I had to admit, this move from the angels caught me off guard. They were playing a subtle game, attempting to corner me with the weight of my own kind. I met their smug expressions with a smirk of my own—a sharp, jagged thing—before turning my back on the three celestial observers.
They couldn't touch me. Even if their fingers itched to wrap around my throat, they wouldn't dare. That was the singular, fragile protection humans possessed against those sneaky bastards: the rules of the system forbid direct celestial interference at this stage.
However, I wasn't naive enough to let my guard down. The influx of humans was a double-edged sword.
The sheer number of people approaching was almost too large to manage effectively, and I was certain that while many were just innocent, terrified survivors, they were being led by snakes. The traitors—the "Arnolds" of this new world—were lurking in the shadows of the crowd.
Isabella moved with a practised, eerie calmness, relaying my instructions to the rest of the team. We couldn't afford a single mistake. "The biggest threat we face isn't the number of enemies," I heard her murmur to the others, "it's the risk of getting separated. Stay tight. Stay lethal."
"Will we fight the monsters the same way as before?" John asked. I could hear the slight tremor in his voice, the telltale sign of a man whose nerves were beginning to fray under the relentless pressure of the apocalypse.
"It won't work," I replied flatly.
We had already blown the main generator to create a defensive perimeter, and while there were still a few lingering energy fields around us that we could potentially exploit, they wouldn't serve us here. Not with this many humans in the mix.
We didn't need flashy traps for this next phase; we had the night vision skill, and in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. In my eyes, these incoming humans weren't allies—they were cannon fodder.
They were the meat shields we would have to sacrifice to emerge from the upcoming challenge unscathed. And that challenge, I knew, would be far greater and more visceral than anything we had faced so far.
"They smell like Arnold," Sara whispered, stepping up to my side. She was wearing a plain chestplate armor I'd helped her secure. It was thin and looked light, almost like a second skin, but it was forged with enough integrity to protect her vitals from a direct clash with the hyenas we had encountered earlier.
I didn't answer her remark with words. Instead, I gave her a sharp wink. This girl was sharp; she had managed to read the underlying tension of the situation faster than anyone else.
Her comment cast a spotlight on the hidden danger, and in the next second, I saw the faces of my team darken as the realization took hold. We weren't just being joined by survivors; we were being infiltrated.
"Be ready for my mark, and notify the others as well," I whispered to her, my voice barely a breath against the wind. I turned back to the rest of the group, my expression softening into a false, reassuring mask. "Don't be so dejected," I said with a practised smile. "Let me be the one to welcome our guests first."
The field around us was still burning. The intensity had diminished over the last hour, but the glowing embers and licking flames still acted as a beacon—a lighthouse in the dark that guided the lost and the predatory toward us.
I held a sliver of hope that I might find a few truly good people among the new arrivals, but I didn't hold my breath. In my experience, if a person was truly worthy and possessed a backbone, the traitors usually made it a point to kill them off early.
"Wow! This place looks way better than that hole we were hiding in!" "What started this fire? Look at the size of that crater!" "Look at them! They're all holding real weapons... swords and spears!"
As I stepped out from the smouldering ruins of the field, these scattered, excited comments drifted toward me from multiple directions. We were being converged upon by roughly ten distinct groups, ranging from twenty to fifty people each. They looked ragged, wild-eyed, and desperate.
"Welcome," I said, my voice dripping with fake hospitality. "I'm glad to see there are more survivors out there. I was beginning to think we were alone."
I made sure to keep my sword visible, raising it slightly so the firelight glinted off the steel. It was a subtle signal: I was welcoming them, but I was also ready to gut anyone who stepped out of line.
"Dude, that's a nice-looking sword!" "Did you find that in the field or did you loot it off a monster?" "Look at that pile over there... they've killed hundreds of those things! We struggled just to take down ten!"
I moved my gaze slowly, scanning the faces in the crowd with the precision of a hawk. They started to gather in a semi-circle in front of me, their comments becoming a repetitive drone of awe and envy. I hadn't come out here to make friends; I had come to filter out the rot. I needed to identify the traitors before the situation reached a boiling point.
"What the hell were you thinking, leaving all this fire burning?"
