"Boss, look over there. That little prick is not dead yet. Tsk," a sickly, tattooed man sneered, his voice filled with malice.
The intimidating figure beside him, a man wearing a mask, turned his gaze toward Igaris's back.
Instantly, his fingers clenched, and the clay cup of foul liquid in his hand shattered, spilling its contents onto the floor.
"Let's go, we need to teach that fuc*ker another lesson for ruining our fun last time."
"Yes, boss," his men responded in unison.
The gang of thuggish men, with their unruly, wild appearances, grinned viciously, their expressions twisted with cruelty.
They were the kind of scum that thrived in the filth of this lawless land, comparable to vermin lurking in the gutters.
Yet, few dared to stand against them. Their gang had the backing of a powerful individual, and that alone made them untouchable.
Meanwhile, Igaris walked toward his home, unaware of the danger lurking behind him.
His mind was clouded with thoughts of growing stronger. He was tired of living at the mercy of others.
In the past, he had been betrayed and tormented countless times, yet he had foolishly continued to depend on others, seeking comfort in the illusion of companionship.
From now on, he would rely on no one but himself.
And maybe with Infinite Acquisition, things would be more interesting.
As he neared his house, an eerie silence suddenly blanketed the surroundings.
Absolute silence under the orange rays of setting sun.
His spine tingled, as if unseen eyes were prying into his every move.
But that was impossible. If he remembered correctly, no one should have been following him.
Was someone secretly trailing him?
A sense of unease crept into his mind. His grip on the wooden stick tightened slightly as his gaze darted around the dimly lit path.
Abruptly, he spun around, his body tensed—only to see nothing but scattered bushes and dried tree trunks swaying in the faint breeze.
He exhaled, letting his tense shoulders relax as he lowered his stick.
Maybe he was just overthinking things. Since when did he start getting scared so easily? The thought felt ironic, almost laughable.
But just as he was about to continue forward—
A faint sound, almost imperceptible, brushed past his ears.
His eyes widened instantly in realization.
But before he could fully turn back—
A sudden, crushing force slammed into the back of his head.
His vision trembled, blurring into a dizzying haze. A ringing silence replaced all sound inside his mind, and before he could even process what had happened—
His body crashed onto the hard, sandy ground, rolling over once before coming to a stop.
Dust and coarse grains of sand invaded his mouth and nose, choking his breath.
Through his fading vision, he barely made out the silhouettes of figures approaching him. Their faces remained indistinct, but their presence oozed with malice.
He tried to move, to react, but his body refused to obey. His brain felt scrambled, as if the impact had severed his connection to his limbs.
Yet, amidst the helplessness, something inside him stirred.
A dark, ominous force.
It thrashed violently within him, like a beast rattling its cage waiting to be unleashed.
Meanwhile, the gang of ruffians sneered in contempt.
Their leader, Ranger, was the most arrogant of them all.
He crouched low, spitting disdainfully onto the ground before grabbing a handful of Igaris's black hair and yanking him up with brutal force—so hard it felt like his scalp might tear away.
"See, little shit? This is what happens when you cross paths with Ranger. Now tell me, who's gonna save you? Even that bitch isn't here to protect you today," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.
One of his lackeys stiffened in fear, darting nervous glances around.
"Boss, be careful with your words... If she hears you, we might get into serious trouble."
The other five or six men shared his unease, their bravado momentarily wavering at the mere mention of her.
Ranger scoffed, waving off their concerns. "Hmph. Who's afraid of her? If things get worse, I'll just call our leader. He'll deal with her.
Now quit stalling and help me cut this bastard's limbs, and tear out his tendons. I want him to spend the rest of his miserable life as a cripple."
A cruel, twisted grin spread across his face as he cackled. "And then right before his very eyes, I'll fuck his sister and mother to death."
His gang erupted into laughter, their eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure.
Suddenly Igaris's eyes turned dark, colder than ever before.
Rage unlike anything he had ever felt surged through him, bubbling up like a suppressed volcano.
He wasn't enraged just at the mention of his new family's miserable state. Rather he was enraged when he heard the word "cripple".
That word had become the trigger.
The trigger to unleash his dark side.
Unbeknownst to the thugs, by now his vision had already cleared. His wounds, once severe, had completely healed—thanks to Undead Recovery.
And they had no idea what kind of monster they had just provoked.
Igaris slapped the back of Ranger's hand, breaking free from his grip with a swift and effortless motion.
It was so casual, so fluid, that for a moment, Ranger was too stunned to react. The laughter of his lackeys died in their throats, their amusement replaced by confusion.
Igaris straightened himself, dusting off his clothes as if nothing had happened. His expression was eerily calm, but his eyes were so cold, hollow, and devoid of emotion that it sent an unsettling chill through the air.
"Congratulations," Igaris said, his voice cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. "You've just made the biggest mistake of your life. And now, you'll pay the price."
Ranger's face twisted in fury. Before he could react, one of his lackeys stepped forward, sneering.
"The fuck did you just say?" the thug spat, cracking his knuckles. "You think you're some bigshot now, huh?"
"Nah, nah.. you're still the same worthless brat!"
He moved in closer, eager to impress his boss, completely unaware of the grave mistake he had just made.
Igaris didn't even flinch. He simply uttered a single word: