As Galan continued to destroy Hydra's secret bases, Maierin led Deathmask to the entrance of Sebastian Shaw's research facility.
"Boss, is this the place?" Deathmask asked. Compared to addressing Maierin as "Lord" with a serious tone, the street-smart Deathmask preferred calling him "Boss." In his heart, Maierin wasn't just a god—he was more like a big brother.
There was an unbridgeable gap between gods and humans, but the distance between people could be infinitely reduced.
"You already sensed it, didn't you?" Maierin asked.
Deathmask's face darkened. He could feel the subtle fury hidden beneath Maierin's smile. More than that, he could sense it—just beyond this door, an overwhelming aura of resentment lingered.
In front of them stood a concentration camp on the outskirts of the city.
It wasn't unusual for such places to be haunted by vengeful spirits, but the sheer number of tormented souls here was abnormal—so vast it felt like tens of thousands had been massacred within these walls. The density of resentment was so thick that even Deathmask, who was accustomed to seeing souls, found it chilling.
"Deathmask."
"Boss, what are your orders?"
"You've been training for a while now, so here's a little test. You'll take care of this yourself—eliminate everyone who deserves to die. If you succeed, I'll reward you. But unless it's absolutely necessary, I won't step in. However, if I have to intervene or if you kill someone who shouldn't die, you fail the test… and your daily training load increases tenfold."
"T-Ten times?!" Deathmask's jaw nearly dropped in shock. His current training regimen was already grueling for an ordinary adult. If it was multiplied by ten, it would be pure torture!
"What's wrong? Are you scared?" Maierin teased, a smirk playing at his lips.
"O-Of course not!" Deathmask huffed, though he was clearly nervous.
This test was difficult—not because of the killing itself. Wiping out all the German soldiers in the concentration camp wouldn't be an issue. With his awakened Sixth Sense and his mastery of Saint Seiya combat techniques, he could handle anything short of an Omega-level mutant or a horde of Alpha-level mutants.
The real challenge lay in the second condition—killing the right people.
Though he had a rough understanding of Maierin's moral judgment, Deathmask wasn't entirely confident in his own ability to make the same distinctions. Moreover, some of the more advanced combat techniques he had learned were still beyond his full control, meaning the risk of collateral damage was high.
"I'd better be careful… If Boss really increases my training tenfold, he'll definitely follow through," Deathmask thought, sweating. Taking a deep breath, he strode toward the concentration camp's entrance.
Before he even reached the gate, the guards shouted at him in German. Though he didn't understand the words, their meaning was obvious.
However…
"So stupid. My hostility is so obvious, and yet they haven't even raised their guns. Is it because I look like a kid? Meh—doesn't matter. They're all going to die anyway…"
The guards paid for their carelessness with their lives. One by one, they collapsed as if suddenly falling unconscious, their faces draining of color.
Deathmask had merely lifted a single finger. A swirling blue energy coalesced at his fingertip, forming a small orb.
"Sekishiki Meikai Ha (Accumulated Corpse Qi: Underworld Wave)."
As Deathmask slowly pushed open the gates of the concentration camp, more and more German soldiers fell lifelessly to the ground.
The alarm blared. Guards poured out, their expressions now wary. No one underestimated the child anymore—because behind him lay a trail of mysteriously lifeless corpses.
More soldiers arrived, weapons aimed at him.
Deathmask sighed theatrically. "I can't understand a word you're saying… Also, could you not point your guns at me? It makes me nervous. And when I get nervous…"
Before he could even finish his sentence, the surrounding soldiers all dropped dead.
"…See? Just like that."
Deathmask's heart remained utterly still. He knew these men deserved to die—spirits of the slain clung to them in the hundreds, not just a few.
"You're being a little too reckless, kid."
"Oh? Finally, someone who speaks properly?" Deathmask grinned as a burly man appeared, accompanied by a group of oddly dressed—or simply bizarre-looking—individuals.
"You're a mutant, aren't you? Poison? Mental attacks? Doesn't matter. You've got two choices, kid—join us, or die," the man said.
His name was Aldrich, an Alpha-level mutant. Despite his muscular appearance, his ability wasn't merely physical strength—he could manipulate air density within a set radius, condensing it into blades sharp enough to cut steel. He was one of Sebastian Shaw's most trusted subordinates.
Since Shaw wasn't present, Aldrich was temporarily in charge. If the research facility was destroyed under his watch, he'd be severely punished. But if he could recruit this powerful-looking child, he'd gain significant merit.
"Is that so? And here I thought you guys were supposed to be impressive," Deathmask sneered.
"Wait… aren't you a mutant too?"
"Eh, doesn't matter. I pick option three—I kill all of you."
"You arrogant little—"
"Ha! Do you really think being a mutant makes you special?"
"You—"
"Whatever, I'm done talking. You can all die now."
"Everyone, attack! Lynzia, reinforce our mental defenses!"
Aldrich felt a foreboding sense of doom as Deathmask moved his fingers slightly. Unwilling to take risks, he immediately ordered his team to strike first. But in the very next moment—
"AAAAAHHHH!"
"What is this?! AAHHH!"
"Please—no! I was forced into this—!"
One by one, Aldrich's subordinates erupted into blue-white flames. These flames weren't hot—in fact, they carried an eerie chill, as if they could freeze the soul itself.
"W-What kind of ability is this?!"
Deathmask grinned. "Oh, this? It doesn't burn your body—it burns your soul!"
"S-Soul?! That's impossible!" Aldrich was terrified, though he tried to mask it.
He subtly activated his ability, attempting to drain the air around Deathmask. Yet, to his shock, the air refused to move—as if an invisible barrier surrounded his enemy.
"You have terrible acting skills, you know?" Deathmask scoffed.
"You… You knew?!"
"Of course. And now, time for my favorite part—watching your pathetic hope get crushed into despair! Hahahaha!"
"Y-You demon—"
"Demon? To you scum, sure. Playtime's over—Sekishiki Konsoen (Accumulated Corpse Qi: Soul Blaze)!"
Aldrich's agonized scream echoed through the camp.
"You filth don't even deserve the chance to reincarnate," Deathmask muttered coldly, stepping over the bodies as he ventured deeper into the facility.
Before long, he reached the research facility's core.
Maierin was already there, sipping coffee while comforting a group of rescued children.
"Boss!"
"All done?"
"Heh, I did good, right?"
Maierin smiled. "Not quite."
In a flash of golden light, a soldier behind Deathmask—gun raised—was instantly decapitated.
"Dammit… I let my guard down when I saw Boss," Deathmask cursed himself.
"First lesson," Maierin said gently. "Never lower your guard until every enemy is confirmed eliminated."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Deathmask muttered, but he knew he had messed up.
"Second lesson—learn how to be a good big brother."
Maierin pointed at the rescued children. "Until Galan returns, you'll take care of them. Do it well, and I'll cancel your tenfold training increase."
"Really?! Heh, just watch me, Boss!"
With great confidence, Deathmask turned to the children and proudly declared—
"Ahem! Listen up! From now on, I'm your big brother!"