Zane pressed on with his experiment—more of a hit-and-trial approach, he thought.
The carnage didn't stop. Everything he punched became either minced meat or a crimson pool.
"This isn't working. The System's right… those 2000 points are too good for a simple quest. This is going to be tough," he muttered. "Something's missing here. I only used 3,454 kilograms… so why is the result always the same?"
A thought crossed his mind.
If it's not just about weight… maybe my arm muscles are too used to heavy loads. Even when I reduce the weight, the inertia still adds apparent force. My punch might be carrying strength I can't fully tone down. Then… what if I slap instead?
Spotting his next target—a massive red bull with attributes close to 3,490—he activated his movement skill.
In a flicker, he appeared in front of the beast. The bull snorted, exhaling red flames.
"Sorry, buddy. No need to make this harder than it has to be. Let's try fifty percent of my internal load in my palm."
His open hand struck the bull's flank.
The bull exploded into a shower of gore.
"Ah, whatever… these Early-Stage One-Star beasts are too weak for me."
Without hesitation, he moved deeper into the woods, slapping every beast he found. Each strike detonated its target like an overripe fruit under a sledgehammer.
Spectators—hidden teachers, senior students, and those watching via drone—were stunned. To them, Zane's palm looked like a weapon of mass destruction, and the hulking beasts might as well have been watermelons. Googlᴇ search novelFɪre.net
Bored of slapping, he switched to kicking. The results didn't change. Whether punch, slap, or kick—everything died instantly.
The first wave ended with one last beast meeting its end under Zane's boot.
Asphalt appeared beside him.
"Bro, are you always this strong?"
"What?" Zane glanced at him.
"I mean, every punch, slap, and kick you do turns beasts into mincemeat. My guess? You've got a Physique-type bloodline."
"Nah," Zane lied without blinking. "Just a special body enhancement skill for my muscles and bones. That's all."
"That's brutal. You should tone it down, man."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Henry Bloodgale arrived, hands dripping red. He licked the blood from his fingers.
"This is getting boring. Feels like cutting grass."
Asphalt instinctively stepped back. What's with him? This kid always makes me feel like I'm walking on eggshells.
"How's your ranking?" Zane asked with a friendly smile.
"Good for you. I'm still stuck at my earlier rank," Zane replied.
"That's because we hunt," Asphalt said, "and you… explode them like bombs."
Before Zane could answer, booming roars shook the battlefield—the six towering beasts at the rear were giving new orders.
The sound was like a jolt of pure adrenaline to the horde. Every beast whimpered in response, then their eyes turned blood red.
The second wave began to move.
This time, Zane immediately noticed—every beast in the wave was a Mid-Stage One-Star.
The other students scanned the horde from afar, mana rippling from them. Half of them frowned at the readings. Whispers turned to shouts—suggestions for a joint alliance. Within moments, they had formed one.
"Sure, they're already here. Leaving without even entering the city would be a shame," Asphalt said with a grin. "Alright, let's raise our rankings. Sayonara!"
He shot forward, diving into the hunt for corrupted beasts.
The twins spurred their mounts and rode off. Henry grinned at Zane before his figure melted into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
"System, what do I need to complete the first quest? I mean, the auxiliary quest?" Zane asked.
[This is your quest. You have to figure it out yourself.]
"Fine," Zane shrugged. "Alright, time to begin the experiment. Luminous Step!"
His figure flickered into the tide of beasts.
This time, he struck with only ten percent of his load. The result was the same—each slap detonated its target. But the more he moved, the more he learned. He began to feel the rhythm of each strike, the exact moment where strength met momentum in his palm.
Then, finally, a breakthrough—his slap landed on a red bull, and instead of exploding, the beast shuddered. Bones crumbled inside it, and it collapsed.
"Now I get it," Zane muttered, eyes gleaming. "My strength is already around 1500 points, and with the load I'm carrying, every motion—every casual gesture—packs that momentum without me realizing. That's where the explosive power comes from. But now… I can time it. I can hold it back."
He tested it again, striking a leopard. This time, the beast whimpered and dropped dead without bursting apart.
"Finally, a breakthrough," Zane grinned.
He moved toward an area thick with corrupted beasts, slapping them one after another. Each one cried out once before collapsing. He collected their core stones, working methodically.
Then he switched to punching. The moment his fist connected—boom—back to gore. No control yet. He realized he would need to teach his muscles the same precision he'd just mastered with his palms.
Before he could finish that experiment, the last beast of the wave fell to a joint assault from the other participants.
Then the roars came again—deep, thundering commands from the six Two-Star beasts at the rear. The final wave began to move.
Zane's eyes narrowed. Something was off.
The beasts should've attacked all at once… but those six are holding back, sending waves to test us. They're learning our fighting styles and strength before committing.
He scanned the battlefield. Many students were injured—some badly—but none withdrew.
"Brave… or just stupid?" he muttered, trotting toward the oncoming horde.
He wasn't wrong—those six towering beasts were studying them, measuring strength and technique with every wave.
This time, the horde charged with full force. Every beast was Late-Stage One-Star—several times stronger than anything in the earlier waves. The ground trembled beneath their advance, and their roars merged into a single wall of sound.
Zane blurred, leaving a streak of light in his wake, and reappeared beside a massive rhino-type beast. Its thick tail lashed at him like a spiked whip, barbs glinting.
He ducked low, closing the gap in a breath, and drove his fist into its flank.
The rhino erupted into gore.