The Threat Index measures the destruction a single individual can cause without relying on external tools. At Level 0, an individual is only capable of as much destruction as a normal human, with the upper ceiling being a trained soldier. A Level 4, on the other hand, has the destructive power of a small army equipped and ready for war.
There was a time when Level 4 was thought to be the peak of humanity’s potential. A single individual with the power to face entire armies on their own remained a threat for centuries, even with the rapid advancement of technology. Though that changed with the appearance of higher Level Genomes, the danger they posed was never diminished.
Throughout their long history, the Romano family had no shortage of Level 4 Sorcerers. That had changed in recent times, with the youngest generations struggling to break through the Level 3 ceiling, but they still had their old guard who continue to hold the fort to this day.
Among them was Carlo Romano, known by many as Big Fist. The moniker painted him as a brutish person who likes to solve problems with his fists, which isn’t exactly wrong, but his true origin came from his hands being slightly larger than average, a fact that usually goes unnoticed due to his height.
What made him truly dangerous wasn’t his impressive build, however. Carlo was one of the Romanos’ executioners, meaning he had mastered the family’s esoteric Art.
After he shrugged off one of White Arrow’s attacks with no effort, it became all the more clear that the intel the BEO had on him was spot on. Worse still, it appeared as if he was holding back, studying the heroes and looking for the right moment to crush them entirely.
Looking at their odds, Team Silver Wind shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Not only did they have the numbers advantage, but they also had a Level 4 of their own. Still, faced with the silent confidence of their opponent, the heroes couldn’t help the sense of unease gripping their hearts.
A deep, guttural howl resounded, banishing the clean walls of the corridors and replacing them with a dark forest shrouded in a thick fog, with the light from a bright moon raining from above. Wolves have long since gone extinct, and the average person living in modern would would only encounter such creatures. Despite that, everyone who heard the howl felt such a deep, primal fear.
For the first time since his arrival at the forty-seventh floor, Carlo showed some emotion on his scarred face, his expression darkening. He raised his right hand and commanded the metallic silver substance to rise with it, forming a wall around himself an instant before something slammed into him with the force of a speeding bullet train.
They collided with a wall next, sending cracks coursing through its surface. Gritting his teeth, Carlo shifted the silver to gaze at his attacker but almost regretted it an instant later as two rows of dagger-like fangs almost snapped on his neck.
"Fucking mutt." Pinned against the wall by the massive white beast, Big Fist Carlo commanded the silver substance. "Get off me already!"
The shield’s surface bubbled before needle-like spikes shot out in every direction. Reacting quickly, the white beast retreated several steps, but the spikes kept elongating, following after it.
Light flashed from a different angle, snatching Carlo’s attention an instant before he was swallowed by white flames. Same as before, he encased himself in a silver shell and withstood it all, emerging unscathed as if the attack didn’t affect him at all. The white clad archer seemed like he was going to be a problem so taking him out should have been a priority, but the white beast didn’t leave him such an opening, attacking as soon as the white flames were put out.
"Shouldn’t you be more careful?" Instead of blocking with a shield like he had done before, Carlo parried the clawed hands swinging at him then went straight for a counter, encasing both of his arms in spiky gauntlets. "Werewolves and silver don’t get along!"
He launched a flurry of blows so fast his fists turned into a blur, and with each one that landed came a shockwave that spread through the corridors. Carlo didn’t seem like he was about to stop any time soon, but that changed soon enough. His right arm shot forward as he delivered another punch, but when he tried to retract it, he noticed that it was stuck.
The beast had caught his arm and wasn’t letting go, and because he was too slow on the uptake, he went ahead and punched with the left one, getting it trapped as well. The white beast, having turned red from the bloody beating it had just received, seemed to instantly recover, all of its wounds closing. The blood remained, however, adding to the horror of the wolf-headed monster glaring with its red glowing eyes.
Carlo watched the werewolf spread his maw open and lean in for a bite, his fangs glistening with overflowing saliva. His physical enhancements were reaching their limits and yet he was still struggling to free himself. It was then that he was forced to recognize how much of a threat he was in, prompting him to push further, surpassing the limit he had set for himself.
More liquid silver flowed from under his dark maroon suit, quickly enveloping his head and turning into an impressive helmet. The instant it hardened, Carlo pulled his head back then swung it forward, headbutting the beast and shattering several of its fangs. That finally loosened its grip, allowing him to free himself. He didn’t waste the opening and went for the attack, but before he could swing his fists, a white arrow flashed, forcing him to block again.
Once he put out the persistent white flames, Carlo looked for the beast, intending to finish the job. Surprisingly, it had retreated back to its comrades and was hiding behind the short one in the silver tunic. The poncho-wearing woman was there as well. Glaring at him, she approached the beast and placed her hand on its shoulder. A faint radiance enveloped them both, and a second later, the last injury the beast received began to heal, his fangs growing at a noticeable speed.
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