Slaughter Lord

"Damn it!"

Stark was the first to react.

While the True-Self Perfect One and the others were still staring at Hawkins, he flew low over the ground. As he neared Osborn, he made a sharp grab with one hand, but failed to scoop up Osborn's corpse. All he got was a handful of mosaic fragments.

He cursed under his breath and used the momentum to flee, flying into the distance without looking back.

"The experience monster's getting away! Hawkins, go after him!" Mani shouted.

Shabi swept past Hawkins and raced after Stark, but she returned before she had gone far, frustration written all over her face.

"He got away?" Hawkins asked in surprise, closing his status panel.

Stark was badly injured, yet Shabi had failed to catch him. That was unexpected.

"He had someone waiting to help him," Shabi explained coldly.

The True-Self Perfect One walked over and crouched beside Osborn's corpse. "Probably a noncombatant. Not everyone in the Plundering Empire is good at fighting. Some have all sorts of strange support abilities, like teleportation. It's no surprise someone was there to help him."

He poked the mosaic fragments on the ground, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Many strange substances lingered in the fragments, along with traces of negative emotions.

Hawkins had killed Osborn, and his strength had immediately risen. That certainly fit the rules of a game, but where had that strength come from?

The True-Self Perfect One found the answer in the pile of mosaic fragments.

He looked up at Hawkins. "Your power is, at its core, the ability to plunder everything from your enemies. That's truly vile."

"No. The essence of 'I Am All Beings' is sharing. Killing monsters to level up is just a means of self-defense. If an enemy doesn't show a