"As a Demon-level Monster, your status will be elevated. Accordingly, you will be expected to undertake more responsibilities."
"No problem."
Jack agreed without hesitation. This was exactly what he'd anticipated. Higher status meant closer proximity to the Monster Association's core. Greater access to resources. A bigger stage.
But he wasn't finished.
"However." His tone shifted slightly. "I have one request."
Behind Little Eyeball, Psykos had already anticipated that Jack wouldn't be entirely compliant. She suppressed the urge to rub her forehead—an irritatingly human gesture she'd never quite shaken—and maintained Great Eyes's cold, imposing persona.
"Speak."
"I wish to continue preparing food for Lord Pochi." Jack's voice carried an almost sincere weight. "If someone else takes over… I'm afraid Lord Pochi might not adjust well."
Psykos: ???
Keeping the feeding duty made a certain kind of sense. Maintaining a good relationship with a peak Dragon-level Monster was strategic. But 'afraid Pochi won't be used to it'? What kind of excuse was that?
"And." Jack continued smoothly, "I require more Monster Cells."
Psykos's silent evaluation sharpened.
Knowing how to leverage available resources—that was a mark of intelligent Monsters. She had too few of those among her subordinates. But actively demanding more Monster Cells…
She recalled the intelligence dossier on this one. Jack seemed to absorb Monster Cells without any visible side effects. His efficiency was astonishing. As if the cells were merely a pure nutritional supplement to his unique constitution.
Interesting.
The path from Wolf-level to Demon-level was smooth enough. But the barrier beyond Dragon-level… that isn't so easily broken.
Very well. Let me see—with abundant resources, how far can this new "Bug God" climb.
A beat of silence. Then Psykos's distorted voice returned.
"Very well. Effective immediately, Monster Cell supply will increase from once weekly to once daily."
A strange anticipation flickered in Little Eyeball's single eye.
"Oh ho ho ho ho~~"
"Do not disappoint me, Bug God."
The laugh—genuinely villainous, genuinely pleased—echoed through the passage. Little Eyeball gave Jack one last meaningful look. Then, just as it had appeared, the pinkish-purple figure silently melted into the shadows and vanished.
Jack stood motionless, feeling the residual psychic fluctuations fade from his mind.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across the corners of his mouth beneath the dark faceplate.
Once a week → once a day.
That wasn't just a raise. That was a transformation of his resource economy. Weekly salary to daily pay—and the quantity increased without a price hike.
He's rich.
He's really rich now.
Psykos probably thought she was making a strategic investment. Testing a "tool" with more fuel. But for Jack, it was like getting a pillow exactly when sleep hit. Charcoal delivered fresh to snow.
With a stable, generous "salary"…
Plus his two BUG-level UR abilities—Megaton Split and Fusion Combination…
A plan crystallized in his mind, fully formed and audacious.
Main body stationed at the Association. Collect Psykos's daily "salary." Dispatch countless split bodies to hunt, explore, and cause controlled chaos outside. Earn massive "side income" from every direction.
This wave…
Heat surged through his body. Unprecedented motivation filled every limb.
This wave is—
WOOOOHOOO, TAKING OFF!
One Week Later
In the first week after his promotion to Demon-level combatant, Jack's days had become… pleasant.
First: the treatment upgrade.
His original lair—cramped, dim, barely functional—had been replaced with something far more spacious. Actual rooms. Furniture. A bed. A sofa. A bathtub. It was like fast-forwarding from caveman existence to luxury villa overnight.
No Wi-Fi. But otherwise? Nothing to complain about.
His territory had expanded several times over. The number of Tiger-level Monsters under his command had quadrupled. Wolf-level Monsters were too numerous to count.
But most importantly: the salary.
Every day, without fail, a stone Monster responsible for logistics would appear at the entrance of his new lair. In its hands: a cloth bag containing exactly one hundred Monster Cells.
Seven days. Seven hundred Monster Cells.
Seventy thousand Origin Points, steady and predictable, flowing directly into his account.
And that was just the base.
Add to that his daily main job—delivering food and snacks to Lord Pochi, maintaining that critical relationship. Add occasional patrols through his territory, randomly culling passing Monsters or eliminating undesirable elements. Add the slow, steady drip of incidental income.
Every day, the number in his Origin Point account climbed higher.
This is the life.
Indeed. Fighting and killing were for brutes. Human relations—or the monster equivalent thereof—were the true path to workplace success.
Just as Jack was contemplating how to convert his growing fortune into immediate combat power, a familiar psychic ripple descended without warning.
He looked up. His fingers, which had been idly toying with a Monster Cell, stilled.
At the entrance to his lair, half-hidden in shadow, a pinkish-purple one-eyed creature hovered. Its tiny wings flapped rhythmically. Little Eyeball. Great Eyes's surveillance clone.
"Bug God." The voice that echoed in Jack's ears carried an imperious, Dio-like quality. "I have a mission for you. Follow my clone. Come see me."
No pleasantries. No explanation. Little Eyeball simply turned and floated into the deep darkness beyond the threshold.
Jack rose. He brushed non-existent dust from his carapace—a habit he couldn't shake—and followed at an unhurried pace.
This was his first venture into the Monster Association's core territory.
The passages grew wider with each step. Artificial carvings began to appear on the rock walls—deliberate, almost ceremonial. Torches and oil lamps cast flickering light across the stone. And occasionally, he sensed Monster auras far more potent than anything his former neighbors had possessed.
Finally, Little Eyeball led him into a colossal underground space. A palace, almost.
At its center, suspended in mid-air on a massive floating throne, sat an enormous pinkish-purple creature. Bloated. One-eyed. Four-armed.
Great Eyes. Dragon-level.
The thing was immense—by rough visual estimate, more than twice Jack's own height. And radiating from it, filling every corner of the vast chamber, was a boundless ocean of Psychokinesis. Tangible as deep blue tsunami waves. The oppressive weight of it seemed designed to crush any being bold enough to enter.
Jack walked through it as if strolling through a gentle breeze.
His dark faceplate betrayed nothing. No strain. No fear. He stopped before the throne and offered a slight bow.
Behind that massive form, he knew, was a perfectly proportioned psychic older sister pulling all the strings. This so-called pressure was mostly for show. A dominance display.
Nice try.
Behind Great Eyes's exterior, Psykos observed. She saw no flicker of tension in his carapace. No hesitation in his step.
Her lips—her real ones, hidden deep within the Association's core—pouted slightly. A touch disappointed.
Tch. This one's restless, but his psychological fortitude is better than expected.
"Bug God." Great Eyes's voice emerged—sinister, twisted, despite lacking any visible mouth or vocal organs. Monsters defied common sense. "You're here."
Jack waited.
"A new member recently joined our ranks. Wind of Cyclone." The massive eye focused on him. "He recommended another. A human powerhouse who willingly underwent Monsterification. Flame of Impure Ardor."
Another recruit. Jack filed the information away.
"Their arrival will further expand our Association's influence. However." A pause. "Wind of Cyclone is currently at a critical stage—integrating ninjutsu with his newfound Monsterification power. He cannot be distracted."
Translation: You're the errand runner.
"You will take Monster Cells. Travel to M City. Locate Flame of Impure Ardor. Complete this recruitment mission."
The massive eye narrowed slightly.
"Any problems?"