The Seven Demon's Tamer

Meanwhile, earlier...

Walking through the street was Mo Fan, his posture carrying a reflection of his inner emotion — annoyance — as he carried out his assigned task.

The night breeze was cool against his face, but it did nothing to soothe his wounded pride, nor cool his temper. Street lamps cast long shadows as he moved, his footsteps heavy and echoing at every step he took.

The FSG were taking Ryder's case quite seriously, and their collaboration with multiple capable guilds and anomalies was enough evidence of just how dangerous they considered the situation.

The Red-Eastern guild head, the silver-gaze possessor, and who knows how many more skilled hunters had been called in — all for one hooded troublemaker called Ryder.

"A demon plane contractor," Mo Fan scoffed, kicking a small stone out of his path with unnecessary force. "As if we haven't dealt with worse before."

After stating their intent on how they planned to bring Ryder down, the FSG still didn't stop and continuously reminded Dwang Sung about the pressing issue. The guild master had received their warnings countless times within just a few hours in a single day — in calls, text messages, and even visits.

Even Mo Fan, who was there to experience Ryder firsthand, was getting pissed off by the disturbance. He wondered how the guild master managed to always smile upon seeing the repeated messages about Ryder.

In the last meeting, their FSG representative had slammed his fist on the table so hard that Dwang Sung's teacup had toppled over, spilling the residual tea on the floor.

Dwang Sung is the kind that would typically get angered by this sort of disrespect, even though it came from a big guild organization like the FSG, but he had remained calm.

Mo Fan, who was present at the meeting, had watched carefully from his position by the door, wondering if the old master would finally lose his legendary composure. He hadn't.

In order to show some effort in the restless request, Dwang Sung assigned some of his guild members to work alongside the FSG. He kept them completely under the FSG to obey and carry out orders, and this eased the FSG a bit — particularly because of the members who were assigned. It was the same people who were at the noodles shop at Ludlow before the incident, people who experienced Ryder and spoke with him.

Although Ryder had trashed them faster than they could summon their familiars — a memory that still caused Mo Fan's cheeks to burn red with humiliation — the fact that Ryder had spent time close to them remained significant.

If anything, they would be the best who could recall and confirm if they spotted Ryder again. They had heard his voice and could guess his height, maybe even saw a fraction of his face beneath that infamous hood.

Mo Fan was particularly pissed off at his current position. For a highly valued member of the Red-Eastern guild to be placed on patrol duty like some common recruit... The thought alone made his blood boil, a humiliation almost equal to his defeat at Ryder's hands.

What he hated most was that he could do nothing about his current assigned position. Disobeying the FSG was also equivalent to disobeying his guild master, which he wouldn't dare. He had embarrassed his guild earlier and remained; he wouldn't want to cause any more trouble, or else he might be kicked out automatically from the Red-Eastern guild.

"Ryder must be feeling like a big shot now, huh?" Mo Fan forced a smirk to his face, his fingers twitching at his sides as he imagined wrapping them around Ryder's throat. "He defeated so many Red-Eastern guild members all by himself."

He must think he is so strong — but he isn't. He simply played dirty, that's all. If he had allowed us summoners to summon our familiars before the battle began, he wouldn't have been able to live up until now.

"If he had allowed just me to summon out my familiar..." Mo Fan's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his eyes taking on a feverish gleam. "He would have been dead for sure."

Mo Fan didn't even realize when he started voicing out his thoughts like a maniac as he patrolled the street, muttering to himself and occasionally making violent gestures at an imaginary opponent.

The other two FSG members by his side, patrolling and acting as his colleagues, exchanged glances at each other. The taller one, Agent Rio, adjusted his hat. Unlike Mo Fan, he was an FSG member. The shorter one, Agent Wendy, had a sneer on her face as she listened to Mo Fan.

"Should we... say something?" Rio whispered, his mustache twitching along with every syllable he uttered.

"And risk becoming the new target of his ranting? I think not," Agent Wendy replied, not even minding if Mo Fan heard her or not. "Besides, it is better said to let him blow off steam. He's been like this since the noodle shop incident."

"I even heard he was the first to make a move on Ryder and was flung like a ragdoll immediately."

Rio quickly glanced at Mo Fan, but he was too lost in his thoughts to hear their conversation.

Phew! He sighed in relief.

Suddenly, as they passed a pole nearby, Mo Fan raised his head to glance at a posted flyer on it. His eyes skimmed the writings disinterestedly.

"Underlings bla bla bla," he spat out as he continued walking, when suddenly, he felt it — a rumble coming from somewhere, like distant thunder on a clear night.