The outburst came from a man in the centre of the crowd. He stepped forward, waving his arms in a theatrical, angry display. "Are you stupid? Fire attracts monsters from miles away!"
"Yeah!" another voice chimed in. "That's just reckless! Look how many monsters you've probably drawn to us already!"
"That's right! We didn't face more than ten monsters during the last quest because we stayed quiet!"
"Let's put this fire out, guys," a third man instigated, looking around at the crowd to gather support. "We don't want to get killed just because these fools wanted a bonfire..."
Before the man could finish his sentence, I moved.
My stats weren't significantly different from theirs—the system hadn't granted me godhood yet. Even if some of them had higher raw attributes thanks to their initial rolls, I possessed something they didn't: a library of combat experience from a life they hadn't lived yet. Besides, no one in this crowd expected the "hospitable" host to strike. They thought they held the upper hand through sheer numbers.
They were wrong.
"You—"
"Slash!"
I didn't offer the luxury of a conversation. I let the cold steel of my sword do all the talking. Luckily for me, the loudest instigators—the ones most eager to sow discord—had positioned themselves at the very front of the crowd to better manipulate the masses. It made them easy targets.
I cut through four of them in a blur of motion before the rest of the crowd even managed to wake up from their collective shock. As the realisation of the violence finally dawned on them, a man near the centre began to scream, "What are you standing idle here for? This is some crazy dude who wants to kill all of us—"
"Slash!"
My sword was significantly faster than his panic-stricken words. In the next instant, his head was sent spinning into the air, a spray of crimson trailing behind it. He wasn't the only one to meet such a fate; anyone who opened their mouth to instigate the crowd found their sentences cut short by my blade.
Even the two who were clever enough to try and retreat deep into the safety of the large group were hunted down and caught in a matter of seconds. In less than one minute of calculated violence, I had executed ten traitors and cleared a significant amount of filth off my path.
"What's the meaning of this?" Another one, his face twisted in a look of "righteous" anger, had the courage to challenge me.
I didn't give him a chance to breathe, let alone finish his thought. My sword raced toward his neck, a silver streak in the firelight, and sent his head rolling across the cracked pavement.
"Thud!"
As his headless body collapsed into the dirt, the entire crowd surged backwards in a wave of terror. The look of fear on their faces was palpable; they weren't looking at a saviour anymore. They were eyeing me as if I were a monster far more dangerous than the ones lurking in the dark.
"This place has one simple rule," I said, finally speaking now that I had finished the initial culling. "Follow me, and you'll have to obey my words without question. If you don't want to listen to me, then get the hell out of here right now."
"This..."
Many faces turned deathly pale, while others began to dart their eyes around, looking for an exit or a leader to tell them what to do. I knew this was one of the most dangerous moments in the formation of any group. Humans are hardwired to follow a lead during times of confusion and intense fear. Usually, those negative feelings lead them straight into a trap, guided by the very snakes I was trying to kill.
One of the most important lessons I learned in the old world was the necessity of making solo decisions. Leaning on the collective consensus of a panicked crowd was the biggest mistake anyone could make in an apocalypse.
"Make up your mind now," I commanded, waving my sword in the air. I flicked the blade, letting the hot blood spray across the faces of those standing in the front row. I wanted them to feel the reality of the situation.
If those bastards were thinking about using this moment of hesitation to their advantage, I would counter them by infusing even more fear into the humans in front of me.
This was the only way to stabilize the situation: making them fear me to such a degree that following my lead became the only logical choice for survival. I would filter them over time, supporting only those who proved themselves worthy, but for now, fear was the only leash that worked.
I waited, watching the shifting tides of the crowd.
"We won't leave here."
A man in his late twenties stepped forward. He was well-built, with a steady gait and a face that told me he wasn't fazed by the blood on my boots or the heads on the ground. He looked at me as if my threats were mere noise.
"Shall I kill you then?" I asked calmly, my tone as casual as if I were inviting him to dinner.
"Humph, you don't own this place," he replied, completely disregarding my blade. He turned his back to me to face the frightened survivors.
"We were given instructions to come here for the next quest. Don't let this maniac force you to leave. The angels tried to help us with their powers and made our numbers increase for a reason. We won't drop such benefits because of one crazy man holding a sword."
