Hunters gathered around the map, their voices a low murmur of strategy and fear. Priceless stood at the center, her forefinger pressed against the worn animal skin, tracing the path to Rocky Hills.
"The other gangs have already set out." Her voice was calm. Measured. "The road isn't that dangerous. We can remain behind and go alone without issue."
"So when are we setting out?" a hunter asked.
"During the night. We move without rest. And once we arrive, we stay at the rear."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"But that'll make it hard for us to land a kill," another hunter protested. "Or even get any beast meat."
Priceless raised her head. Her eyes swept the faces before her.
"It's better than having our hunters die meaningless deaths." Her voice hardened. "First, the armadillo is Sacred rank. I'm sure you all know what that means. Second, war might break out between every major gang. And we all know the sure course of war always leads to Lion's Dude."
The name hung in the air like smoke.
Shanyuan leaned forward. His black mask hid his expression, but his eyes were cold. Calculating.
"So what's the plan?"
Priceless glanced at his face, then back to the map.
She paused. Her lips curved.
"You did well yesterday. Your improvement has spiked."
A compliment. Rare. Calculated.
She rose her head and smiled.
"Now, the plan is simple. Everyone keeps their eyes on the target. The one who lands the final blow—we retrieve him immediately."
She paused.
"We don't get the beast meat. But we get a beast soul. Worth millions of DCs."
Whispers spread through the hunters like fire through dry grass. Agreements. Nods. Greed glittering in their eyes.
They began to move.
Rocky Hills — Hours Later
The terrain was brutal.
Hunters marched through the rocky landscape, their boots grinding against stone. Metal arrows rained down on every beast that came their way—a relentless barrage of death. They moved like a war machine, unstoppable, cutting through anything that dared approach.
Until they arrived.
Roar!
The sound tore through the air. The ground vibrated beneath their feet. Trees shook. Stones rattled.
Calvin swallowed hard.
His hands trembled. Sweat dripped down his face, soaking his headband, stinging his eyes. He had joined one of Lion's Dude's squads just for this hunt—a decision he was already regretting.
Hundreds of hunters and thugs had been placed at the front line. Forced to fight. Forced to die.
His fingers gripped the metal sword in one hand. A bow and arrow in the other. Both shaking.
He was not ready for this.
All hunters halted.
Silence fell like a shroud.
Everyone was both frightened and ready.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
BOOM!
Boulders flew into the air. Trees shattered like glass. The ground heaved and split open.
Screams erupted.
Hunters fell—crushed, swallowed, torn apart as a massive giant ball rose from the earth.
Calvin was flung high into the air. So high that the world became a blur of sky and stone and blood. He dropped like a stone.
THUD.
His head hit the ground.
Blood flowed from his skull.
His eyes closed.
Hunters from the rear sensed the change in the air. The atmosphere shifted—heavy with dread.
Faint noises echoed from the front. Cries. Screams. The sound of death.
Minutes passed.
Then—
RUN!
"What the hell—" a hunter started.
But the crowd was already fleeing. Hundreds of men and women scrambling, falling, trampling each other in their desperation to escape.
Arrows flew through the air—a desperate volley aimed at the giant ball.
Fifty meters high.
Racing toward them.
Unstoppable.
Thwack!
Crush!
Twack!
Bodies were ground to paste. Blood painted the ground in crimson streaks as the armadillo kept rolling—non-stop, relentless, a living disaster.
Giant trails formed behind it, carved into the earth like the scars of a dying world.
"It's unstoppable!" a hunter screamed. "Nothing is working!"
"Die! Die! DIE!" another shrieked, his voice swallowed by the crunch of bone.
Blood filled everywhere. The armadillo grounded people into memory—into nothing.
Lion's Dude watched from the rear.
His red hair gleamed under the dying light. His arms were crossed. His face was calm.
"Is that it?" he asked.
"Yeah," one of his hunters replied. "That's it."
Lion's Dude's lips curled.
"Good."
Golden light shot into the sky like lightning. Heavy wind blasted across the battlefield. Giant arms spread—covered in black fur—followed by massive legs.
Lion's Dude had transformed.
His Sacred rank black ape beast soul took form. Thirty meters of muscle and rage. His roar shook the heavens.
ROAR!
Hunters retreated. Scrambled. Watched.
He cracked his knuckles. The sound echoed like thunder.
"Okay," he muttered. "Here I come."
He boosted.
His feet carved giant potholes into the earth. The ground cratered beneath his weight.
ARRRGGGHH!
His fist met the armadillo with explosive force.
BOOM!
Wind blasted outward. Sharp enough to shatter nearby trees. His skin burst. Blood sprayed.
But the armadillo slowed.
It had stopped rolling.
"Now!" Lion's Dude roared. "FIRE! "
Hunters summoned their soul weapons. Thousands of arrows and spears of every rank—low mythic, high epic, sacred—flew through the air like rain.
They struck the armadillo.
Scratches.
Nothing more.
"Shit!" Lion's Dude snorted.
He landed another blow.
BOOM!
The armadillo came to a halt.
The giant ape panted. Smoke rose from his fist. His chest heaved.
Rumble.
The ground creaked. Shook.
"Hey!" a hunter pointed. "Look—it's rising!"
Lion's Dude stepped back.
The armadillo rose to its full height.
A mountain of armor and rage. Its eyes burned with grief and fury—ancient, wounded, hungry.
"What the—"
BOOM!
The armadillo's claw slammed into his jaw before he could finish.
Lion's Dude flew through the air—massive, helpless—and crashed into the earth. The ground cratered around him.
BOOM!
Another claw. Another blow. Hunters shattered beneath the impact.
BOOM!
"Shit!" Lion's Dude groaned.
He staggered to his feet. Blood poured from his mouth. His body screamed.
The armadillo was already reaching for him.
It grabbed him by the neck.
BOOM!
It flung him down like garbage.
End of Chapter Twenty.