But sensing no malice from Blackie, only an earnest, clumsy attempt at friendliness, left Blackfin more unsettled than if he had been threatened outright. The emotional whiplash was difficult to process. One moment he had been beaten half to death, the next he was being treated like a long-lost colleague. The shift was so abrupt that his mind struggled to catch up.

Blackie, for his part, was simple and unwavering. He had heard Ethan's order clearly. The Boss was recruiting, which meant Blackfin was now part of the team. And teammates were friends. It was as straightforward as that.

Ethan studied Blackfin more closely and frowned. "What happened to your face?"

He distinctly remembered seeing the man earlier, right before losing consciousness. Blackfin had even taken a shot at him. At the time, Ethan's attention had been monopolized by Blackie's over-the-top antics, but now that he was looking properly, the difference was obvious. Blackfin's face was swollen, distorted, almost unrecognizable. It looked as if he had gained a few pounds overnight, all of it concentrated in his cheeks. Ethan genuinely wondered what kind of growth hormones could do that in half a day.

"Uh…" Blackfin shot a wary glance at Blackie, carefully choosing his silence. There was no way he was about to accuse the walking calamity standing beside him.

Blackie, however, had no such sense of self-preservation. "I did it!" he declared proudly. "Was practicing your special technique. Didn't get the power right." His chest puffed out with accomplishment, and not a shred of guilt crossed his face.

"Special technique?" Ethan echoed, genuinely baffled. The idea that his habit of slapping people had somehow evolved into a revered combat art had never once crossed his mind. He did not consider it a technique at all. He just happened to enjoy slapping people when they deserved it. The thought left him momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, like…" Blackie demonstrated with an exaggerated swinging motion through the air.

"Oh," Ethan said slowly, understanding dawning. "You mean this?"

His hand moved.

SMACK! SMACK!

Two sharp, lightning-fast slaps landed squarely on Blackfin's cheeks.

Silence followed, heavy and absolute, stretching on for a full ten seconds.

"Uh…" Blackfin finally managed, his mind catching up to reality.

Yet instead of the familiar, searing pain he braced for, a cool, soothing sensation spread outward from the points of impact. The burning agony left behind by Blackie's earlier "practice" vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed.

Across from him, Voss stared, eyes wide. He had felt a brief, guilty satisfaction at seeing Blackfin slapped again, but the feeling evaporated almost immediately. His jaw dropped as the swelling on Blackfin's face visibly receded, deflating like a punctured balloon. Bruises faded, skin smoothed, and even the discoloration lightened, as though months of damage had been reversed in seconds.

Blackie froze, staring in disbelief. This time, he had not even seen a blur. The Boss's slapping had reached an entirely new level, terrifying in its precision. The healing effect left him just as shaken.

Ethan, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed. In the instant his palm connected, he had subtly activated Tree Form, threading a Rejuvenation spell through his fingertips. The curative energy had done the rest, clean and efficient.

It was not a grand display of power, but it was exactly the kind of quiet, impossible skill that sent a jolt straight through Voss's spine. A Mutant. And a healer. The rarest combination of all. This was precisely what he had been searching for, pouring blood money into for years without success.

Every dirty job he had taken as a mercenary, every life ruined along the way, had been for one purpose. To find a high-level healing-type Mutant capable of saving his ailing mother. The bitterness he felt over being forcibly subdued began to dissolve, replaced by a sharp, calculating resolve to secure this man's favor at any cost.

The Druid God. A myth within Ethereal, and in the real world he rode a Black Qilin and wielded advanced Combat Mech technology. Voss felt a chill. Was there anything this man could not do?

"All better," Ethan said casually, looking at Blackfin as if the outcome had been inevitable.

Blackfin gingerly touched his face, his eyes widening as relief flooded in. "Th-thank you… uh… Druid God."

"None of that 'Druid God' crap," Blackie snapped, slapping Blackfin on the shoulder with what he clearly believed was a friendly pat. The impact nearly sent the man stumbling. "You're with us now. This is the Boss. You call him… uh… Big Boss!" He grinned, chest puffed out, clearly enjoying his role as a veteran.

"Right! Thank you, Big Boss!" Blackfin corrected himself immediately.

Ethan rolled his eyes and shot Blackie a sharp warning glance before turning his attention back to Voss.

"Mickey," Ethan said calmly, "you remember what I told you. You two will have separate responsibilities. I need eyes and ears in the Carnage Faction, and that's your focus. In Ethereal, you take charge. As for the real world, the mercenary operations go to Blackfin."

The last part was delivered with a tone that made it clear this was not a suggestion.

"Blackfin, you'll handle the merger. Do it properly."

Before Voss could even voice his agreement, Ethan had already moved on.

Voss closed his mouth and swallowed the words. He felt no resentment. In the badlands, power decided everything. He had built the Apex Predators by crushing weaker groups, often executing their leaders outright. The fact that he was still alive was mercy enough. Besides, he was exhausted by the constant danger of mercenary life. Was that not why he had invested nearly everything into Ethereal, carving out a stable niche within the Carnage Faction? The money there was easier, the risks lower. If he were not a wanted man, he would have gone legitimate back in the US long ago. Here, he slept with one eye open, even inside his VR Capsule.

The idea of focusing solely on Ethereal filled him with unexpected excitement. "Don't worry," he said firmly, thumping his chest. "The Apex Predators might not be top-tier in the Carnage Faction, but we can be your scouts and informants without question."

Beside him, his second, third, and fourth-in-command exchanged brief glances. Resentment flickered there, along with resignation and something colder beneath the surface. Their silent exchange did not escape Ethan's Soul Sense.

Once Voss finished speaking, Blackfin hurriedly added his own assurances, nodding along with eager compliance.

Ethan simply smiled. "Being just an informant isn't enough."

Voss understood immediately. Ethan wanted expansion, real influence within Ethereal. Still, he knew the reality all too well. "It's not that I don't want to, Big Boss," he said carefully. "It's that we can't. The Carnage Faction isn't like the Survivor Faction. There's no breathing room. No safe growth. It's constant war, every day. A meat grinder."

"Enough. I know," Ethan interrupted calmly. "This is about money. With enough funding, anything in the Carnage Faction can be done. Get your people organized. You're coming with me to take care of something first. After that, you focus on expansion. Funding will not be a problem."

He paused deliberately, letting the promise sink in.

Voss felt a rush of exhilaration and opened his mouth to respond.

But Ethan's gaze had already shifted past him, locking onto the man standing to Voss's left.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.