"Two fourth-tier warriors, an Ascension-level mage, and... a regular person. You really think highly of me, a mere second-tier warrior."

Faced with the four individuals surrounding him, Moen sighed helplessly.

Up to now, the most troublesome enemies he'd dealt with head-on in terms of raw strength had been peak third-tier banshees.

However, every single one of these people exuded an aura far more terrifying than the banshee.

Perhaps they hadn't offered their everything to the Dark God like the banshee, gaining the kind of undying vitality immune even to decapitation. But the air of bloodlust and murderous intent they carried proved they weren't the kind of cowardly minions of the Dark God who relied solely on bestowed power. These were true outlaws who lived with their lives hanging by a thread.

Such people were often far more dangerous.

And then...

Moen glanced sideways at the priest who had been fervently praying the entire time, never once sparing him a glance and still with his back turned to him.

No matter how hard he tried to sense it, this man appeared to be an ordinary person with no trace of magic or battle aura fluctuations whatsoever.

— It was as if the words "I'm the breakthrough!" were emblazoned on his face.

But, according to typical narratives, such individuals are usually the most terrifying.

Deciding to put such thoughts aside for the moment, Moen turned back to the others.

"So... Considering all this enthusiasm, how about giving me a proper introduction?"

"Haha! Trying to die with full consciousness?"

The eerily sinister man grinned broadly. "Then let me carve my name into your memory so thoroughly that even the demons in hell will tremble when they hear it. Listen closely—my name is Barton, Barton the Corpse Splitter!"

What a ridiculously over-the-top name...

Moen's lip twitched slightly, his gaze straying to the side.

"Fular."

The woman announced her name and then fell silent.

"Hyena. The Honorable Billion Priced One."

The crazed man's voice rasped with mania. "That's what others call me. My actual name... I've long forgotten! Haha! Forgotten, forgotten!"

"The Great Lord..."

Alright, then.

A guy with delusions of grandeur.

A woman of few words.

A madman.

And... a religious zealot.

A truly perfect lineup. Too bad it seems extracting useful information from them won't be easy...

"Moen."

Just then, Lea lightly tugged at his hand and whispered softly in his ear:

"I know these people."

"Hmm?"

"I've seen their names in testimonies and reports. They're terrifying—wanted criminals notorious across the empire, even the continent."

Lea's voice trembled slightly.

"Barton the Corpse Splitter—a sadist with a penchant for drinking blood fresh from his victims and an obsession with mutilating corpses. The younger sister of the Bersha siblings—Fular, a Tower of Origin defector who killed her own teacher and numerous empire-dispatched trackers.

"And finally, the man-eating Hyena—a monster rumored to emerge from a secret experimental lab in the empire, with bloody hands stained by countless lives."

"I see..."

Moen's lips curled into a stiff smile.

"Pretty much what I expected."

After all, no one other than true outlaws would dare undertake the task of hunting down the son of a duke.

But even though he had guessed correctly, it didn't bring him a shred of reassurance.

"Looks like going head-to-head won't be the best option here."

As his gaze swept over the smug expressions of the group, Moen suddenly spoke:

"How about we have a little talk?"

"A talk?"

Barton sneered.

"What is there to talk about with prey? Are you, a 'noble' duke's son, hoping to choose how you die? Fine, then—shall we dismember you alive, or flay you first before pulling out your tendons?"

"My apologies, but neither sounds appealing. I was pampered as a child and am very sensitive to pain."

Moen shrugged, portraying a fearful nobleman's son with a facade of timidity as he blinked innocently.

"How about this—we strike a deal? You were hired for money, and I don’t want a fight. Whatever your employer offered you... I'll pay double!"

"..."

Silence instantly fell across the scene.

Fular's eyes widened abruptly, her gaze snapping toward Moen in astonishment.

Barton, who had been smirking provocatively, froze mid-thought at the audacity of Moen’s offer.

Even the Hyena began muttering numbers to himself, repeatedly whispering "two billion" as though enchanted.

The once-tense atmosphere of hostility unexpectedly eased.

"Gulp..."

Barton swallowed hard.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. Lying in such a situation wouldn't benefit me in the slightest."

"You say that, but can we get the money now?"

"Not immediately. After all, who carries that much cash on them at all times?"

Moen spread his hands, suggesting reasonability.

