

"Come on, I bet a lot of money on this fight. Don't fail me, Heatwave!"

Words were being thrown around, people screaming at the top of their lungs just to get a word out to the participant they gambled almost all their money on.

Their energy was fired up with cigarettes, hard drugs, and liquor.

One could literally smell the pills and the suffocating smoke of burning weed staining the atmosphere.

The entire room, the size of a grand hall, was radiating with people's energy.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the center of the room, where a large cage stood.

It was a ring occupied by two individuals battling their hearts out in a brutal brawl of strength and fists.

The main goal was to hit your opponent until they could no longer fight—if not up to the moment someone dropped dead.

Well, the prizes on the line were quite enticing, so they would want to give it their all.

The two radiated raging energy, even though they were seriously injured—but not to the point it was fatal.

One exuded a purple aura pouring out of her body like a waterfall.

Sharp blades for claws, three inches long, were stained with her opponent's blood, probably mixed with hers.

The other expelled a kind of orange aura. Strangely enough, it wasn't pouring out like the other but instead flowing through her arms and legs.

'Hm, she must be a strength-type champion,' Evan thought.

This was a tough opponent she was facing, although not as strong as Slicer and definitely not even able to be matched with Azrael, extremely strong opponents she had faced yet survived.

Compared to the one before her, it was nothing.

'Now that we had a little brawl, I now understand the tactic Heatwave is using.'

'If Azrael was here, he would find such a tactic stupid, the tactic to wear your opponent down to easily defeat them,' Evan thought.

Well, it wasn't wise in a battle where you know nothing about your opponent to just decide to fight until they end up exhausted.

Even if you have a high amount of stamina, you don't know what techniques your opponent has as a last-ditch move.

Weapons were not allowed, so Evan couldn't end this with the dragon slayer sword.

She had to put all the training that was integrated into her head as a hunter in the wild to her advantage.

Squatting at a 90-degree angle, energy charged up in her thighs, veins popped out, begging to be released.

'Well, the first acting poison from my claws should have weakened her a little, though not that effective due to how much energy is flowing through her that nullies the effect a little, just slowing it down.'

'I just need to strike her once again, deep into the flesh.'

At that moment, Heatwave made a move of her own, leaping into the air and coming down with an axe kick.

Evan was surprised for a moment, but she didn't falter and grabbed Heatwave's leg before it hit her.

It was at that moment she knew she had fucked up.

Because, without an ounce of mercy, Evan buried her claw into her skin and slammed her into the earth before delivering a knockout punch to the face that entombed her head in the earth.

Just like that, the match was over.

Amidst the frenzied crowd of people, most of them in tears and angry about the loss of Heatwave, whom they had placed all their money on, a black-coated man radiating a chilling presence sat with a bottle of beer in hand.

"It seems the dark emperor's pupil is quite talented, as expected of the dark god. No one is weak in his presence, kek," Velen chuckled, taking a chug of his drink.

.

.

.

At another location, in a majestic grand castle that towered over the city of Gakrak up on the mountains.

It was the first sight that grabbed attention when the entire city was surveyed—a magnificent view to behold, truly.

Inside the grand castle, in the main room that had splendor pleasing to the eye, it was beautifully decorated to fit royalty, mainly using pure gold and silver for design.

The floors themselves were made of the finest and most expensive concrete known to man; just a chip from this room could feed a family of four for a decade.

Anyways, cheap wasn't on the agenda of the one who owned this castle.

Her taste, her rules, and her words were all treated as the very doing of their creator.

When one looked in the direction opposite the gem-covered glamorous door, they would see a throne made entirely out of diamonds that lit up the room apart from the sun's rays.

Resting her ass on it was the sand goddess herself, Sandra, in a dress made with golden threads that were as light as any normal clothes but more expensive and worth as much as ten houses in the city.

"Tsk, you have been sent here by Lord Zeus himself to capture the anomaly that threatens the gods' existence, and you haven't found him yet!!" she voiced, sipping with anger, which she quickly controlled.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop her from increasing the pressure in the room with her aura upon the two who knelt before her throne.

She stared down at them from the one-metre-tall throne, her face curved with a sadistic expression meant to cause pain upon the two.

"My apologies, Your Highness. We had encountered a lead, but... unfortunately, it was lost. I have spread the other two from my party to keep watch or sense any eruption of his aura," Malaya said.

She was from the primordial race, one of the celestial races that was famous for producing excellent and powerful beings at the demigod level, which made them an unstoppable race.

However, she, from a race that had lived the longest out of any other gods, was bested by a fallen god.

How could she face the god of the primordials if she doesn't accomplish this mission?

The one behind her was Slicer, her head replaying the clash against Evan, who would have been a lead that slipped off her grasp.

She bowed her head slightly in shame.

'Bested by a mortal, damn!!'

"Well, it seems you four will just need someone more experienced with hunting to help you," Sandra said before shouting.

"Let him in!!"

The huge door to the room opened widely as a crazed-looking man, ugly to stare at but fierce, with a smirk curved on his face.

A few men followed behind, wearing ops suits similar to those of the organization that was famously known to be against the gods.

He spread out his arms before bowing like a worthless butler.

"My gracious queen, thank you for having me, heh," Gray spoke.

****