An hour ago. Toronto, Canada.

The country had just recorded an all-time low in active Leaks on land when the new mode was introduced. Nearly eighty percent of them disappeared at once. Most simply vanished. Others shifted—changing into Survivor-mode Leaks.

They had been fortunate. Most of those Survivor-mode Leaks produced weaker Heroes, and with the information Beatrice had shared with the rest of the IBAA, they were closed quickly and efficiently.

It gave the country a moment to breathe. Just a moment.

Because one particular Leak, silent since its inception, finally stirred.

And it happened to be the one that had formed near one of Canada’s only two S-tier Heroes, the Carnage Strongman. Mark.

And of course, he had been delegated as the Emperor of the Survivors.

Like most countries, they hadn’t understood what was happening at first. But information spread quickly through the IBAA, and piece by piece, the situation began to take shape.

By the time Beatrice’s report reached them, Mark was already preparing to enter the Leak.

But he never got the chance. The other side came to them first.

Not in a flood like the one Adam faced—no. Only ten figures stepped out at first.

"Vets?" Mark muttered, his voice quiet as he stared at the aliens emerging from the breach. Yes, no Heroes stepped out just yet.

And behind him stood his guild.

[Justin, the True Dodger]

[Stephen, the Harp Eraser]

[Paul, the Marred Tinkerer]

Four of Canada’s strongest Heroes. S, A, A, and A-tier—bound to the same organization.

They exchanged brief glances, confusion passing between them.

Veteran Creeps? That didn’t make sense.

The Crystal that had embedded itself in Mark was Black—which humans consider the highest threat classification. By all accounts, this Leak should have been a nightmare for the other side.

And yet... all they sent was... this?

"Wait..." Paul narrowed his eyes, his head wrapped in bandages, belts of strange tools cinched tightly across his body. "Don’t they look like the Emperor from the Games? Harp—can you check?"

"They do?" Stephen tightened his grip on his harp, fingers brushing lightly across its strings. His eyes flared, enhancing his vision as he focused. "I... think you’re right. They do. But, they’re shorter?"

"That doesn’t matter." Justin stepped forward, daggers spinning loosely in his hands. "All we need to—?!"

He ducked before he could finish. Steel whistled over his head—close enough to take his scalp with it.

"No, you don’t!" Justin’s grip tightened as he twisted, slashing low at the ankle of the alien that had closed the distance in an instant.

The blade connected, and the alien collapsed to one knee. Taking this chance, Mark came in from behind, his arms locking around the creature’s waist in a crushing hold. The armored figure struggled—but only for a moment.

Mark squeezed, his arms which previously looked like they were just balls of fat hardened, and each muscle fiber practically turned into steel.

A sharp, violent crack split the air as the alien’s armor caved. The metal buckled inward, folding with the body trapped inside it. The bones, shattering into pieces as the alien was bent completely in half and blood poured from the seams of its helmet.

But Mark didn’t become complacent at all. He turned toward the other aliens, carefully observing them—but to their surprise, none of them moved or retaliated after he killed one of them. In fact, even from afar, and even with their armors on, they looked... smug.

No, they didn’t just look smug, they were. One of them was even gesturing to Mark to attack, waving at him.

"We... need to be careful," Mark said. "Don’t treat them as monsters. Remember, we die here... ...Toronto is done for."

"Don’t worry about it too much." Stephen plucked a string, and the corpse of the alien in front of him disappeared, along with the ground. "We’re not going to lose."

And he was right. Although the battle was exhausting, it wasn’t that difficult—the battle lasted for thirty minutes, and a minor injury here and there.

"I told you," Stephen said, wiping a bead of sweat from his face. "They weren’t anything spe...cial?"

"Harp?" Paul squinted, looking at Stephen’s face as he suddenly stopped speaking. He approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and lightly shaking him. "Harp. What’s—"

Before Paul could finish, however, he casually and instinctively caught Stephen’s head.

"Huh...?"

