{It's time.}
{Wake up, Sekhmet.}
Sekhmet's large, dark blue eyes shot open, glaring at the notification that blinked ominously in front of him. The sharp pain in his head from being torn out of sleep was annoying, especially when it came at a crucial moment of rest. He groaned softly, pushing himself off the cold, dusty ground. The filth clung to his long, unruly blue hair, and his shirt, once white, was now smudged with grime.
He stood slowly, yawning as he stretched. His focus shifted to the two figures looming over him: C-rank hunters. They had been sent after him for scamming them in a casino bet, and it seemed they were eager to exact their revenge.
Sekhmet had allowed them to beat him to test their strength, to observe their limits and weaknesses. He remained calm, his expression unfazed, though his clothes were torn, and bruises littered his skin. Just as he contemplated ending their petty assault, the notification had appeared, pulling his mind back into focus.
His face hardened as a thick, eerie blue aura began to swirl around him. Mana poured out of him, crackling in the air like electric tendrils.
One of the hunters, unshaken by the display, sneered. "Another little trick, huh? You think I won't beat my money out of you, brat?!" he yelled, raising his hand. In response, the very air around Sekhmet hardened, forming an invisible, glass-like barrier. The air shimmered, refracting light into rainbow-colored hues, imprisoning him in a coffin of power.
But Sekhmet remained still. His mana continued to rise, the pressure building until the space around him trembled.
The second hunter, visibly unnerved, wiped the sweat from his brow. The rising tension was palpable, and his instincts screamed at him to finish the job before it was too late. He lunged forward, his fist glowing as he prepared to unleash his ability—multiplying the force of his punch twentyfold. One blow would be enough to crush Sekhmet, to end this madness before it even began.
But just as his fist was about to connect, Sekhmet's form flickered, a brief shimmer in the air. In the blink of an eye, the hunter's body disintegrated into sizzling, dark embers. His flesh melted away as if consumed by a hellish fire, leaving nothing but ashes.
The notification appeared before Sekhmet.
{Successful destruction of a being.}
{You have gained 500 EXP.}
{You have leveled up.}
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit boardroom, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The air was stale, and the low hum of machinery filled the silence. The remaining board members sat in stiff silence, watching the man standing before them with cold, calculating gazes.
Roman Zurb stood tall, a stack of papers clutched tightly in his hands. His reputation preceded him—an S-rank hunter and scientist, known as the Father of Technology. He was responsible for many of the advancements the world had seen in recent years, and his word carried weight.
But today, even Roman appeared uneasy. His eyes darted nervously toward the row of board members. All were present except Seo, who was imprisoned for his crimes, and Rachael, who was dead. Their absence hung over the room like a specter.
"I've called you all here for something important," Roman began, his voice steady but lacking confidence. He glanced down at his notes, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Thanks to an S-rank hunter—whose name I cannot disclose—we've made a disturbing discovery."
With a snap of his fingers, a three-dimensional hologram appeared in the air before the board. The image it displayed caused murmurs to ripple through the room. A twisting, writhing mass of parasitic creatures filled the screen.
"This," Roman said grimly, "is a Metorion—a parasitic worm that has secretly invaded Earth."
The murmurs grew louder, board members exchanging glances filled with concern and fear. Even Wukong, who rarely showed emotion, was visibly disturbed.
"How far has the invasion gone?" Vicky asked, her tone sharp, wasting no time in getting to the point.
Roman swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "It's been happening for some time now—possibly years. If I had to estimate... it's likely we're already overrun. We may be dealing with hundreds, maybe thousands of infected individuals."
The room fell deathly silent. Roman's words hung in the air like a guillotine, ready to drop.
"And before you ask," Roman added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I'm eighty percent sure... one of them is in this room."
A collective gasp echoed through the chamber. The tension was palpable, the fear almost tangible as the board members stared at one another in suspicion.
Roman's eyes flickered with a dark intensity as he scanned the room. "There's a mole among us," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. "And it's time we find out who."
His gaze landed on Hendricks, a member known for his calm demeanor. But now, Hendricks shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face pale and his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"You've been busted, mole," Roman hissed, his words cutting through the silence like a knife.