He turned back to me, drawing a sword of his own from a scabbard at his hip. "If he thinks himself special, then I beg to differ."
As the words left his mouth, a group of twenty people stepped out from the crowd to stand behind him. Strangely enough, every single one of them was as physically imposing as the leader, and they all held swords that looked far too balanced to be random loot.
"If you think you have good strength thanks to the stats you unlocked, then let me show you the power of numbers," he said in a vicious tone.
His words were the final nail in his coffin. My eyes narrowed as I realised his true identity. No one—and I mean no one—in the first few hours of the apocalypse would use terms like "stats" or "unlocked" in their speech.
People at this stage didn't even know how to open the system market to purchase weapons, let alone understand the underlying mechanics of the interface.
These weren't just normal, brave survivors. They were a coordinated unit of traitors. And from a simple glance at their stances and their gear, I knew they were going to be a lot harder to handle than the screaming amateurs I had just decapitated.
"Kick his ass!" "Yeah, we have strong people on our side, too!" "Let's all kill him together and end this madness!"
The shouts erupted from various pockets of the crowd, fueled by the bravado of the man with the sword. Unlike what that self-proclaimed leader expected, I didn't give him a single moment of my attention. I ignored his posturing and focused my gaze solely on the voices in the back—the ones trying to manipulate the masses into a frenzy.
I knew the psychology of the apocalypse better than anyone. If a normal human found themselves in a situation this volatile, their instinct would be to stay silent, shrink back, and remain neutral until a clear winner emerged. Anyone actively trying to move the masses into a violent confrontation was, without a shadow of a doubt, a traitor.
"It's a mistake to ignore me," the man growled. His face had soured significantly. He had expected me to grow nervous, to fixate my attention solely on him and the twenty well-built traitors flanking him. He wanted a duel, a spectacle to prove his dominance.
"Sorry to bring you this piece of bad news, but..." I suddenly raised my sword high into the smoke-filled air, a cold grin splitting my face. "I'm also not alone."
"What…?!!"
The shock on his face was the last thing he felt before the world turned into a furnace. A thick, suffocating cloud of dust and heat erupted from the ground beneath him—the signature activation of the skill Sara had been holding in reserve.
"Just in time," I whispered.
The skill she unleashed brought forth fire on a localised but devastating scale, covering a ten-meter radius. I recognized the mana signature instantly; it was Fire Festival Level 1, one of the most reliable basic skills for the Mage class.
"Such a good choice," I commended under my breath as I moved toward the flanks.
The Fire Festival skill was a nightmare for low-level opponents. It created a persistent blaze that lasted for a full minute, burning with an unnatural intensity that could consume solid rock and even flicker across the surface of water.
Beyond the initial blast, anything flammable became fuel for the expanding hunger of the flames. However, my true delight regarding this skill was its tactical utility: we would never need to rely on external light sources again. We could create our own beacons. We had our own Prometheus in the group now.
"S… Stay away…" "M… Monster…"
The traitors who managed to dodge the initial eruption retreated in a blind panic, their coordination shattered. Sara had placed the centre of the spell beautifully, catching that "leader" of theirs in the heart of the explosion.
However, unlike what the survivors expected, I didn't turn back to finish the stragglers. I kept my pace steady and unrelenting, walking straight toward the shocked, trembling faces of the large group behind the fire. I was hunting the instigators.
"Boom!" "Boom!"
Two more violent explosions tore through the air, reaping the remaining lives of the twenty-man traitor squad. They had made a fatal miscalculation; they assumed my group only had one mage. In reality, I had cultivated four.
It's good to keep at least one in hiding for now, I thought to myself, maintaining my strategic edge.
I accelerated, my feet blurring as I closed the gap between me and the "survivors" who had been shouting for my death moments ago. I didn't need to waste mana on skills.
In fact, I didn't have any active combat skills yet—I had pointedly refused to learn the "Dash" skill from the hyenas, as it was a clunky, useless move that offered no real tactical advantage to someone with my experience.
"Slash!" "Slash!"
I carved through the crowd with surgical precision. In less than a minute, I had executed seven more traitors hidden within the masses. The twenty-man squad and their leader were already cinders, consumed by the lingering flames of the Fire Festival.
