The continent of Omniscienta, domain of the Omniscient Ruler Beta, gleamed with the pinnacle of technological advancement and intellectual achievement. Here, within Beta's meticulous domain, Heptad Rank 4 operated with calculated precision and overwhelming power.
Steve Rivers—known throughout the lands as the Herculean—was a living testament to physical perfection. Standing at an imposing 200cm, his physique was a masterpiece of sculpted muscle and efficient power, each movement betraying the Divine-level exploiter ability that flowed through his veins. At thirty years old, with chiseled features that had graced countless magazine covers, Steve was as infamous for his playboy lifestyle as he was feared for his combat prowess.
He had awakened his extraordinary powers at seventeen, though his journey had begun much earlier. From the tender age of ten, he had trained within Beta's elite forces, his natural talent evident even then. This early immersion allowed him to adapt to his abilities with remarkable speed once they manifested, mastering them with a precision that earned him his place among the Heptad by nineteen—one of the youngest ever to achieve such an honor.
Today, Steve operated alone. Heptad Rank 2, typically his partner in such endeavors, was occupied with a mission of far greater importance—tracking down the original Steel, whose power was rumored to rival that of the Anchors themselves.
The tower loomed before him, a dark blemish against the pristine landscape of Omniscienta. Steve approached with casual confidence, his massive, intricately designed axe resting on one broad shoulder. The weapon's edge caught the sunlight, a deadly promise glinting along its meticulously honed blade.
A smirk played across his lips as he assessed the structure. "This is probably going to be even easier than I expect," he mused, his voice a deep baritone that seemed to resonate from somewhere deep in his chest. "Better wrap this up quickly."
His phone buzzed with an incoming message. The screen displayed an image of three stunningly beautiful women posed seductively in what appeared to be an exclusive penthouse suite. The accompanying text was simple but effective: "[We are waiting for you, sugar]."
Steve's eyes lit up with boyish excitement, a stark contrast to his imposing presence. "Hahaha! Now I really have to speed things up! The ladies are waiting!"
He widened his stance, his powerful legs tensing as he prepared to unleash his full strength. The ground beneath him cracked under the pressure of his gathering power, small fissures spreading outward like a spider's web. His muscles coiled like industrial-grade springs, storing energy that few beings in existence could hope to contain.
Then, with explosive force, he launched himself skyward. His trajectory carried him high above the tower, the perfect position for what was to come. His axe, now gripped firmly in both hands, began to glow with concentrated energy—a manifestation of his Divine-level ability channeled through his signature weapon.
"SUPER SMASH!" he roared, his voice thundering across the landscape as he descended toward the tower with cataclysmic intent.
The impact was apocalyptic. The axe connected with the tower's summit, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, reality reasserted itself with devastating consequences. The structure didn't merely collapse—it disintegrated. Stone, metal, and the corrupted energy that had permeated the edifice were obliterated in an expanding dome of pure, destructive force.
Harma, Bale, fake Steel, and the corrupted tree—all were reduced to less than dust in that singular, overwhelming attack. The resulting shockwave rippled outward, flattening the surrounding terrain and sending clouds of debris billowing into the sky.
Steve landed with graceful precision amidst the devastation, appearing completely unaffected by the catastrophic display of power he had just unleashed. He dusted off his designer clothes with casual indifference, as though he'd done nothing more strenuous than step through a mildly dusty room.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed Beta's number, his tone as casual as if he were ordering takeout.
"Yo, Beta? Mission accomplished," he reported, his attention already drifting to his evening plans. "Yeah, yeah, it was a piece of cake. Look, I can't come there right now. I'm gonna be a little... preoccupied. I'll be back later."
Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, tucked the phone away, and strode off, leaving the scene of utter destruction behind without a second glance.
***
The ancient continent of Land Etherna pulsed with primal energy, its vast landscapes untamed and wild. Here, Alpha—the wisest and most powerful of the Anchors—maintained his domain with a philosopher's wisdom and a warrior's vigilance.
Under his command served Heptad Rank 1 and Rank 7, though the former was currently engaged in a mission of cosmic significance, having been dispatched to a different planet to contend with threats that dwarfed even Steel's ambitions.
This left Trevor Tigris, Heptad Rank 7, to address the tower's corruption alone. Unlike the flamboyant Steve Rivers, Trevor operated with predatory focus, his Transcendent-level exploiter ability allowing him to transform into a beast of terrifying proportions and power. Throughout Land Etherna, whispers of the "King of Beasts" traveled on fearful lips, tales of his ferocity spreading like wildfire.
The tower that had sprouted in Alpha's domain stood isolated in a clearing, nature itself seeming to recoil from its corrupting presence. Trevor approached with measured steps, his tall, lithe frame concealed beneath a flowing black cloak that rippled like liquid shadow with each movement. His eyes—amber with vertical pupils that betrayed his bestial nature—surveyed the structure with clinical detachment.