"You'd have to let me leave first."

"And how do we know you won't trick us?"

Barton grinned cruelly.

"I'm not stupid. Who knows if you'll walk away and have your duke father kill us later? Noble promises? Ha, as if I’d trust a word out of your mouths!"

"If you distrust me so much, why did you accept your employer's commission?"

"We don’t know much about our hirers, and... they gave us a deposit."

"...I see."

"How about this—we cut you some slack for being so... sincere. Fork over a deposit as well, and we'll believe you. Sound fair?"

Barton’s shifty gaze suddenly landed on Lea.

"You seem to care about this young lady a lot. How about you leave her with us as collateral, and then come back with the money to ransom her later? Good deal, huh?"

"Barton!"

Fular frowned but didn't stop him. Barton, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. He continued with his proposal:

"Relax, we’re different from you hypocritical nobles—we have principles. If you come back with the cash, we guarantee this beautiful, charming young lady will be… perfectly intact when we return her to you."

Eyes roving hungrily over Lea's figure, even shrouded by an oversized male cloak, Barton emphasized "perfectly intact."

"So...? Sounds like an excellent deal, doesn’t it, esteemed duke’s son?"

"...Indeed, it does sound feasible enough."

Moen pondered briefly. Smiling, he turned to Lea.

"What do you think, Lea?"

"I..."

Lea stared at Moen's gentle expression, searching for signs of insincerity but found none. Her eyes flickered with undiscernible emotions before she lowered her head, gripping her coat tightly.

"I... I can do it. If it'll help, Moen, being a hostage is no big deal."

Her voice strove for steadiness but carried a slight tremor. Her hands clenched so fiercely that her knuckles turned white.

“…Good.”

Pausing for a moment, Moen turned back again, smiling with the same calm friendliness.

"Since Lea herself agrees, there's nothing to hesitate about. I'll leave her with you temporarily and retrieve the money—A total of two billion, right? I can still scrape together that kind of small change.

"In return, though, you *must* ensure her safety and... make sure she's perfectly intact."

"Haha! I like someone who knows how to have a proper exchange. Relax—sticking with us is far safer than trailing along with some losers like you."

Barton's laughter rang, his gaze alight as he eyed Lea once more. This time, a barely perceptible smirk flickered across his lips as he deliberately extended his hand toward Moen:

"Then... deal?"

"..."

Moen remained silent for a moment before letting out a faint sigh. He seemed to have thoroughly convinced himself. Slowly, he placed his weapon, Elizabeth, back at his side, signaling his harmless intention. Only then did he cautiously step forward, reaching toward Barton.

Likewise, he stretched out his hand.

"Indeed, deal!"

In an instant.

The final echo of his words twisted and elongated unnaturally—like distorted audio on a broken device.

For now, Barton’s extended hand did not find cooperation.

But instead...

A thunder-infused… iron fist!

With an expressionless face, Moen channeled instinctual techniques into his strike; the tightly clenched vibrations of immense force gathered in a flash, crushing downward with unmeasured impact straight at Barton's throat!

The air split violently, shrieking with sheer force.

At such close range, even a seasoned fourth-tier warrior couldn’t perhaps react in time.

However... Barton's smirk never faltered.

If anything—now widened spectacularly.

*Clang!*

The deafening crash rang hollowly, like steel howling.

Moen's fist stopped mere centimeters from Barton’s throat. No matter how wildly the lightning danced upon impact... it refused to penetrate.

Simultaneously, bright red blood splattered in Moen's view, the sharp sting of pain sharpening his features slightly.

It felt like he’d struck solid steel.

"Haha! HAHAHA!"

The mockery in Barton's laugh finally spread across his face. With unparalleled sarcasm, Barton laughed heartily at the foolishness and naivety of the person in front of him.

"Hah, you foolish noble brat! HAH! The Campbell bloodline?! Child—you really thought you’d sway me with that naive proposition, didn’t you? Did you honestly think I'd believe you’d spend two billion for a *woman*? What nonsense.

"Trickery, betrayal, the casting-off of comrades—revenge afterward? Please! I’ve long played these games to perfection. And—"

Barton grotesquely licked his lips, smirk threatening concealment.

"Why bother with your ridiculous idealized plan? If I kill you now, doesn’t that already guarantee my freedom to do whatever I want to her? Why adhere senselessly?"

