The mere thought of being blown to bits by a casually passing bald guy, or crushed flat by Tatsumaki while she obliterated everything in her path, sent an involuntary chill racing down Hansen's spine.
Gulp...
He swallowed hard, eyes narrowing with grim determination. "No way. I've got to gather intel and power up fast!"
Once motivated, Hansen was the type to flip a switch and execute at full throttle. Without wasting another second, he oriented himself and set off in the direction he had come from, his movements decisive and sharp.
In an instant, his obsidian-black figure, lined with glowing red veins, melted into the shadows of the long corridor.
...
The trip back was surprisingly uneventful. No clueless monsters stepped out to pick a fight or block his way.
After a moment's reflection, Hansen figured out why.
Of course, it made perfect sense. Any area where Overgrown Rover wandered was a guaranteed deathtrap. Even monsters with half a brain would avoid it on instinct alone, terrified of becoming a mid-meal snack for a Dragon-class beast.
As he continued forward, the air grew thicker and more repulsive. The stench became nearly unbearable, like a sewer overloaded with decaying blood, sour rot, and the stomach-turning reek of half-digested meat. The lighting gradually brightened up ahead, revealing a massive underground hall roughly the size of a soccer field.
This was one of the central hubs where low-tier monsters gathered to receive assignments or simply loiter around. Within the wide, open space, hundreds of grotesque monsters stood, crouched, or slithered about, each one weird in a different, stomach-churning way.
Most of them were Wolf-tier, their bodies twisted and deformed beyond recognition. Some resembled oversized insects; others mimicked mutated beasts. A few were horrid amalgamations of organic matter and rusted machinery, while others could barely be called anything beyond shapeless, quivering piles of meat.
Flickering overhead lights cast long, erratic shadows across the chamber, the flicker adding an extra layer of madness to the already nightmarish scene. Scattered among the chaos were a few Tiger-tier monsters, keeping to themselves and guarded by clusters of Wolf-tier underlings who watched them with a toxic blend of awe and terror.
As for the truly elite, the Demon-tier and Dragon-tier monsters, none were present. Monsters like Rover didn't waste their time in places like this. They had their own domains and didn't mingle with the fodders. Right now, this space showcases the daily existence of the Monster Association's lower ranks in full.
In one corner, a group of hyena-like creatures snarled and snapped as they fought over a chunk of rotting organ meat that may have belonged to something human, or worse. Near the center, a mantis-type monster and a scorpion-like one were locked in an all-out brawl. Their claws, scythes, and stingers flew at blinding speeds, leaving severed limbs and splattered viscera flying in all directions.
Not far from the carnage, a fly-headed freak with bulbous, twitching compound eyes was cackling loudly as he bragged to his huddle of skittish lackeys about how many humans he'd butchered on his last mission.
Chaotic. Vicious. Disgusting. This was the lower tier of the Monster Association in its rawest, most savage form.
The moment Hansen entered the hall, he caught the attention of nearly everyone there. But it wasn't just the subtle hint of Tiger-tier strength he carried; it was the oppressive aura radiating from him, faint yet unmistakable.
A lingering trace of Dragon-tier pressure.
A suffocating, death-soaked intensity that reeked of pure annihilation.
Silence fell like a hammer. Every voice, every clash, every movement... stopped.
In that moment, the entire underground chamber fell into complete silence. Dozens of eyes, murky, crimson, and gleaming with malice, turned as one and locked onto Hansen, who had just stepped through the entrance.
The mix of shock, suspicion, confusion, greed, and fear was palpable in their gazes. Apparently, the residual pressure left by Rover on Hansen's body worked far better than expected. Just as that thought flashed through his mind, a movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention.
A mantis-type monster, after a brief pause of stunned hesitation, suddenly moved. Without warning, it swung one of its sharp, sickle-like limbs and impaled a rabbit-faced creature nearby, one that had frozen in sheer terror. Lifting it into the air effortlessly, the mantis bit off its head with a casual crunch, then dragged the twitching corpse into the shadows to feast.
Hansen stared in silence.
So this was what workplace bullying evolved into here. Cannibalism.
His mouth twitched slightly, both disgusted and resigned. If anything, it only deepened his understanding of how brutal survival truly was in the Monster Association.
