Death Heir’s Devouring System

Once, twice, ten times, twenty times.

Azrael, sitting on the abdomen of his last foe, decided to take another approach when it came to killing.

Just as Chunk had said, the only rules were the ones announced at the start of the match.

So it should be fine if he were to test his punch strength against someone's head, right?

"Wai—"

ArcLancer attempted to call out, only to be hit by another of the relentless fists Azrael was unleashing upon him.

With each hit, the man's head would fall backward, hitting the earth below. The inertia would then carry it upwards, only to be struck by Azrael's next punch.

Chunk, known here as Silkflow, arrived shortly after Azrael had dispatched the two teaming duos, witnessing the way he was mutilating the last one.

Truthfully, Chunk had a good heart; under normal circumstances he would have attempted to stop Azrael. But he hated teamers with a passion, since they often teamed up against him.

So he deemed stopping the scene unnecessary.

"Please—"

ArcLancer tried to plead, yet Azrael wasn't having any of it.

While pounding his foe's head relentlessly, he observed the way the man's mask was slowly cracking, showing the bloodied face underneath.

'This VR reality really is indistinguishable from reality; the way the blood flows, the nerves all over his writhing face… They are perfectly replicated,' he thought.

At a certain point, stinging pain began to resonate from his fists. Due to ArcLancer's hard mask, his fists were starting to bleed.

'Hm… maybe this would work?' Seeing the blood seeping from his hands, he got an idea. Using [Blood Manipulation], he commanded the precious liquid to swirl around his fists and harden.

In the span of a few seconds, gauntlets made from blood solidified on his fists. It was far from perfection since this was the first time he had crafted such a weapon, but it was going to do the job.

Since Azrael's attack stopped momentarily, ArcLancer opened his eyes slowly, hoping that the worst was over.

Only for his heart to beat even faster, seeing the newly formed gauntlets on Azrael's fists.

Before he could utter a single word, he was hit again.

From that single hit, the mask that had lessened the damage gave way entirely.

ArcLancer no longer had the strength to speak as he lay there, taking Azrael's fists without the power to retaliate.

At that moment, ArcLancer's viewers reached peaks never seen before.

[Kill him!]

[Don't stop!]

[Hit harder!]

[Good! How I hated his face… to think I would live to see the day he's beaten so ruthlessly!]

Unanimous support for Azrael's actions spread like wildfire.

Yet he remained oblivious to that fact. With his newly created weapons, his last foe died less than a minute later.

The last things ArcLancer's viewers saw were the slowly rising figure from the corpse and the featureless veil that betrayed no emotion.

Cracking his neck, Azrael spun, seeing the way Chunk was waiting for him.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Chunk shook his head.

"No."

A large smile appeared on his face, though it was hidden behind his demonic mask.

"It was a pleasure to watch those who tested the fire get burned by it."

The statement surprised Azrael. "Do you dislike teamers that much?"

"It's not just about them being teamers," Chunk explained. "I personally know this guy and the way he does anything for engagement. Believe me when I say he got what he deserved. There is a record of him torturing people just to enrage his viewers."

Azrael didn't speak further; he truly didn't care for the man's history. The whole reason he had killed him slowly was to test how much power his punches held.

"Let's go," Chunk added.

"Since this guy was broadcasting live, our position is known. Soon the area will be flooded with people trying to pick us off."

Before Azrael could utter a word, Chunk had sped off.

'I guess he is scared of being ambushed,' he mused.

'This is for the better. Using [Blood Manipulation] to close my wounds will only work up to a point. If I faced another teaming duo, I'd lose.'

Taking Moonlight Tears, he observed the flask, only to see that it was entirely empty. Killing Chosen didn't seem to fill it at all.

"Do you have healing items?"

Chunk shook his head. "No, but if we are lucky, we will find some sooner or later."

Azrael's interest piqued at the 'find' part, but he didn't speak further.

Exiting the field area, they found themselves in a mountain range. Uneven ground, with thinner air and a colder climate.

They hadn't come here by their own volition; since in battle royale mode the circle was shrinking, they were forced to be constantly on the move. It was only a matter of time before they met another team.

Glancing upwards, Azrael looked at the player count and his current accomplishment.

[Player count: 34/100]

[Kill count: 4]

[Assist count: 0]

Truly facing things, it was essentially the perfect training ground. At some point, Azrael wondered why they hadn't used this equipment on the Marked rather than putting them in artificially created Rifts to test them.

That way no one would have died at all.

'Maybe they just don't want people with weak minds surviving, or the gear would be too costly…' No matter how much he racked his brain, understanding the intentions of the higher-ups felt impossible.

"We were too late!"

Chunk shouted, bringing him back to reality.

The man was looking at the peak of the mountain they were supposed to pass through.

A feminine figure stood tall, her gaze fixed on them, a bow drawn and aimed in their direction.

"What do we do?" Azrael asked.

"Shit, I know her. She's too famous not to know her." Chunk's voice grew desperate. "Listen to me, no matter what you do, don't—"

Before the man could finish his words, the ground around the woman shattered as she released the arrow.

The projectile moved faster than Azrael could perceive, despite him focusing on it with all his senses.

A heartbeat later, the man's upper torso was missing, disintegrated by the strike.

[Your teammate has perished.]

Azrael was left alone.