"There is anything you could desire in the inner city—power, pleasure, or survival—so long as you have the strength to keep it. You can kill anyone after your 24-hour protection expires. However, the outer city is under the Slaughter King's rule. Killing isn't allowed there. You must also pay a Bloody Mary each month and participate in an arena match."
The woman's voice was cold, emotionless, as if she had given this explanation a thousand times before.
Ryan barely acknowledged her words, his sharp gaze sweeping over the city.
Sure enough, the contrast was stark. The inner city was a decadent paradise of excess and depravity. Blood-soaked streets where the strong indulged in their every twisted whim. People were drinking, fighting, fucking, even draining the blood of their victims before taking another sip of their wine as if nothing had happened.
Disgusting.
Meanwhile, the outer city was a slum—a place for the weak, the starving, the ones waiting to be devoured.
Ryan's expression remained indifferent. He wasn't here to play games. He was here to kill.
"Where is the edge of the outer city?"
The woman, Nightingale, tilted her head slightly, studying him. " Over there the white city lines. Why?"
Ryan's voice was calm, almost casual. "Because I want to start now."
Her red eyes narrowed. "If you kill before your protection period ends, you will be on your own."
"Got it."
Before she could say another word, blue lightning erupted around Ryan.
Nightingale's eyes widened in shock.
Then, he was gone.
A deafening crack of thunder split the air.
Lightning tore through the streets like a living beast, moving at impossible speeds. Screams of agony were swallowed by the thunderclaps as entire groups of people simply collapsed.
Ryan moved like a god of destruction.
One moment he was behind a group of men, the next a single bolt of lightning passed through their bodies—a precise, controlled attack that left no external wounds, only fried nerves and hearts stopped in an instant. The next instant, they were gone, stored within the Gate of Babylon.
To the outside observer, it was a massacre in the blink of an eye.
Nightingale's heart pounded. What… what kind of monster…?
Lightning flashed again, and more bodies disappeared. Ryan didn't waste time. Each life he reaped was immediately stored away—their cultivation, spirits, and memories preserved for later assimilation. He was careful, minimizing damage to ensure every soul he harvested was still intact for when he needed them.
The Death God Domain? The Asura God Trials?
They meant nothing to him.
He had no interest in inheriting someone else's legacy. He only wanted power.
His wives were enjoying themselves in the Nine-Tiled Pagoda, eager to uncover the mysteries of its upper floors.
And if they wanted to go higher—then he would give them the means to do so.
Ryan's grin widened as the slaughter continued.
~~~~
Under Ryan's monstrous Observation Haki, every single person in Slaughter City was laid bare before him. Not a single soul could hide. It didn't matter if they were tucked away under floorboards, buried beneath rubble, or locked inside the deepest, most fortified safe houses. Their fear, their presence, their very existence—all of it was exposed to him.
And in mere minutes, the inner city of Slaughter City was annihilated.
Ryan moved like a storm given form.
Lightning ripped through the streets, precise and devastating, striking down thousands before they even had the chance to scream. With every burst of blue electricity, entire groups vanished, their bodies stored away in the Gate of Babylon.
The massacre was unparalleled in Slaughter City's history.
Even the most hardened monsters, murderers, and demons—people who had long abandoned their humanity—stood no chance.
The inner city, the supposed haven for the strong, was reduced to silence.
When Ryan finally reappeared in front of Nightingale, the only sound left was the distant crackle of residual thunder.
Her body froze, a sharp chill running down her spine. She had seen massacres before. She had seen wars.
But this? This was something else entirely.
Ryan stood there, completely unfazed, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement as if he had merely cleaned up some trash.
"I've killed everyone in the inner city." His tone was casual, almost bored. "These houses and everything in them? Mine. The inner city is mine. If anyone steps inside, they pay with their life."
Then, he turned away. "Now, I've got some loot to collect."
And with that, he strolled off, completely at ease.
Nightingale didn't even dare to breathe too loudly. The sheer weight of the massacre pressed down on her chest like a mountain.
This wasn't a man.
This was something far worse.
~~~~
Hours later, deep within his Inner World, Ryan sat upon the Jade Soul Platform, gazing at the mountains of bodies he had stored away.
Over three thousand corpses.
Each one a cultivator, a killer, a warrior.
The Dark Devilgod Tiger spirit within him pulsed hungrily, resonating with his intent. He reached out, and the power of Assimilate surged forth.
A dark vortex swirled into existence, its pull like an abyss.
The first body crumbled into nothingness as pure essence, soul fragments, spirit energy, and memories flooded into Ryan. Cultivation, techniques, combat experience—all of it absorbed seamlessly into his being.
Then the next.
And the next.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Like an unstoppable black tide, his power skyrocketed. Every flicker of soul power, every trace of martial knowledge, every Spirit and Spirit Ring was integrated, broken down, and reforged within him.
His aura surged violently, the energy within his body evolving, adapting, reshaping itself.
His Spirit Power climbed at an absurd rate, surpassing bottlenecks as if they didn't even exist.
His body refined itself further, strength, speed, and resilience pushing past previous limits.
His mind expanded, filled with the memories of thousands of killers—their skills, techniques, and experiences adding to his already overwhelming arsenal.
His Occlumency worked overtime to sort through all the memories, his Dark Devilgod Tiger absorbed all the evil from the bodies tainted by blood and death.