The twelve scorpion tails behind him rose at once. Liquid dripping from the tips of their stingers corroded twelve small pits into the ground. His amber vertical pupils fixed on Wu Heng, and a low hiss rumbled from his throat—the sound of some ancient creature from the desert.
"Karim, codename 'Sand Scorpion.'"
The ninth medal fell onto Hans's chest. The metal antennae on his head trembled wildly, while the numbers in his eyes flickered so fast they were nearly impossible to see.
His forked tongue slid out to lick his lips with a faint hissing sound. Then he smiled, and that smile looked as though he were calculating something.
"Hans, codename 'Keyboard.'"
The tenth medal fell onto Martin's chest. The outline of his body stabilized in an instant, turning him into what looked like an utterly ordinary middle-aged man.
Yet the images on the bone spurs behind him continued to flicker, countless points of light glimmering within the darkness.
"Martin, codename 'Chess Player.'"
All ten medals had been bestowed.
Wu Heng took a step back and stood at the center of the platform, facing the hundreds of thousands of eyes below.
Then he began to speak.
His voice was not loud, yet every word reached every ear with perfect clarity.
Broadcast simultaneously through every guild communication channel, it reached not only every corner of the square, but every survivor settlement across the world, every Demon Hunter terminal still fighting, and every radio held by ordinary people hiding in air-raid shelters.
"Today, the Demon Hunter Knights are officially established."
The square fell completely silent.
"You have seen the ten people on this platform. They were once ordinary people like you—construction workers, nurses, students, veterans, bounty hunters. They fought their way out from among twelve million applicants, crawled out of the deadly