The scene was a nightmare brought to life: I stood in the centre of the field, my sword drenched in dark blood, with a wall of supernatural fire roaring behind me. The imagery was traumatic for the majority of the survivors, many of whom collapsed to their knees in terror.
But as I scanned the faces, I noticed a few who remained composed. They stood still, their eyes tracking my movements with a chilling lack of fear. They weren't threatened; they were observing. My work here wasn't finished.
"Human Hye, explain yourself this instant!"
The voice boomed from above. One of the three angels was shouting in a state of pure, unadulterated rage. His celestial face was contorted, clearly blindsided by the fact that I had managed to systematically purge every single one of his traitors before the monsters had even arrived on the scene.
"I won't say it again," I shouted, my voice cutting through the crackle of the lingering magical fires. I projected my voice upward as if I were answering the angel's fury, but in truth, I wasn't speaking to the divine at all. I was speaking to the terrified, huddled masses of survivors. "Anyone who wants to stay here and live can follow me. Anyone else can f*ck off!"
My bold declaration fell like a heavy stone into a deep well, leaving the area in a state of absolute, dead silence. Even the few observers who had maintained their composure—the ones who had watched my execution of the traitors with cold, calculating eyes—saw their expressions darken for the first time since they arrived.
I had effectively detonated every plan they had for this group. By cutting out the rot so publicly and brutally, I was about to gain a different kind of follower: people who would obey out of a mixture of absolute belief and paralyzing fear. In this world, there was no room for the luxury of doubt.
As for any traitors still hiding in the shadows, I wasn't afraid of them anymore. I had cleansed the majority of the filth, and while a few rats might still be scurrying in the tall grass, they would find the environment far more hostile than before. If they dared to infiltrate my inner circle now, they would find themselves walking into a meat grinder.
"I say we all join your group," one of the composed men said, stepping forward. He wore a practised, humble smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Despite us coming from a democratic world where freedom is paramount, we have to do whatever is necessary to survive. If that means following a tyrant to see tomorrow, then so be it."
A tyrant? Nice touch, man, I thought, an inward sneer curling in my mind as I watched the predatory gleam in his eyes. He thought he was being clever, framing my leadership as a necessary evil to keep the crowd on his side. Let's see how long that smile of yours stays on your face when my sword finally finds your neck.
However, before I could even twitch a finger toward my blade, a transparent blue window snapped into existence directly in front of my face.
[Quest Update: Under any circumstances, no human shall kill another during the duration of this quest. Any human who violates this rule will be considered to have failed the quest immediately.]
Wow! They really moved faster than I thought, I noted, my eyes narrowing. I shifted my gaze to the sky, focusing on the central angel. The "messenger" wore an evil, triumphant smirk that stretched across his beautiful, hollow face.
He was the architect of this move. It was a checkmate designed to neuter everything I had accomplished. By removing the threat of my sword, he had stripped away the fear I used to maintain order. Now, every traitor in the field knew they were protected by a divine shield. They could plot, sabotage, and instigate without fear of being cut down.
But the angel made one fatal assumption: he assumed I considered traitors to be "human."
Humph! As if I'd fall for such a shallow, silly trick! Instead of showing the crushed, disappointed expression the angel was clearly waiting for, I let a wide, shark-like grin spread across my face. I turned my back on the survivors and the celestial observers alike.
"This place is all yours. Enjoy the view. We're leaving!"
My voice was a roar that likely echoed for miles. I began to walk away from the smouldering field with steady, rhythmic steps.
From the very beginning, I had never planned on staying in this specific location for the second half of the quest. My only goal in coming here was to tilt the odds in my favour by removing the enemy's hidden pieces while they were still vulnerable and gathered in one place.
As for the quest itself, I hadn't chosen Central Park as our destination out of a whim or a need for open space. In my past life, there were whispers—rumours of something ancient and hidden beneath the greenery of this park. I was going to find it while the rest of these fools were busy playing house under the angels' "protection."
As for this field and the people standing in it... humph. They could have the scorched earth and the broken generator. They could enjoy the short, hollow safety for the remaining minutes of their lives.
C'mon... take the bait... It's far too delicious for you to let it go like this, I thought, keeping my pace even. I began to count my steps, mentally tracking the distance.