Abyss Outpost, Noon (although there is no sun here, it is noon according to the Netherworld schedule).

  The scorched plaza, once littered with corpses, was now bustling like an interstellar fair. Huge holographic billboards flashed in the air, scrolling advertisements for "Netherworld One-Day Tour" and "Abyss Specialties Mega Sale." The bargaining voices of Spirit merchants and Netherworld Ghost Messengers rose and fell, creating a scene of prosperity and peace.

  But at the highest point of the plaza—atop the vault of the magnificent, newly completed portal—sat a figure completely out of place with this joyous atmosphere.

  The Slayer sat with his legs dangling in the air, a hundred meters high.

  Holding that oilcloth used countless times, he was wiping his Super Shotgun.

  Wipe. Oil. Check the firing pin. Close the breech.

  Open the breech. Dump the shells. Check the primer. Reload.

  *Click.*

  *Click.*

  *Click.*

  This sound was extremely monotonous, yet possessed a heart-palpitating rhythm. Every time the "click" sounded, the plaza below would fall into a strange silence for an instant. Passing Ghost Messengers would subconsciously shrink their necks, and Spirit children would have their mouths covered by their parents.

  Because everyone felt that a nuclear bomb that could explode at any moment was sitting above their heads.

  The Slayer was annoyed.

  On his tactical visor, the [Threat Level] column had displayed a green safe status for 72 consecutive hours.

  No demon invasion.

  No riots.

  Even passing wild monsters detoured and ran away upon seeing the flag of doom planted at the gate.

  Peace.

  This is a blessing for ordinary people.

  But for the Slayer, it was like locking him in a vacuum room without air.

  His finger tapped rapidly on the trigger guard.

  *Tap tap tap tap tap.*

  The frequency became faster and faster.

  Suddenly.

  An Abyss-exclusive "Carrion Fly" (about the size of a sparrow), buzzing unknowingly of its impending doom, flew into the Slayer's alert range.

  It just wanted to find some carrion to eat.

  But in that instant.

  The Slayer moved.

  His movement was so fast it left an afterimage on the retina.

  He didn't wave his hand to shoo it away.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He jerked his left shoulder up.

  Shoulder cannon auto-lock system activated.

  *Beep—!*

  A red laser dot instantly locked onto that fly.

  The Slayer didn't even need to think; he issued the fire command directly.

  *Bang!*

  A micro high-explosive missile shot out from the shoulder cannon.

  The fly paused in the air for a microsecond, seemingly not understanding why it had encountered anti-aircraft fire.

  *BOOM!*

  A small fireball exploded in the air. Not even ash remained of the fly.

  The crowd in the plaza screamed and scattered, thinking demons were attacking again.

  The Slayer lowered his arm.

  He watched the dissipating smoke.

  Boring.

  Too boring.

  This insignificant slaughter couldn't even make him secrete a shred of dopamine.

  He picked up the shotgun again and continued that dull cycle of actions.

  *Click.*

  *Click.*

  ...

  Netherworld, Control Center.

  Singularity watched the surveillance screen, the cup of wolfberry tea in his hand trembling.

  "It's over... this is a classic 'withdrawal reaction'."

  Singularity looked at the Slayer's psychological state analysis chart on the tablet. The curve representing [Aggression Desire] had broken through the red warning line and was sprinting toward the ceiling.

  "This is like an addict cut off from drugs, or a top hacker cut off from the internet."

  "The Great Hero's current state is too dangerous. He is now like an arrow on a fully drawn bow. If we don't find a target for him to shoot at, the bow will snap itself, or... hurt the person holding the bow (us)."

  Singularity looked at the lonely, irritable, even somewhat desolate back on the screen.

  He could understand that feeling.

  The Slayer was born for destruction. Without demons, he lost the anchor of his existence.

  So-called peace, prosperity, trade, infrastructure... meant nothing to him.

  He only wanted blood.

  Only wanted the sensation of tearing flesh and bone.

  Only wanted the thrill of walking on the edge of life and death.

  "No, we can't let him be idle like this."

  Singularity stood up abruptly and began searching frantically on the star map.

  "We must find something for him to do! Where are the monsters? Where are the riots? Even another plane is fine! Quick, search for me!"

  Just as Singularity was desperately trying to find a "playground" for this master.

  On the screen, the Slayer, who had been staring blankly into the void, suddenly stopped wiping his gun.

  He stood up abruptly.

  The movement was so large that he even crushed a decorative stone slab under his feet.

  He looked up.

  Not looking deep into the Abyss.

  But... looking overhead.

  Looking at the non-existent "sky" (the Abyss has no sky, only rock domes and void turbulence).

  On his visor, the originally green safety indicator suddenly turned into a warning yellow.

  The Slayer's hand slowly tightened around the gun grip.

  That was the reaction of a hunter smelling prey.

  And this time, the prey...

  Smelled wrong.

  Not that rotten sulfur smell.

  But a kind of... disgusting, hypocritical, high-and-mighty "fragrance."

  The Slayer tilted his head.

  *From above?*

  ...

  Singularity also noticed the Slayer's anomaly.

  "What's wrong? The radar isn't reacting?"

  Singularity quickly turned the power of all scanners to the maximum.

  *Beep—Beep—Beep—*

  Finally, amidst the noisy background radiation, a trace of extremely faint but extremely powerful energy ripple was captured.

  That ripple did not come from the Abyss.

  Nor from the Netherworld.

  It penetrated vertically down from a higher-dimensional space.

  Peace vs Warpath.

  The Slayer finally waited for a ripple.

  He issued no warning.

  He just loaded the Super Shotgun, which had been wiped shiny, heavily once again.

  *CLACK-CLACK!!!*

  This sound was louder and crisper than any previous time.

  That was... the dinner bell.

  Singularity looked at the back on the screen that instantly entered combat mode, then looked at the eerie ripple from "above," and suddenly had an ominous premonition.

  "That energy... golden? And a bit... holy?"

  Singularity swallowed.

  *Next Chapter: Anomalous Energy Fluctuation. The Slayer senses someone peeping from overhead. Singularity discovers that this visitor... seems not to be a demon?*