Without ceremony, he pushed open the massive gates, the ancient mechanisms giving way to his strength without resistance. The interior was shrouded in oppressive darkness, the air thick with malicious intent.
From the shadows emerged Harma, his hulking form dwarfing Trevor's human shape. The massive axe in his grip seemed designed for far more than mere combat—it was an instrument of terror, meant to intimidate as much as to destroy.
"I am Harma," the giant growled, his voice echoing through the chamber like distant thunder. "Your death awaits at my hands."
Trevor's heightened senses quickly assessed the energy levels of all beings within the tower. A dismissive smirk curved his lips, revealing canines slightly too sharp to be fully human.
"I won't even need to transform for this," he murmured, his voice carrying the low, dangerous rumble of a predator contemplating prey barely worth the effort to hunt. "My base form is more than enough to deal with these weaklings."
Enraged by the apparent dismissal, Harma charged with surprising speed for his size, his axe cleaving the air with deadly intent. But Trevor moved with the fluid grace of a natural predator. His hand shot out, catching the axe's head mid-swing as though intercepting a child's toy.
For a moment, their tableau held—the massive Harma, muscles straining, attempting to force his weapon through Trevor's seemingly casual grip. Then, with nothing more than a subtle flexing of his fingers, Trevor shattered the axe into fragments, the metal shrieking in protest before surrendering to his superior strength.
Harma stared in disbelief at his destroyed weapon, a fatal moment of hesitation. Trevor's hand blurred with preternatural speed, his fingers elongating into razor-sharp claws that gleamed in the dim light. With surgical precision, he separated Harma's head from his shoulders, the strike so swift that Harma's expression hadn't even time to register fear before his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
Trevor continued deeper into the tower, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of some dark angel of death. On the second floor awaited Bale, his imposing figure silhouetted against the sickly glow of corrupted energy that permeated the chamber.
Bale's eyes locked with Trevor's, attempting to trap him in a mental prison of fear and despair. Trevor felt the pressure against his mind, the probing tendrils of Bale's power seeking purchase in his psyche.
A low chuckle escaped Trevor's throat, a sound that held no humor but promised imminent violence. "Your eyes, they hold tremendous power," he acknowledged, his own amber gaze beginning to glow with internal light. "Let's see if you can handle my half-transformed state."
With that simple declaration, Trevor's body began to change. His muscles swelled, his frame expanding with cracking bones and stretching sinew. Claws extended from his fingertips, gleaming like obsidian daggers. His face elongated partially into a bestial muzzle, teeth sharpening into fangs designed for rending flesh. Even in this intermediate form, he towered over Bale, his presence filling the chamber with primal dread.
Before Bale could process the transformation, Trevor lunged forward, covering the distance between them in less than a heartbeat. His claws tore through Bale's defenses as though they were made of paper, ripping through metal and energy alike with contemptuous ease. Bale had no time to counter, no moment to even comprehend his defeat before he was reduced to scattered fragments of his former self.
Trevor surveyed the pathetically easy victory, frustration building within his powerful frame. This was no challenge, no test worthy of his abilities. He had hoped for at least some resistance, some justification for Alpha sending a member of the Heptad to deal with such a threat.
Anger rose within him, a primal fury at having his time wasted on such insignificant opponents. He threw back his head and roared, the sound transcending mere volume to become a physical force. The walls shook, the ceiling cracked, and the shockwave of his rage tore through the tower's remaining floors like a hurricane through tissue paper.
The corrupted tree on the top floor, along with fake Steel himself, were obliterated by the sheer force of Trevor's frustration. The tower began to collapse around him, unable to withstand the destructive power of his anger.
"Boring," he growled, his voice still carrying the bestial rumble of his partial transformation as he reverted to his human form. "All of them were boringly weak."
With disdainful ease, he navigated the crumbling structure, emerging unscathed as the tower collapsed into rubble behind him.
***
Alpha's sanctum was a place of quiet contemplation, its ancient architecture reflecting the accumulated wisdom of countless ages. Trevor knelt before his master, his report delivered with the efficient precision expected of a Heptad member.
Alpha listened intently, his ageless features betraying little emotion. When Trevor finished, the ancient Anchor nodded slowly, his eyes distant as though seeing far beyond the physical realm.
"You have done well, Trevor," he acknowledged, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. "Now, the only one remaining is the real Steel. He is far stronger than these fakes. In fact, he might be as strong as even I am."
At this revelation, a transformation came over Trevor—not physical, but nonetheless profound. A wide, feral grin spread across his face, his amber eyes gleaming with a hunger that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the primal thrill of facing a worthy adversary.
"As strong as you, huh?" he responded, barely concealed excitement making his voice tremble slightly. "How fucking fun!"
In that moment, Trevor Tigris was no longer merely the King of Beasts—he was the embodiment of the predator's eternal quest for worthy prey, his entire being focused on the promise of a challenge that might, at last, test the limits of his power.