"..."

"HAHA! Fooled! Duped! Lowered yourselves at my masterful theatrics!! You damned nobles are still as stupid as ever.!"

Barton stared intently Moen, hoping to see shock, anger, and the uncontrollable fear on his face—the very things he loved to see. Just as his title—The Corpse Splitter, suggested, he often split his opponents in two, watching as their half-bodies crawled forward in despair, their internal organs and blood flowing onto the ground, constantly crying out for help.

That sight truly brought him the utmost pleasure and satisfaction...

But.

A hint of confusion flashed in Barton's eyes, for Moen's face did not show the expression he had hoped to see.

Instead...

A trace of mockery appeared.

"Your acting is so excellent, Mr. Barton. That's truly wonderful."

Moen still smiled, as if it were the eternal smile that had never changed.

But at this moment, that smile made Barton’s expression suddenly shift.

“You see, haven’t you been deceitful…to your companions?”

Moen’s eyes carried the same playful mockery as Barton’s, as he spoke.

Huh?

Barton whipped his head around and found Fular and Hyena somewhat dumbfounded, seemingly unable to process the sudden turn of events.

Of course. After all, they were acting. If they didn’t pause to watch closely, who could tell what these two were actually pulling off?

So...

This was the opportunity Moen had been waiting for all along!

“Lea!”

A deafening shout erupted from Moen’s chest, nearly piercing his eardrums.

In that instant.

It was as though a long-accumulated, boundless holy light descended from the heavens, surging through Moen’s every pore and flooding into his body.

A sensation of infinite fullness overwhelmed him, as though he floated amid the clouds in the sky.

With a sudden motion, Moen drew out Elizabeth, and under the same source of holy light, the pure white short blade hummed joyfully!

At this moment, the restrained fury buried deep in Moen’s eyes spilled out. In the extreme deceleration of time, the blade’s light illuminated the heavens like a cascading galaxy, fiercely falling!

Thunder.

Slash.

Ten stacks!

Boom—

The blade collided with the invisible sharp edge in front of Barton, and the turbulent energy roared like a storm.

But no matter how robust the blade may be, how could it withstand the holy light-infused Elizabeth?

In a heartbeat, blood burst forth, and a gash spanned from Barton’s feet, stretching a hundred meters into the distance.

“Damn it!”

As if the mask of a clown was ripped off, Barton’s mocking façade vanished as waves of agony surged through him, replaced by raging fury:

“You idiot! Do you think that will work? You’re nothing more than a second-tier ant!”

The space around Barton began to distort; a torrent of battle aura surged from within, forming an impenetrable barrier.

The blade’s light met the bulwark, pushing forward level by level. But ultimately, it couldn’t overcome the nearly infinite obstruction, and it dissipated gradually.

Seeing this, Moen’s expression showed a trace of helplessness.

Despite stacking so many buffs, he still couldn’t break through. This was the insurmountable gap between tiers.

Teacher Mela had once explained why she did not recommend Moen to learn high-level combat techniques. One reason was that the stronger the technique, the more reliant it was on a fourth-tier realm to unveil its true potential.

The reason lay in the transformation a warrior undergoes upon breaking into the fourth tier.

The battle aura solidifies.

Once reaching tier four, the refined battle aura is no longer merely an auxiliary energy but becomes something formidable, capable of freely taking shape—transforming into a sharp sword or an impregnable shield.

It was absurdly versatile.

No matter how many buffs were stacked, it couldn’t bridge that tier gap.

Yet Moen didn’t despair.

Because even if his raw strength was inferior, now that the pace of battle was in his hands, whether it turned into a disco dance-off or a chaotic free-for-all was entirely up to him!

Moen gripped his twin blades tighter, slashing again and again.

Again and again.

Tenfold!

Tenfold!

Tenfold!

Blood splattered, his skin cracked, but Moen didn’t care.

The thunderous resonance and the shockwaves reverberated.

With the holy light blessing him, Moen resembled an invincible workhorse, relentlessly unleashing a storm-like flurry of strikes.

The barrier of battle aura gradually weakened.

After just a few breaths, Barton faltered. He stepped back.

Once there’s one step, there will be a second, a third—and then a complete retreat.

