At the highest point of Lionheart City, powerful figures stood facing each other.

City Lord Arnold stood at the front, his expression grim. Beside him was John, the head of the Glorious Auction House, along with four other top experts.

Opposite them stood eight masked Rank 6 individuals, their auras twisted and violent.

"You disgusting devil worshippers," Arnold said coldly. "I'll skin you alive if you don't stop this."

One of the masked figures laughed. "Stop? Do you think you can protect the whole city?"

Arnold raised his hand sharply. "Enough. Do you even understand what you're doing? If Rank 6s like us fight freely, Lionheart City will be erased from the map."

He was right.

Devil Worshippers.

Just like there were benevolent gods in the Origin World, there were also malevolent gods—beings that thrived on death, despair, and destruction. These gods fed on chaos itself. Those who followed them were called Devil Worshippers.

They spread disaster in the name of their gods, believing that by offering death and suffering, they would gain favor and eventually be "embraced" by their god. Their words were full of madness, the kind only true fanatics could believe.

In the past, these cults were mostly limited to the Origin World.

But not anymore.

Some awakened humans, especially those with low ranks and weak foundations, were easily tempted. Power offered without effort, strength without discipline—many couldn't resist it.

That was why Mike's mother had been worried.

When Mike returned with so much wealth and power, enough to support the whole family, even though he was only an F-rank awakened, she had feared something was wrong.

This was the truth behind that fear.

Power that came too easily often had a price.

"I didn't know we had such a powerful necromancer," one of the Rankers from City said looking down at the Origin Zone where an interesting scene was playing out compared to whole city this place was much more contained all thanks to powerful Undeads that are battling the monsters.

As the two sides were staring each other down, they suddenly looked below.

A massive undead army had appeared.

Thousands upon thousands of Mythical Death Lords and Mythical Liches filled the streets and open areas, their auras overlapping and crushing the air itself.

"…How is this possible?" another voice said stiffly. "All of them are Mythical rank."

Even the city's top forces usually needed five or six Rank 6 experts just to handle a single Death Lord.

"But this…" the speaker's voice trembled. "There are over thirteen thousand Death Lords and Liches."

"Just maintaining two or three Death Lords of the same rank is already difficult," another masked figure said, clearly shaken. "How can someone control an army this large?"

Even the masked enemies were stunned.

The leading masked figure recovered first and shouted, "Grab the necromancer. We're taking her away!"

"Do you think we're dead just because we're not fighting?" Arnold's voice boomed across the sky.

Lightning pulsed violently as the clouds above Lionheart City twisted. In the next second, massive arcs of lightning spread out, covering the entire city like a dome.

The pressure instantly changed.

"Haha—now we can fight freely," John said with a sharp laugh.

Golden liquid light flowed out from his body, forming glowing patterns in the air. Most people didn't know this, but John wasn't just a merchant or family head—he was a fighter.

And not just any fighter.

He was one of the strongest Rank 6 experts alive.

At Rank 5, he had already touched the Rules of the World—fragments of the laws that governed reality itself. John's authority was Eternal Gold, allowing him to create, shape, and weaponize golden energy into devastating spells.

Golden spears, chains, and sigils formed around him, radiating terrifying power.

The masked figures stiffened.

Unlike them—false Rankers empowered by Dark Gods—John and Arnold were true Rankers. Their power was earned, refined, and stable. Even if the masked group had numbers, the difference in quality was obvious.

"Are you really going to abandon the city for a single girl?" one masked figure asked coldly.

Arnold laughed mockingly. "Are you blind? Can't you see my Zephyr Lightning covering the entire city? No harm will come to it."

He glanced sideways at John. "And John here can take on five of you alone. I'll handle city defense. Plus, there are four more on our side—each of them can deal with two or three of you by themselves."

John's grin widened, sharp and predator-like—nothing like the calm merchant most people knew.

If Mike were here to see this, he wouldn't recognize this version of John at all.

The masked figures hesitated.

That hesitation was a mistake.

John moved.

In the next instant, dark-golden light exploded from his body like a raging sun. The air shattered under the pressure as his aura surged forward.

"Madness," one of the masked figures muttered in disbelief.

A massive golden seal formed in front of John, stopping a wave of dark-yellow energy that had been fired at him. The attack shattered on contact, dispersing into sparks.

John didn't stop.

He stepped forward once—and the distance vanished.

Golden chains shot out, splitting into Eight paths, locking onto Eight masked figures at the same time.

Behind him, Arnold looked at others.

"David," Arnold called calmly.

A giant figure stepped forward.

David, the Guild Leader of the Iron Jaw Titans, an SS-class awakened Titan Knight, took out his shield.

"I'll protect the city," David nodded already knowing what Arnold want from him.

As Light erupted from him covering the whole city with a Silvery White light reinfocing the barrier Arnold created.

"Tina, Ray, Leon," Arnold continued. "Support John."

Three powerful figures moved instantly, their auras flaring as they charged toward the battlefield.

John was already fighting eight masked enemies alone.

Golden blades formed around him, spinning like a storm as he laughed wildly.

"So this is what Dark Gods give you?" John mocked.

"Not just five—I can take all of you alone!" he roared, charging forward without hesitation.

"He truly deserves the name Mad Bull," Ray said as he drew his bow. As a Storm Archer, lightning crackled around the string.

Tina nodded beside him. Golden light shimmered around her priestly robes as she raised her staff, casting powerful buffs on John first, then spreading them to the others.

Leon stepped forward silently. Two blood-red blades appeared in his hands, their jagged edges pulsing with killing intent.

The Blood Moon Assassin vanished into the shadows, ready to strike.

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