Alexander approached the horde, his mind visualizing a clean, sweeping arc through the grasshoppers. Despite their blade-like claws and heavy exoskeletons, they looked lumbering and slow. He had been training relentlessly under Emperor, performing 25,000 slashes every single night. Whether it was muscle memory from a previous life or the sheer grit of his current soul, he felt he had grasped the fundamentals. He should be able to carve through Normal Rank pests with ease—or so, he thought.
The moment he stepped within a hundred meters, the atmosphere shifted. Five grasshoppers launched themselves at him, their seven-foot frames blurring into shimmering streaks of green and gold under the sunlight. Alexander barely had time to react, rolling desperately to the side. He wasn't fast enough; a jagged claw caught his right leg, leaving a deep, burning gash. His anomalous physiology hummed with a strange resilience, but the wound was significant. Without immediate care, he was in trouble.
He fumbled for a piece of cloth from his inventory, but the insects were relentless. They weren't just fast; they moved with the terrifying velocity of a fighter's jet. A heavy kick caught him in the ribs, sending him tumbling across the leaf. As he rolled, he stole a glance at his companions. They were still bickering amongst themselves; Ketovan only sparing him a bored, occasional glance before turning back to the conversation. He was on his own.
Desperation triggered something. As the insects lunged again, Alex lashed out in a blind, instinctive arc. The sound of shearing chitin filled the air. Six claws clattered to the ground—two grasshoppers were rendered completely clawless, while two others lost half their lethality. One intact insect tried to finish him, but Alex met the slash head-on. His alignment was clumsy, but the edge of Emperor's Will was unforgiving. Two more claws dropped. These monsters were glass cannons: terrifyingly fast, but physically brittle.
With a fluid, backhanded slash, he bisected the two remaining threats. To his surprise, he felt a warm sensation in his leg; the gash had already knitted itself shut. He turned his attention to the three crippled insects, cutting them down as he stepped past their twitching forms.
He marched toward the heart of the horde. More grasshoppers dashed forward, but he met them with a series of sharp, pivoting turns, his blade acting like a harvester's scythe. He took a few unavoidable shallow cuts, but he didn't stop until he reached the epicenter. Suddenly, he was surrounded. Nearly 150 grasshoppers, each towering over him, closed the circle. The space narrowed, stifling his ability to swing or dodge. In the chaotic press of bodies, a heavy blow caught his wrist, knocking the cutlass from his hand. He was weaponless.
As the first few claws sank into his shoulders, something inside him snapped. It wasn't Emperor taking over—it was his own skill: Command – Adrenaline.
His perception slowed. His fight-or-flight response sharpened into a razor's edge. Before the insects could shred him—and just as Reina and Ketovan finally reached for their weapons—Alex began to spin. He didn't just move; he became a whirlwind of violent kinetic energy. Every claw embedded in his flesh was ripped from its owner as he whirled. He didn't stop to pull them out; he simply began to strike.
There was no technique, no refined art—only raw, primal force. He swung his fists and felt his other skills begging for release. Aside from Command – Pain, which he kept dormant as the adrenaline masked his agony, he opened the floodgates.
Wind coalesced around his knuckles like invisible, howling gauntlets. These "gloves" of compressed air cushioned his hands while striking with the density of granite. The exoskeletons that had previously bruised his skin now shattered like eggshells under the influence of Command – Air.
His body began to systematically eject the broken claws. The wounds didn't just close; his muscles acted like disciplined soldiers under Command – Muscle, pulling the flesh back together with unnatural speed. Simultaneously, a heavy aura of despair radiated from him. The surrounding grasshoppers began to stumble, their movements sluggish and heavy as Command – Fatigue sapped their vitality.
Finally, he leaned into Command – Anger. This wasn't a blind, staggering rage, but a cold, crystalline focus. It clarified his mind, directing every ounce of his fury toward the target in front of him. He became a butcher. With three thunderous punches and a devastating series of kicks, he tore through the remainder of the swarm.
A few seconds later, Alex stood alone amidst a mountain of insect carcasses. He had accidentally shattered a few of the mana cores in his frenzy, but the majority remained intact. He looked up to find the group watching him as if he had just finished a mundane chore.
"Done?" Ketovan asked, his voice laced with mild boredom.
"Yeah," Alex breathed, wiped out. "I need a shower."
He was coated in foul, neon-green insect guts. Reina obliged by manifesting a massive block of ice above his head, while Hakon flicked a miniature "sun" at it. The ice flash-melted, dousing Alexander in a torrential bucket of water. A quick, warm gust from Hakon followed, drying him and his clothes instantly. His outfit was a ruin of tatters, so he quickly swapped into a fresh set of clothes before using the wind to drag the pile of corpses toward the group.
Reina assisted with the extraction. Within minutes, 165 Normal cores and 3 Soldier cores were added to the bag, followed by the Core of the Leaf.
"Took you long enough to kill those things," Reina teased, tossing the bag to Ketovan.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Miss Darath," Alexander replied.
"You told me to call you Alexander, right? Return the favor and call me Reina," she said, walking beside him with a soft smile that reminded him of his sister.
He returned the smile—his first genuine expression of warmth since arriving in this world. "Thanks, Reina."
He stowed the cutlass in his inventory. He decided he wanted to keep using his fists for a while. He liked the weight of them. He liked the feeling.
***