Yes. Stephen’s head unceremoniously just slid away from his neck. Stephen probably didn’t even know he died then, as his body was still standing tall. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that his body dropped, and Paul gazed down at his decapitated head.

"Paul!" Justin pulled Paul back, a circular blade whistling passed an inch away from his throat. Mark’s eyes followed the flying blade, which was caught by an alien a few yards away from them. An alien... who they didn’t even hear or notice arriving.

The alien spun the circular blade around his finger, and unlike the earlier aliens, they could clearly see the mocking smile on its—no, on her face. The name above her head was also clear for everyone to see.

[Vera, the Dancer of Karvaan]

Vera smirked at Paul, her lips reaching from ear to ear. Her extremely black eyes and incredibly gray and pale face, its lack of a protruding nose, made her look even more sinister. But of course, her sharp teeth was probably what made her look even more monstrous.

Then, without any warning, Vera threw the large circular blade toward Paul again. This time, Justin threw Paul, raising his dagger and catching the circular blade right in its hollow center.

"Kh!" Justin’s feet skidded back, and he had to use both arms to prevent the spinning blade from slicing his head. The blade spun violently around his dagger before he threw it down, letting it dig through the ground next to his feet.

And then, before Justin could do anything else, Vera suddenly appeared right in front of him, slipping her foot through the circular blade and kicking up.

"What the?!" Justin stepped back, leaning his head back to dodge the blade flying at his face. While he did so, however, Vera pulled out another circular blade from behind him. But before she could actually swing it, Mark grabbed her by the wrist.

Vera’s eyes widened, but she suddenly twisted her body, almost dancing away. Her wrist was instantly dislocated, but she didn’t seem to care as she managed to slip out from Mark’s grip.

She quickly leaped away, tumbling several times back toward the Leak. She stood there, gripping her dislocated arm before casually tugging and turning it back to their sockets. She glared at Mark, then pulled out four more circular blades from behind her.

She was about to rush forward, but a couple more figures stepped out from the Leak behind her, one of them placing a hand on her shoulder.

[Vanon, the Slaughterer of Peace]

[Vulmo, the Navi Crusher]

Vanon was... a lot taller than Vera, and even the other alien it stepped out with.

"Shit..." Paul, still holding Stephen’s head, gasped as he saw Vanon. "Now that... really looks like the Emperor."

Vanon, unlike his peers, stood almost twelve feet tall. And like the Emperor during the Games, his long white hair reached his waist, but that wasn’t all. This one seemed aged, crow’s feet on the side of his eyes, and a long, luscious white—no, silver beard that also reached his waist.

And his weapon of choice? Almost the same exact sword Adam wields. Even the color and patterns were similar. His armor, a glittering black.

As for Vulmo, he also wielded a weapon larger than his body—a hammer. And from the teeth protruding from it, it was made from a monster’s jaw.

Vanon was saying something as he gripped Vera’s shoulder. And even though Mark and the others couldn’t understand what they were saying, it was clear that the older alien was scolding her.

Vera groaned in frustration before slipping back her circular blades behind her, only leaving one.

Vulmo also dropped his weapon, but instead of complaining, he even smirked before his eyes darted at Mark and his crew. Ultimately, his eyes settled on Paul. He stared at him, and then pointed before cracking his knuckles; the sound, reaching far.

"Are they... looking down on us?" Paul muttered.

And almost as if to answer his question, Vanon stepped forward and stabbed his large sword into the ground... before bowing his head and placing his hand on his chest.

"Hm..." Mark also stepped forward, also bowing his head at the aliens. "Prepare yourselves... we’re all getting out of this alive."

He was wrong.

Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds was all it took.

Paul was sprawled on the ground, his face caved and cracked open along with the crater beneath him. Mark, well... he was conscious, but his neck was held tightly by Vanon.

The only one who was still fighting was Justin... but fighting seemed to be the wrong choice of word. Vera was just... toying with him.

True to his moniker, the only thing Justin could do was... dodge.