Just then, a low gurgling sound broke the tense atmosphere, like thick bubbles rising from stagnant water. A deep voice echoed from the back of the hall, where a crude but massive stone throne stood elevated above the crowd.
"Strange...?! How is that piece of trash still alive?!"
Immediately, the gathered monsters stepped aside, clearing a path without hesitation. One sluggish creature, too slow to react, was sent flying with a thunderous crash as a massive figure stomped forward from the throne.
The newcomer was nearly three meters tall, with a grotesquely oversized octopus head that dripped with slime. Its bloated humanoid torso was supported by eight massive tentacles extending from its back, each squirming and twitching restlessly, covered in suction cups that pulsed with a nauseating wetness.
Hansen came to a halt, his expression hardening, eyes narrowing. He recognized this creature. Slime Octopus.
A Tiger-level monster and the strongest in this particular area. According to the rules laid out by Gyoro Gyoro, different monster tiers had different functions: Dragon-level monsters served as officers, while Demon-level and above held specialized combat or research positions. Lower tiers, like Slime Octopus, were often tasked with logistical support or grunt labor. This thing, specifically, was responsible for delivering meals to Rover.
And it was because of a single offhand remark from this thing that Hansen, along with four others, had been sent off to die as Rover's snack. Now, seeing it up close again, a flicker of killing intent surged through Hansen's eyes. The crimson lines on his black faceplate glowed with a slow, ominous rhythm, like the beat of a living heart.
"Who are you calling trash?" Hansen crossed his arms.
"Obviously you, trash! Uh…?" Slime Octopus snapped back reflexively but paused mid-sentence. Something felt off. But it was already too late to backpedal. Then again, intelligence wasn't exactly a common trait among monsters of this level.
Sure, a Tiger-tier threat like Slime Octopus could withstand modern human firepower, even full-on military assault, but within the Monster Association's brutal hierarchy, that only put it slightly above the bottom rung. It was still just fodder. Oblivious to the rising danger, Slime Octopus retracted its tentacles, letting out a thick, wet sound, and gave a grotesque grin.
"Keh keh keh! Kid, you must've gotten real lucky to make it back alive from Lord Rover."
He stepped forward, massive and deliberate. His eight twitching tentacles began to rise around his bloated body, unfurling slowly as he tried to assert dominance through sheer height and Tiger-tier pressure. Towering over three meters tall, he radiated a heavy aura designed to smother resistance before it could start.
"Since you're back, stay in your damn place!"
One tentacle lazily scooped up a severed arm left from some unlucky creature and shoved it into the gaping mouth beneath his dripping head. Wet chewing sounds echoed through the air, fluids spraying from between his lips and splashing onto the floor.
"Tomorrow's delivery job... keh keh keh, that's still on you!"
That smug tone, drenched in cruelty and condescension, only deepened the chill in Hansen's eyes. This bastard wasn't just conveniently neglecting to mention the promised reward, Monster Cells, from the last suicide mission. He was deliberately shoving Hansen into another trap, treating him like a disposable pawn while planning to keep the payoff for himself.
A dry, low chuckle rose from behind Hansen's mask. It wasn't loud, but it carried heat like coals stirred in a fire.
"What are you laughing at?!"
Slime Octopus's grotesque features twisted with offense. Being mocked by someone he thought of as expendable was infuriating.
Without hesitation, all eight tentacles snapped outward. The suction cups along their lengths opened up to reveal rows of vicious, needle-like teeth, enough to make anyone with trypophobia recoil in horror.
"You got a problem with your superior's orders?!"
Boom!
His Tiger-tier aura exploded outward without restraint, releasing a wave of rank, blood-soaked wind that swept across the chamber like a shockwave.
The surrounding monsters scattered with trained reflexes, clearing out the space as if guided by instinct. Their movements opened up a natural arena between the two, and their hungry eyes gleamed with anticipation. The scent of violence thickened the air.
Even though Gyoro Gyoro managed things behind the curtain, low-tier monsters obeyed a far simpler code down here.
No rules. No order. No structure.
Only one law mattered: might made right.
The strong crushed the weak. The strong claimed what they wanted.
Psykos didn't bat an eye, no matter how many low-tier monsters perished each day. They were easily replaceable.
So when someone stole your rations, invaded your turf, or insulted you, there was no need to negotiate. You fight. You kill. That was just how things worked. Survival through violence.
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