His eyes instantly turned to an alleyway nearby, sharply, as he focused like an eagle that had spotted its prey from a mile away.

"You can hear that, right?" Mo Fan asked his colleagues without removing his gaze from the dark alleyway.

"Hear what in particular?" one of them inquired behind Mo Fan.

"Something is coming," Mo Fan responded, all traces of his earlier pettiness replaced by intensive focus. He rushed forward toward the mouth of the alley, calling over his shoulder, "Come with me!"

As soon as he entered the alleyway, from the other end, a horde of men rushed out.

"Arrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhh!"

They screamed in fear as they darted, not paying the FSG members nor Mo Fan any attention.

"All of you should halt this instant! What's with the rush?" Mo Fan questioned with authority, but like invisible air, they all rushed past him like he never existed.

The size, the muscle, the appearance of many of the fleeing men made it more surprising that they were scurrying away like rats. Just what in the hell were they running from?

His eyes widened as he watched in shock. Such disrespect. No one paid him or his words any attention.

His emotion converted from shock to rage within microseconds. This was not just a breach of protocol — it was personal now. "This is it!"

His body burst with a single wind ripple as red aura, invisible to normal human eyes, ignited around him like a battle aura in those animated shows he enjoyed watching at his leisure time.

From the mark on his left shoulder, red mist flowed out, weaving in the air before him.

"Blood Orc, I summon you."

The air felt like it was drained of all sound for a moment, and the next...

Boom!

The orc materialized from the mist in a flash — the first time Mo Fan had ever managed such a rapid summoning, and the quickest manifestation he had ever accomplished.

The creature was massive, nearly eight feet tall, with curved tusks sticking out from its lower jaw and skin the color of dried blood. Its muscles were so rock-hard that its skin felt like it had been stretched to its limit.

Huff!

Smoke puffed out from its mouth as it raised its hand to the air with its palms wide open — a gesture of pure threat. Its small yellow eyes gleamed with malicious intelligence as it scanned the fleeing humans.

The world felt like it suddenly began to move in slow motion, while the Blood Orc's hand gleamed with red glowing energy. Then the Blood Orc's fist clenched with a crack that sounded like bones breaking.

All the folks running suddenly collapsed in an instant to the ground, conscious but unable to move. Their bodies hit the ground with synchronized thuds, like puppets whose strings had been cut suddenly.

They lay there, eyes wide and moving frantically, mouths working but producing no sounds.

"I asked a question: what's with the rush?!" Mo Fan questioned again, angrily. His familiar stood beside him, a looming presence that made his authority impossible to ignore now.

One of the folks on the ground shivered as he replied with a shaky voice. "Bl... Bla... Black Devil! The Black Devil is wrecking havoc."

With his eyes fixed on the person speaking, Mo Fan repeated thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. "Black Devil? Sounds strangely relatable."

"Could this be connected to Ryder, the hooded menace they had been hunting?"

Squatting down to shorten the gap between them, Mo Fan asked, "Can you give me more detail about the..."

Vwoom!

Mo Fan's eyes suddenly shot wide open, beads of sweat dripping down his face as a wave of pressure washed over him.

The air itself seemed to thicken, becoming difficult to breathe, filled with a malevolent energy.

He wasn't the only one affected; the FSG agents that were standing beside him reacted similarly. They all felt it — a sudden presence that they couldn't describe but demanded attention.

Something powerful and utterly malicious had suddenly been brought to the surface of Terra.

"Do you have a clue what that was?" Mo Fan questioned the closest comrade to him, managing to keep his voice steady.

The FSG agent by the left, particularly the one Mo Fan was talking to, gulped down hard. "I'm afraid I have no clue."

"We should check it out, don't you think?"

"No, no." The other FSG agent to the right shook his head frantically, sweat running down his face, his composure completely abandoned. "I'll suggest we team up with the others and report to headquarters. This is... this is beyond our pay grade."

"Seriously?!" Mo Fan turned around and stared in disbelief. "I never knew the FSG members were so incompetent."

"The aura is intensive, I'll agree with that, but I won't back away. The more dangerous a task seems, the more reason I have to handle it." Mo Fan's voice grew stronger with each word, his initial fear being transformed into determination.

"That is why I am a Red-Eastern guild member. I cannot hurt my pride by my own hand, scurrying away like a scared rat." He glanced at the FSG agents in disgust.

Mo Fan cracked his knuckles, then his neck.

"Scurry away for all I care. I'll be going to kick some butt."