Finally, the battle aura barrier broke entirely. Barton’s face turned pale as he spat blood, roaring in fury:

“Fular! Hyena! How long are you going to stand around watching?!”

“……”

An incantation slowly echoed. A blazing serpent of fire materialized, surging fiercely toward Moen.

Moen paid it no mind.

Because the holy light shone forth.

Sacred Protection blocked the magical attack.

But immediately after, a foul, fishy wind swept in. Razor-sharp claws tore through the holy light barrier, leaving a gruesome wound on Moen’s back.

“Ugh… Two billion! My two billion!”

Hyena shook his head in anguish, tears streaming down his face. But his deformed claws continued ripping apart layer after layer of Sacred Protection.

Each swipe of his claws left bloody wounds on Moen’s back, and a fresh green hue glimmered.

Poison.

Potent poison.

Moen coughed up blood but showed no change in expression, continuing to slash.

“It’s… it’s useless!”

Barton’s hands supported him as his feet frantically kicked, desperately dodging Moen’s attacks.

Sometimes he laughed maniacally, sometimes he showed terror, and sometimes he sneered—to an extent like a lunatic, or perhaps a clown:

“Hyena’s claws will tear you to pieces soon, Fular’s next spell will arrive soon. You can’t kill me, Moen Campbell! You can’t kill me!”

“Is that so?”

Moen glanced around briefly before suddenly pausing his actions and sighing softly:

“Looks like I really can’t kill you!”

“That’s right, that’s right!”

Seeing Moen stop, Barton’s elation surged, and he instantly grew arrogant again:

“Moen Campbell, kneel before me now, and maybe I’ll mercifully leave your corpse intact! Otherwise, you’ll experience torment worse than hell…”

“Alas, in such times, I have no choice but to…”

Moen seemed to ignore Barton’s threats entirely. He leisurely sheathed Elizabeth, casually saying:

“Unleash my ultimate move.”

“Ultimate move? You… you have an ultimate move?”

Barton’s expression froze.

“Of course.”

Moen sneered:

“Mr. Barton, surely you don’t believe that a proud duke’s son, a second-tier powerhouse capable of beating you into the ground like a dog, wouldn’t have a trump card tucked away?”

As his words fell, the powerful magic that was about to strike suddenly halted, recoiling to form a protective shield around Fular herself.

Meanwhile, Hyena—who had looked crazed moments earlier—jumped back suddenly, yelling in alarm:

“An ultimate move! Two-billion-level ultimate move! Terrifying!”

Looking at the scene, Barton nearly choked on his rage.

These two idiots chose self-preservation at the same time.

Then again, it made sense.

What was supposed to be an easy task had unveiled Moen Campbell as someone far more dangerous than anticipated.

If he could trounce Barton as casually as he had with ordinary strikes, how lethal might his so-called ultimate move be?

It wouldn’t be outlandish for his ultimate move to take down one or two of them along with it.

His earlier performance was indisputably genuine!

So at moments like this, self-preservation was the priority. Losing one of their own posed no loss to the group; it even bolstered their share of the reward!

“You… you bastards, he’s bluffing! Bluffing! He doesn't have an ultimate move!”

Barton’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he retreated furiously, wildly yelling:

“Kill him now! Kill him now!”

“Oh, Mr. Barton, if you don’t believe I have an ultimate move… then why are you so scared?”

Moen’s figure flickered, quickly catching up to the fleeing Barton, extending his arm forward and placing his palm toward him.

“Stop running and embrace my wrath, Mr. Barton!”

Moen’s expression turned cold as massive magical power swirled and gathered in his palm.

Barton’s terror reached its peak.

Yes!

He was gathering all his mana into his palm. This was the ultimate move!

He really had one!

And so, fear evolved into despair.

Barton shut his eyes tightly, awaiting death.

The others also looked grim, reinforcing their defenses.

In the depths of despair, Barton heard Moen’s reverberating shout of his ultimate move’s earth-shattering name—

“Feel my ultimate move, the Holy Light Revised · Final Demon-Piercing Blast—Lighting Spell!”

“Huh?”

Everyone simultaneously let out a stunned exclamation.

What?

Lighting Spell?

And so, as they stood dumbfounded with expressions reminiscent of clowns, brilliance as radiant as the sun burst forth from Moen's palm.

It engulfed everything.