Bloodstar System: Infinite Evolution Through Beast Slaughter

Chapter 14: No Names, Only Code Numbers!

Joren did not answer.

He silently put the map away and tucked it into his clothes.

That indifferent attitude annoyed the fixer.

The Talent Joren had upgraded the previous night, [Bladeborn Frame], was still changing in subtle ways inside his body.

As he moved, his spine suddenly trembled.

Clang.

A crisp sound rang out of nowhere.

It was not the dull grind of bone.

It sounded more like two peerless blades striking each other inside their sheaths, a clear ring of metal against metal.

The fixer, who had been about to return to work, jerked his hand. The welding flame almost singed off his own eyebrow.

He snapped his head around, his cloudy eyes filled with suspicion.

His gaze swept through the narrow room.

At last, it locked onto Joren.

"What the hell are you carrying?"

That sound just now had been like a fine alloy combat blade leaving its sheath.

But the kid’s hands were clearly empty.

"Nothing."

Joren answered lightly.

He turned and walked toward the rolling shutter door.

"Hey!"

For some reason, the fixer called after him.

"That trash crew may be rotten, but the man leading them, Tavian, has some real skill."

"If you want to live, talk less and swing your blade more."

Joren did not stop.

With his back to the fixer, he only raised a hand and waved once.

His figure soon disappeared into the dim night.

The fixer looked away and spat.

"Freak."

Zzzzt.

Blinding sparks from the welding torch lit up again.

...

Early morning.

The sky had only just begun to brighten, and the air carried a damp, cold smell of rust.

Outside the north checkpoint, several heavily modified off road vehicles were parked along the roadside.

Steel plates and spikes had been welded across their bodies, making them look like iron beasts crouched in the mist.

A few rough looking men squatted beside the vehicles, smoking.

Their combat clothes were a mismatched mess. Some had even hung pieces of unknown Voidbeast bone on themselves as decorations.

Every one of them had vicious eyes and the thick aura of men who had killed before.

"Where is the rookie the fixer mentioned?"

Arlen spat out the cigarette butt in his mouth and glanced impatiently at the mechanical watch on his wrist.

"Damn it. If he does not show up soon, I am leaving."

Beside him, Evric let out a strange laugh.

He was playing with a dagger in his hand.

"What is the hurry?"

"Without some meat bait, that armored lizard will not be easy to draw out."

"Let us hope this one has thick skin. Would be boring if he gets bitten to death in two moves."

The men were still tossing around dirty jokes when a figure walked out of the morning fog in the distance.

Thin.

Lean.

A washed pale sling bag hung over one shoulder.

In his hand was a boning knife without even a sheath.

Joren walked up to them and stopped.

His gaze swept calmly over the group of brutal looking thugs.

"1047."

He gave his number.

His voice was cold.

"Reporting in."

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.

Then came wild, unrestrained laughter.

"Pfft, hahaha!"

The skinny man called Evric laughed so hard he bent forward and backward.

The dagger in his hand nearly slipped and stabbed into his own thigh.

"1047?"

"Rookie!"

Evric exaggeratedly wiped tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

He darted a few steps over to Joren. His bloodshot eyes moved like a scanner, scraping over Joren from head to toe with malicious interest.

"So this is the meat bait the fixer found?"

Evric stretched out a dirty finger, aiming to poke Joren’s cheek.

The gesture was frivolous.

He did not treat the young man in front of him as a person at all.

Arlen looked just as unlucky about it.

He spat a thick mouthful of phlegm onto the ground.

"Damn burden. Later I will have to waste time collecting his corpse."

The flesh on Arlen’s face trembled.

Anger.

Disdain.

In his eyes, Joren was already dead.

"Hey, kid."

Evric’s finger stopped half an inch from Joren’s face.

Black grime filled the gaps beneath his nails, giving off a nauseating fishy stink.

His gaze fell on the old knife in Joren’s hand, the one without even a sheath.

Mockery almost spilled out of his voice.

"You planning to trim a Voidbeast’s nails with that thing?"

The others burst into laughter again.

It was the cruel amusement of men who lived with death.

Joren’s expression did not shift at all.

His gaze lowered.

Deep in his eyes, a faint green glow seemed to flow.

If that finger moved even a little farther, Joren was confident he could cut it off along with that filthy hand in one tenth of a second.

Even if he was still only Mortal.

Just as Evric’s finger was about to touch Joren’s skin, a hoarse, low voice sounded.

"Enough."

The voice came suddenly, carrying a pressure that allowed no argument.

Even the arrogant Evric pulled his hand back as if shocked by electricity.

The vicious grin on his face instantly turned flattering.

"Tavian."

A man who had been leaning in the shadow of an off road vehicle stepped out.

A hideous scar cut across his face like a centipede.

In his only remaining left eye, there was a cold light like that of a beast.

This man was Tavian.

Captain of Deadwater.

A true Awakened Warrior.

Tavian ignored Evric.

He walked slowly to Joren and fixed his gaze on him.

Evric and Arlen exchanged a look.

Both were waiting for Tavian to lose his temper, drive this ignorant rookie away, or simply break his limbs and throw him out.

But Tavian’s brows only drew tighter.

As an Awakened Warrior who had fought for years on the edge of life and death, he had a beastlike instinct for danger.

In that instant, when Evric reached out, Tavian had felt a chill.

That feeling...

He had only felt it from the people of Antares Command.

Those people were truly terrifying.

Tavian’s gaze settled on Joren’s arms.

"What is your name?"

Tavian suddenly asked.

"1047."

Joren gave the cold number again.

No name.

Only a code number.

Tavian looked into Joren’s eyes.

Three full seconds passed.

"Get in."

Tavian turned and boarded the spike covered off road vehicle.

Evric’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

"We are taking him?"

"He is just trash..."

"Shut up."

Tavian’s cold command came from inside the vehicle.

"Drive."

Evric’s face turned red from being choked off.

He glared fiercely at Joren, his eyes full of resentment.

"If you piss yourself later, stay away from me."

Cursing under his breath, Evric yanked open the door and dropped into the vehicle.

The door slammed shut.

The engine roared.

The iron beast spat out a cloud of black smoke.

Carrying a full load of malice and killing intent, it plunged into the vast morning fog.