Just thinking that he could be casually punched into paste by a passing bald guy… or accidentally crushed under Tornado's telekinetic "gardening" made Hans shiver uncontrollably.
Gulp, He swallowed hard, his eyes growing serious.
"No way! I need to gather intel and get stronger, fast!"
Once he set his mind on something, Hans's drive kicked in instantly. He didn't waste another second; he oriented himself and strode off in the direction he'd come from.
In moments, his black, crimson-veined body vanished into the darkness at the end of the tunnel.
The journey back was smooth; he didn't encounter any other clueless monsters along the way.
After a moment's thought, Hans realized why.
'Of course. Pochi's territory was a forbidden zone for the average monster.'
'Anyone with a brain avoided it, afraid they'd end up as snacks on the side of the road.'
The further he walked, the stronger the stench became, like a sewer mixed with blood and rot. The air reeked of waste, acid, and half-digested flesh.
Up ahead, the light grew brighter until an enormous underground chamber opened before him, roughly the size of a football field.
This was one of the Monster Association's lower-level gathering zones, where lesser monsters met, traded, and picked up jobs.
Hundreds of monsters of all shapes and sizes filled the area, most of them wolf-class.
Some looked like giant insects, some like mutated beasts, others like mechanical carcasses stuffed with flesh, and a few were just heaps of pulsing meat.
Under the dim ceiling lights, shadows twisted across the walls.
A handful of tiger-class monsters sat apart, each claiming their own corner and surrounded by trembling wolf-class lackeys.
As for the Association's real backbone, the demon-class or dragon-class executives, not a single one was here.
The strong had their own domains, just like Pochi. None of them would stoop to mingle with these bottom-feeders.
The usual chaos of the Monster Association played out before him:
In a corner, several hyena-like creatures were fighting over a chunk of rotten innards, snarling and biting.
In the center, a mantis monster and a scorpion monster clawed at each other, limbs and fluids flying everywhere.
A fly-headed monster boasted loudly to a group of sycophants about how many humans it had "played with" on its last mission.
Savage. Filthy. Cruel.
That was life at the bottom of the Monster Association.
Hans's sudden arrival immediately drew attention.
Not because of his faint tiger-class aura, but because of the terrifying, lingering dragon-class pressure clinging to him.
The underground space went dead quiet.
Dozens of murky, blood-red, hateful eyes turned toward him in unison.
Shock, suspicion, greed… and fear.
'Looks like Pochi's intimidation worked better than expected.'
That thought had barely passed through his mind when, in a corner, the mantis monster snapped out of its daze. Without warning, it stabbed the rabbit-like monster beside it, skewering it clean through with its blade arm!
Then it bit off the creature's head with a crunch, dragging the twitching corpse into the shadows to feast quietly.
Hans: "..."
'…So this is workplace bullying, huh?'
'Eating your coworkers alive.'
His mouth twitched, but he now understood the Association's "work culture" a bit better.
Just then, a wet, bubbling voice echoed through the silence.
"How strange…"
From the back of the chamber, a massive stone throne loomed. A rough, gurgling voice came from it.
"How is this trash still alive?!"
The crowd immediately parted, and a hulking figure, easily three meters tall, shoved aside a slower monster and stepped forward.
It had the bulbous, translucent head of an octopus, dripping with slime. Below it hung a bloated humanoid torso, and eight slick tentacles squirmed like restless snakes.
Hans froze, his expression hardening.
He knew this guy.
The ruler of this section, the Tiger-class monster known as Slime Octopus.
According to the system created by Big Eye, monsters were divided by rank and role.
Dragon-class monsters were core leaders, demon-levels served as elite soldiers or researchers, and the lower ranks handled basic labor, gathering resources, building infrastructure, and running errands.
Slime Octopus was part of logistics, responsible for feeding Pochi.
It was his casual order that had sent Hans and four others to deliver food… and end up as the food instead.
Hans's dark-red eyes glowed dangerously beneath his armor.
The crimson veins on his mask pulsed faintly with each breath.
"Who are you calling trash?"
"The trash is you, of course! …Wait, huh?"
Slime Octopus snapped back automatically but immediately realized something felt off.
Then again, thinking wasn't exactly its strong suit.
Even though tiger-class monsters could tank human heavy weapons and were almost impossible for modern armies to wipe out, they were still cannon fodder in the Monster Association's hierarchy.
Without much thought, Slime Octopus curled its slimy tentacles, making gross squelching sounds as it sneered.
"Heheheh… lucky brat. You actually came back alive from Lord Pochi's den."
It took a heavy step forward, its massive body casting a shadow over Hans. Eight tentacles lifted slightly, and its aura surged in an attempt to intimidate him.
"Since you're back, stay put and do what you're told!"
It picked up a severed arm from the ground, no idea whose, and shoved it into its mouth, chewing noisily as fluids splattered everywhere.
"As for tomorrow's feeding run… heheh, that's still your job!"
That casual command, dripping with arrogance, made Hans's eyes go cold.
Not only was this thing ignoring the promised reward, Monster Cells, but it clearly planned to use him again, pushing him toward certain death just to hoard the reward for itself.
"Heh."
A low, heated chuckle escaped Hans's mask, faintly distorting the air.
"What are you laughing at?!"
Slime Octopus scowled, insulted that a supposed nobody dared mock it.
Its eight tentacles spread wide, and the suction cups opened to reveal rows of tiny, jagged teeth, enough to give anyone trypophobia on the spot.
"Don't tell me… you've got a problem with my orders?!"
Boom!
A wave of killing intent erupted from Slime Octopus, foul air surging through the room.
The surrounding monsters immediately backed off, eyes glowing with bloodthirsty anticipation.
After all, there was one simple rule in the lower ranks of the Monster Association,
There are no rules.
Only one law truly mattered:
Survival of the fittest.
The strong ruled. The weak were food.
And nobody cared how many "trash monsters" died each day, Big Eye could just make more.
Fighting over food, land, or just a bad mood
All part of daily life down here.