Marvel: Hunter-Chapter 329: Thor & Hulk

He raised his trident and moved to meet them.

It had to be said that the trident techniques developed by Atlantians were indeed unique, especially the Spring and Autumn Saber Technique, which seemed tailor-made for the trident.

At this moment, the Flood Dragon Trident was in Blaine’s hands as if it had transformed into a real flood dragon itself. The halberd struck like a dragon emerging from the depths, sweeping across a vast area.

Ho ho ho ho ho...

Suddenly, the instant Blaine swung the trident, a transparent dragon appeared at the tip of the halberd. A red glow leaked from the dragon’s eyes as it bared its fangs, and rings of tangible sound waves rapidly spread outward.

"The Roaring Dragon."

"Is it finally triggered?"

Buzz, buzz...

In that moment, waves of dragon chants seemed to echo throughout the entire arena. Very few people inside could still remain standing. Those closest to Blaine were even blown apart by the dragon’s roar, blood streaming from their seven orifices.

The roar did not only reverberate through the arena, but also affected the spectator stands. In mild cases, people suffered splitting headaches, tinnitus, dizziness, and a constant buzzing in their ears. In more severe cases, they spat blood and collapsed unconscious. As for races with especially sensitive hearing, some were directly killed.

In an instant, after the roar faded, the entire arena turned into a field of Shura and bloodshed.

The ground was already soaked crimson, corpses strewn everywhere. There had been many bodies before, but now Blaine could barely find a place to step.

"So strong..."

"Still a tough nut to crack?"

"Hmph, I like it."

Even Grandmaster on the high observation deck was not spared. If not for the spatial polymer glass in front of him, which filtered out most of the sound waves, he would probably have vomited several mouthfuls of old blood. Even so, the glass before him was covered in fine cracks.

"Go."

"Bring the Hulk out."

"Oh right, and that Thunder Boy too."

"Hmm?"

"Release those things as well."

"Let them all out. Stretch their muscles and bones."

After a moment of consideration, Grandmaster seemed to have made up his mind and spoke to Loki beside him.

"Are you sure?"

"Letting Hulk and the Thor out is one thing,"

"But even those things have to be released?"

Loki asked in return, a trace of unease in his voice. Those things were not like Hulk. They were even more unsettling than Hulk, and more terrifying than Blaine.

"That’s right. Let them show him some color."

As he finished speaking, Grandmaster’s expression grew solemn. His eyes narrowed into slits, like a venomous snake that had been lying in wait for a long time, ready to strike.

"Don’t forget what happened last time."

"They’re beyond our control."

"If they go berserk,"

"everyone in the arena today will be buried with them,"

"including those innocent spectators."

Like Thor, Odin had also tempered Loki. In the past, Loki had been arrogant and unrestrained, believing that being born a god meant he was naturally superior. In his eyes, others were nothing more than ants, their lives insignificant.

But now Loki was no longer that ignorant and conceited youth. His mind had matured greatly.

If this order had been given before, Loki would have carried it out without hesitation. But not now. When the images of those beasts surfaced in his mind, Loki felt a fear even greater than what his sister Hela inspired.

At this moment, he thought of the innocent lives involved and the possible consequences. He hesitated and tried to dissuade Grandmaster.

This alone showed just how terrifying the power Grandmaster intended to unleash was.

"Are you questioning my decision?"

Seeing the ugly look on Loki’s face, Grandmaster’s tone suddenly hardened, his voice rising. Loki might be silver-tongued, but that depended on the timing.

Seeing that Grandmaster was on the verge of anger, Loki did not dare linger and hurried toward the door.

Suddenly, a surge of electricity coursed through him. Loki instantly felt the device around his neck release a powerful current. As he turned his head, he caught sight—just before collapsing to the ground—of Grandmaster holding a controller in his hand. Just like that, Loki tasted what Thor often endured.

"This is the price of disloyalty to me!"

At the final moment before losing consciousness, Loki likely never imagined Grandmaster could be so ruthless. He had shown only a trace of hesitation, yet Grandmaster had struck him down without mercy.

"Drag him out."

"And carry out what I said earlier."

"Release them."

"Don’t keep my audience waiting."

After issuing the order, Grandmaster turned around and happily settled back onto the sofa before the glass, continuing to enjoy the spectacle.

"Yes, my lord."

From the shadows, a cold voice responded. Someone grabbed Loki by the leg and dragged him away.

"Any objections?"

"Hurry up, don’t waste the master’s time."

"Go on, get started."

"Master, I haven’t had enough fun yet."

Blaine swung the trident around, its blade flashing as it cut through the remaining fighters, while the cold voice beneath the hood echoed once more.

There were fewer than a hundred people left. How could they dare to advance? Thousands, even tens of thousands, had failed to harm him. What could these few remaining fighters possibly do?

At this moment, they felt utterly powerless before Blaine. Wasn’t the gap obvious? Like a mayfly trying to shake a towering tree—nothing but suicide.

The scene from moments ago was deeply etched into the minds of the gladiators. Now, Blaine’s voice sounded like a ferocious ghost from the depths of the Nine Hells, urging death itself. That black-robed figure was like a demon crawling out of hell. Combined with the scarlet blood covering the ground, Blaine seemed like a living, bloody Mephista.

Not only the fighters in the arena, but even the spectators were silent. Everyone held their breath, afraid that Blaine might set his sights on them next and slaughter them without mercy.

This was a stark contrast to the cheers and excitement of earlier battles. It turned out they only enjoyed watching bloody fights—not this kind of ruthless massacre.

And yet, Blaine himself felt something unfamiliar stirring within his chest. He seemed to be affected by the madness of the slaughter. His hands and feet felt cold, his lips faintly pale.

Since becoming a Bounty Hunter, until now, the most number of those he had killed were the Kree. But Kree’s kills were all clean headshots, his focus entirely on Ronan, so he never felt anything like this.

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