Compendium of Cleric Weapons:
Introduction to Dual-Bladed Battle Axes
Cross Swing Techniques
Rosary Scatter Barrage
Encyclopedia of War Scythes
Universal Divine Fist Techniques
How to Burn… Heretical Couples
What in the world was all this insanity?
The mysterious, unfathomable image of the First Cleric, Michael, completely collapsed in Aiden Cross's mind.
At the very bottom of the second page, a single sentence was scrawled:
Support classes are extremely fragile. Enemies will ambush you at any time. Do not hesitate. Do not waver. Firmly uphold your faith… seize the flaming battle axe in your hands and sever every enemy before you!
Was this even human language?!
Weren't clerics supposed to heal the wounded and protect the weak?!
This so-called Holy Gospel did nothing but relentlessly encourage people to strap on the heaviest plate armor, pick up the largest blunt weapons imaginable, and charge straight into the frontline to beat every enemy to death.
Support?
Support was impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Only by smashing the enemy's skull directly could one barely survive in this profession.
Aiden Cross closed the Holy Gospel with a dark expression and silently comforted himself:
"…No big deal. I probably just opened it the wrong way."
"Hey! Look who's here!"
"It's our genius—Tony Stark!"
"Ahhh! Tony is so handsome!"
"Iron Man is the best in the world!"
"..."
As a middle-aged man with a flashy mustache strode in, carrying a red suitcase in his hand, the entire restaurant instantly erupted.
Tony Stark, currently the most high-profile superhero in the United States.
With his unique personal charm and absurd wealth, he had earned the nickname "king of cannons," changing companions almost daily.
Naturally, Aiden Cross had no interest in interfering with another man's private life.
"My lord, Iron Man has appeared. Shall I capture him and bring him here?"
The cold-faced young man standing beside Aiden Cross spoke calmly, like a perfectly loyal servant.
Short, jagged black hair. Pale skin. Green eyes. Dark green tear-like markings etched across his face.
A white bone helmet with a single horn covered the left side of his head.
The number 4 was engraved over his left chest.
He wore a high-collared long coat—white with black trim—paired with hakama-style trousers, a wide black sash at his waist, a blade sheathed within it, black socks, and white footwear.
A terrifying spiritual pressure lay dormant within his body, ready to erupt at any moment.
Ulric Cinder, currently ranked A-Class, Second Seat within the Hero League.
With access to two-stage Release transformations, if he fought without restraint, he could potentially reach S-Class combat power.
"No. That won't be necessary," Aiden Cross replied calmly.
"Forgive my bluntness," Ulric said coldly. "This frail human—what exactly do you see in him?"
"Never underestimate anyone, Ulric."
Aiden Cross set his wineglass down on the table.
"He's weak now, but with technology, he may one day possess near S-Class strength."
"..."
Ulric fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
"I was shortsighted."
Though a being born of darkness, Ulric was composed and rational, rarely showing emotion.
Merciless toward enemies, yet disgusted by senseless slaughter—
calm, disciplined, and absolutely loyal.
Among all his subordinates, Ulric was the one Aiden Cross trusted most.
"Hey, girl!"
Tony Stark's gaze suddenly shifted toward Aiden Cross's table, his eyes lighting up as he waved enthusiastically.
More precisely, his attention was fixed on Seraphina Dawnshield.
Her features fit Western aesthetics perfectly, her figure was impressive, and the faint aura of holy light surrounding her was undeniably alluring.
"W–What?! Power… it's overflowing!"
Before Tony could even approach—
A muscular man wearing boxing gloves suddenly convulsed within the crowd.
Veins bulged violently across his body as the Monster Factor within him activated.
His physique rapidly expanded, clothes exploding apart as muscles swelled grotesquely.
A bald head gleamed brightly under the lights.
Black-framed glasses. Boxing gloves. A golden belt around his waist.
His body inflated to nearly three meters tall, radiating suffocating pressure.
"Listen up, all of you!" the monster roared.
"I am the Electric Pull-Cord Monster—awakened from excessive shadowboxing against imaginary enemies!"
Having fully transformed, his human reason and morality were completely devoured.
He raised his fist and threw a single punch forward.
The air detonated with a sonic boom, space itself seeming to compress.
Nearly a hundred tons of force condensed into a single point.
"BOOOOM!!!"
The ground for dozens of meters ahead was ripped apart as if plowed by heavy machinery.
At the far end, the wall was obliterated by the shockwave alone, punching straight through five or six reinforced concrete layers.
This level of destruction was far beyond human comprehension.
"That destructive power…"
Aiden Cross glanced up lazily.
"Tiger-level disaster."
Tiger-level monsters would become commonplace in the future—nothing worth marveling at.
"Senior, please allow me to engage."
"My lord, permit me to erase this noisy trash."
Ulric spoke coldly, completely unfazed by a Tiger-level threat.
Only peak Dragon-level monsters could force him to fight seriously.
Wolf, Tiger, Demon—
all were one-strike kills.
"No. Not yet," Aiden Cross said, raising a hand to stop both Mash Shieldheart and Ulric.
"Let's observe Iron Man's current combat power."
The primary objective of this operation was to recruit Tony Stark into the Hero League.
This was the perfect opportunity to assess his strength.
Judging by the red suitcase in his hand, Stark had likely developed the Mark V armor.
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Read Chapters ahead: [email protected] / KaiOynx