A powerful aura surged, growing stronger by the second. Mia launched herself forward, her fist hurtling toward the burly man at lightning speed—so fast it was almost impossible to track.
The man didn't even have time to react. Her punch slammed into his chest, shattering the earthen armor covering him. His body flew backward like a kicked soccer ball, tumbling over 60 feet before crashing to the ground.
"Damn, she's strong!"
The bald man clutched his chest, coughing violently as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Half his body felt numb, and he was teetering on the edge of losing his ability to fight.
But there was no time to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia charging at him again, her figure like a relentless storm.
"Somebody stop her! Now!" he shouted in panic.
One of the Black Hand Legion members nearby immediately activated his awakened ability. With a wave of his hand, water droplets in the air froze, forming several thick ice walls to block Mia's path.
Her vision was momentarily obscured, but she didn't slow down. Raising her hand, she struck the ice walls, shattering them into countless shards.
Just then, a sharp sound of something cutting through the air reached her ears. A glint of metal flashed—an alloy dagger aimed straight for her temple.
A young man with a twisted expression lunged at her. Somehow, he had managed to sneak up on her without making a sound, likely due to his awakened ability. Now, he was launching a sudden, deadly attack.
But Mia's heightened senses, sharpened by pain, kicked in.
She raised her arm to block.
The dagger pierced through her forearm, and warm blood splattered across her pale face. The rain washed it down her cheek, dripping from her jawline.
Her wristband beeped, displaying a pain level: 36%.
Despite the injury, a crazed smile curled at the corner of her lips. Without hesitation, she swung her other fist backward, smashing the young man's skull into pieces.
As blood mist filled the air, a crystal core shot out from his shattered head.
The pain coursing through her body only seemed to fuel her. Her cells became more active, and her healing ability kicked in. The wound on her arm, where the dagger had pierced, began to scab over at a speed visible to the naked eye.
From a distance, the other Black Hand Legion members watched in horror, their hearts pounding.
"Damn... so this is the legendary Awakener from Refuge 001."
Her strength was terrifying, her resilience even more so. The stronger her opponent, the stronger she became.
"This isn't going to be an easy fight..." one of them muttered nervously.
The bald man, still struggling to catch his breath, quickly barked out orders:
"Keep your distance! Don't let her get close! Wear her down from afar—let's see how long she can keep this up!"
"Yes, sir!" the others responded in unison.
They unleashed their awakened abilities—walls of fire, ice spears, and water barriers surged toward Mia. Some focused on blocking her movements, while others aimed to attack.
Explosions erupted around her as energy attacks collided, creating shockwaves that rippled through the battlefield. The chaos intensified, the fight reaching a fever pitch.
But then, not far away, a tall figure appeared.
Dressed in a crisp white shirt, his expression was calm, almost indifferent. He walked toward the battlefield with an air of casual ease, as if he were strolling through a park. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, and he muttered to himself:
"Well, this is lively."
One of the Black Hand Legion members, a scar-faced man, noticed him immediately. The stranger's face was unfamiliar, and he clearly wasn't part of their group. Yet, he seemed completely unbothered by the chaos around him, watching the fight like it was some kind of show.
"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Scarface growled, gripping his alloy knife tightly. He charged at the newcomer, shouting, "You're dead, buddy!"
The tall man—Ethan—glanced at him, his eyes flashing with a faint red glow.
Scarface froze mid-charge, his expression twisting into one of sheer terror.
In an instant, his body exploded into a cloud of blood mist, scattering into the air.
The surrounding Black Hand Legion members stared in shock, their faces pale.
"What kind of ability is that?!"
From a distance, Sean, who had been observing the fight, broke into a grin. His sharp eyes gleamed with recognition.
"Ethan, you're here!"
"Yeah," Ethan replied casually. He had been relaxing at home when one of his subordinates reported a large-scale fight breaking out near the edge of their territory. The commotion had been loud enough to catch his attention.
He had a hunch it might involve Mia, so he decided to come and check it out.
Ethan's gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the ragged state of the refugees from the shelter. Their faces were pale, their bodies battered, and many were clearly pushing themselves far beyond their limits just to keep fighting.
Even Mia looked worse for wear—her body covered in wounds, her clothes soaked in blood. If it weren't for her strikingly delicate face, she might've been mistaken for one of the undead.
"Did you guys just survive an apocalypse or something?" Ethan asked, his tone casual.
"Well... if you put it that way, you're not wrong," Sean replied with a shrug. They had been out collecting supplies, but the journey from Santa Monica to here had been so grueling that they might as well have been refugees.
Mia's bright eyes turned toward Ethan. "You came to welcome me?"
"Where's the toll?" Ethan asked bluntly.
Mia raised her hand and pointed at the bald man and his crew ahead. "See? It's all right there."
"Oh..." Ethan nodded, scanning the group. There was quite a bit to take, he had to admit. No wonder she was being so generous. The only problem was... it still needed to be "collected."
The Black Hand Legion members frowned, exchanging confused glances.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
"Maybe he's backup from the shelter?"
"Just one guy? That's it?"
The bald man snorted dismissively. He didn't seem too concerned.
"Mia's supposed to be the strongest Awakener from the shelter. How much stronger could this guy be? Kill him!"
"Yes, sir!" the surrounding members responded, nodding in agreement. It made sense to them.
Most of them were from Santa Monica and had no idea who Ethan was.
With a roar, the group charged at him like a pack of wild beasts, and the battle resumed.
Ethan, however, remained calm, his expression unchanging. His crimson eyes glowed faintly as he activated Domain of the Dead.
A suffocating pressure erupted from him, instantly enveloping four of the attackers.
Their ferocious expressions twisted into ones of pure terror.
It felt as though a mountain had been dropped onto their backs. Their bodies were crushed under the immense force, their bones creaking and cracking as if they were about to shatter. They struggled to move, their limbs sluggish as if they were trapped in quicksand.
Ethan's figure blurred as he moved.
In an instant, he was upon them.
As he passed by, a blade—a Tachi—materialized in his hand. With a single fluid motion, he swung it toward their heads.
The blade sliced cleanly through their skulls, the sound of metal grinding against bone echoing in the air. Their heads were severed in one smooth motion, and crystal cores shot out from their shattered skulls.
Ethan caught the cores effortlessly, his hand closing around them as if it were second nature.
"If you want something done right, do it yourself..." he muttered under his breath. Pocketing the crystal cores, he continued forward without breaking stride, the Tachi still in his hand.
In the span of a few seconds, he had killed four Black Hand Legion members.
His expression remained calm, almost indifferent, as if he had just completed a mundane chore.
The bald man and his remaining crew stared at him, their eyes wide with shock. A deep sense of unease crept over them, their instincts screaming that something was very, very wrong.
The way Ethan had killed—his movements, his precision—it was far too practiced. This wasn't someone who fought zombies or mutated beasts. This was someone who had killed people—and done it often.
"W-who the hell are you?" the bald man stammered, his voice trembling with fear.
Ethan glanced at him lazily, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.
"Don't worry," he said, his tone calm and almost reassuring. "I'm just here to collect the toll."