Familiar paths guided Kretia through District Fourteen’s spire forest, her senses alert as she indicated a direction where a sorcerer apprentice’s Badge Imprints hovered around four hundred. Grimm’s gaze followed, his presence ominous beneath the Blood-Eyed Pale Mask. Moments later, Kretia paused, a frown crossing her features. “That’s strange… The imprint fluctuations are right here, yet no one’s visible. Could it be a trainee skilled in concealment?” A cold laugh escaped Grimm beneath his mask. He lifted his massive battle axe, a flicker of movement, and dashed toward a clearing a hundred meters ahead. The axe descended with a thunderous impact. The earth trembled violently. Dust rose in thick clouds. Grimm retrieved his axe from the crater it had carved, eyes narrowing on the bloodstain that had mysteriously appeared several meters away. “As expected… this axe feels awkward in my hands,” he thought, a brief flicker of

Grimm and Kretia glided over the barren expanse of blackened soil, descending onto the jagged apex of a solitary spire at the edge of District Eleven. “There’s a Badge Imprint fluctuation of around two thousand over there!” Kretia exclaimed, her voice betraying a hint of awe. Two thousand was no trivial number; with such a surge, even a thousand imprints could grant a sorcerer apprentice provisional Demon Hunter qualifications if they exited the Secret Realm immediately. Two thousand? Without hesitation, Grimm shot toward the source Kretia had indicated. Behind him, Kretia’s heart raced with excitement, trying to keep pace. For days, she had trailed Grimm, observing the unstoppable force he was—a sorcerer apprentice who obliterated every opponent in his path. The overwhelming aura of dominance he exuded had captivated her, elevating him in her mind to an almost legendary idol. What kind of enemy coul

Boom! Boom! Two fire bats erupted from the ground in waves of Undying Flame, each pulse scorching the surrounding soil. A sorcerer apprentice emitted a soft grunt before vanishing from the Secret Realm through a twist in space. “Only 120 Badge Imprints… and I received just sixty,” Grimm muttered, frowning beneath his blood-eyed pale mask. Without Kretia’s guidance, Grimm could no longer sweep through targets with the same precision and speed. Repeatedly striking low-ranking sorcerer apprentices—those barely over a hundred Badge Imprints—significantly slowed his “purge.” Nine days had passed in the Saint Tower Peak Reward, and Grimm still roamed District Eleven’s stone pillar forest. Meanwhile, the apprentices of District Eleven felt as if trapped in an unending nightmare. In the undercurrents of secret exchanges, every remaining elite sorcerer in the district knew that a superhuman from outside had a