Ethan spun around in a blur, his body sliding five meters back like a phantom. His grip tightened around the grocery bag, muscles coiling like steel springs.
"Damn it. Worst. Luck. Ever."
Before him stood the infamous Eight-Foot Lady—a monstrously tall woman with snow-white skin, wild beast-like eyes, and dagger-length nails. Her voluptuous frame towered over him, the desiccated corpse in her hand no heavier than a child's toy.
She chewed lazily on a chunk of flesh, her gaze locking onto Ethan with predatory hunger.
"Your flesh… smells delicious." Her voice was a sultry purr, laced with something inhuman.
Ethan's jaw clenched. Of all the horrors in Beihai City, he'd run into her—a D-class entity notorious for toying with her prey.
The Hierarchy of Horrors
This world classified supernatural threats into five tiers:
S → A → B → C → D
D-class were the "weakest." But weak was relative.
A single D-class could slaughter an armed squad.
And the Eight-Foot Lady was no exception.
At least she's flesh and blood, Ethan thought. I can hit her.
Most "Awakened" relied on esoteric powers to fight ghosts or reality-warping entities. Ethan? He had fists.
The monster sashayed forward, hips swaying like a noblewoman at a ball—if noblewomen dripped blood from their fangs.
"Pretty meat…" She tossed the corpse aside.
Three meters. Two.
Her claws gleamed under the moonlight.
Ethan moved first.
Wham!
The grocery bag exploded toward her face.
The Eight-Foot Lady swiped contemptuously, shredding it mid-air—
—just as Ethan's spear kick slammed into her chest.
Boom!
The impact would've pulverized concrete. Yet she only staggered back, leaving a single footprint dented into her pale skin.
"You DARE?!"* Her shriek scraped like nails on glass.
Ethan ignored the numbness in his leg. His fingers brushed the serrated combat knife hidden at his waist.
Then—
"ROAR!"
A tiger's snarl erupted from his throat. His body surged, mimicking the lethal pounce of a cornered beast.
Xingyi Quan: Tiger Form!
For the first time, the monster's eyes widened.
Clash of Fangs
Clang!
Sparks flew as claws met steel.
Blood sprayed.
Two figures blurred past each other.
The Eight-Foot Lady hunched over, claws dripping red. Ethan's ribs screamed—three gashes gouged deep into his torso.
But embedded in her left eye socket was his knife, its jagged edge buried to the hilt.
"AAAAAAAAAGH—!"* Her howl shook the alley.
Ethan didn't wait.
Crunch!
A second strike obliterated her remaining eye.
Kick!
His heel hammered the knife deeper—
—Pop.
The blade erupted through her skull in a geyser of brain matter.
The Eight-Foot Lady crumpled.
Aftermath
Ethan spat blood, clutching his ravaged chest. "Fcking hell. Had to double-tap a D-class?"*
Back on Earth, his martial arts could kill a man in three moves. Here? A low-tier horror nearly turned him into scrap.
Then—
Black light seeped from the corpse into his veins.
[Ding! Supernatural Hunter System activated.]
[Host has slain: D-class entity "Eight-Foot Lady."]
[Random ability drawn: D-class "Scarecrow."]
Ethan stared at his bloodied hands.
"…Well. Shit just got interesting."