More importantly, a berserker's cultivation required constantly absorbing the blood energy of others—and that blood energy had to come from the strong.
Without a demon arm to suppress it, and without the madness-controlling mental pressure that came with it, ordinary people simply couldn't restrain the chaotic blood energy. They would die outright before even getting the chance to fight.
If the upper limit of an ordinary person practicing the Blood Energy Secret Art was two, then someone with a demon arm—even without any prior training—had an upper limit of fifty.
When normal people tried to train this art, even basic practice could permanently cripple their arms. It was a path where the effort far outweighed the reward. With that level of risk and difficulty, why not just train orthodox swordsmanship instead?
There was no risk, and results came much faster.
It wasn't as if there were no stubborn fools.
The swordsman Leo had blown apart earlier was exactly such a person. He had forced himself down this path without a demon arm and nearly killed himself in the process—only to still lose to people his own age.
Not only did he lose in swordsmanship, but the power of his Blood Energy Secret Art was barely one-tenth that of a true berserker with a demon arm.
That was because the demon arm also amplified the attack strength of blood energy. After all, it could endure far more strain than a normal human arm.
Because of this, the Blood Energy Secret Art was widely regarded as a heretical path.
"No wonder this thing is basically exclusive to berserkers…"
Leo couldn't help complaining. Still, since this power was essentially free, he had nothing to truly resent.
But just then, he heard a noise.
The next instant, a dagger slipped through his closed window.
An accomplice?
Leo's first thought was that it might be someone connected to the two men from earlier. Instinctively, he raised his machine gun—but the intense dizziness slowed him down compared to earlier that day. Before he could stand, the window was already forced open.
A slender figure leapt into the room.
Seeing the gun in Leo's hands, the intruder snorted coldly, drew two daggers, and assumed a throwing stance.
But instead of attacking, she spoke first.
"Hey. Is this how you treat a guest?"
That familiar tone made Leo pause. He squinted through his lingering haze and looked more closely.
Standing in front of him was Tangie.
She carried a backpack. The chains and most of her usual gear were gone.
Leo didn't lower his guard, but he did complain.
"Guests don't usually come in through windows. And I don't remember inviting you."
Tangie turned her head away irritably.
"Then what was the extra ten gold coins about earlier?"
Under the pale moonlight, Leo finally got a clear look at her.
Most of the grime on her body was gone. Her clothes were still worn and torn, but they were clean. Her hair had clearly been taken care of. The scars were still there—still frightening—but she looked far cleaner and more composed.
Her expression was strange. A mix of forced toughness and feigned indifference.
"Oh…"
Leo let out a long, meaningful sound.
"What are you 'oh'-ing about?!"
Tangie tossed her pack aside. Leo heard the crisp clatter of chains inside it. He ignored that and walked closer, stopping where the moonlight fell fully over her.
"So… you came to honor the agreement?"
The extra gold coins had been meant as teasing and a test. He genuinely hadn't expected her to show up on her own—after deliberately cleaning herself up, no less.
Tangie grabbed him by the collar, visibly annoyed.
"Are you messing with me?"
"No. I just don't understand—"
"You think I'm the kind of person who takes money and doesn't deliver?! I'm not giving it back! Even if you think I'm ugly and don't want to sleep with me, I'm still not refunding you!"
She glared at him fiercely, clearly ready to beat him into the ground if he dared say she wasn't attractive.
"I paid, so of course I want the service."
Leo raised his hands slightly and looked at her seriously.
"And I genuinely think you're beautiful."
He meant it.
In Tangie's eyes, Leo's gaze reflected the pale moonlight, illuminating her face—one marked with several shallow scars.
She froze for a moment.
Then she released his collar and turned her head away.
"You serious? Is something wrong with your brain?"
She deliberately exposed the scars on her abdomen and side. Even the smallest was over ten centimeters long.
The largest ran from beneath her ribs all the way down to her navel. Another on her right side nearly reached her inner thigh.
These scars were proof of her past—also the reason her body was considered ugly and frightening.
"I'm serious. You really are beautiful."
Leo looked at the scars and gently placed his hand on the longest one across her stomach.
"You must've had a really hard life."
That wound was long and wide. Even without medical knowledge, Leo could tell it had nearly killed her.
The scar on her leg was the same—just a little more damage and her leg would have been gone entirely.
Any one of those would have been fatal to most people.
Yet she survived.
"You…"
Tangie instinctively thought she'd met a freak and tried to step back—but Leo stopped her, holding her firm waist, his hand tracing over her skin and the scars inch by inch.
Then he quickly lifted her chin and kissed her.
She resisted instinctively for a split second, then yielded, allowing his tongue to slip past her lips and seek hers.
Leo found it oddly striking.
Tangie was clearly inexperienced. The confusion and panic in her response couldn't be faked.
He softened his movements.
And then he noticed something strange.
Tangie's saliva had a faintly sweet, metallic taste—cloying and sharp, instantly evocative of poison.
The effect matched it too.
The moment Leo registered the sweetness, his tongue began to feel numb and stiff.
Still, he glanced at the more than one hundred medical kits and assorted medicines remaining in his inventory—and continued.
He might have terrible luck in that other world…
But when it came to medicine, he had never been short on it.