Chapter Thirty-Four: One Against Ten

In the vast, empty training ground, the electronic voice continued its countdown:
“Ten, nine, eight, seven... three, two, one.”
A metallic hiss signaled another door opening.
Directly opposite Mosa, a steel door slid aside.
No mutated synthetic beast appeared at first, but a cacophony of snarling echoed from within.
There were clearly more than one.
The creatures inside, seemingly unused to the bright lights after so long in darkness, shielded their eyes with their forelimbs as they emerged.
Once they adjusted, their gaze fixed on Mosa, whose face radiated arrogant confidence.
“Roar! Roar! Roar!”
Catching the scent of prey, they growled, their deep voices reverberating throughout the arena.
Drool pattered incessantly onto the floor.
Had Ye Chen been here, he would have been utterly stunned by the scene before him.
For now, the arena had been flooded with ten mutated synthetic beasts.
Each one was as formidable as the creature Ye Chen had just subdued—some even more robust.
Ye Chen referred to them as “bizarre creatures,” but in truth, an inner-city institute had already named them “mutated synthetic beasts.”
They still retained the hybrid form—half human, half beast—their stitches glaringly obvious in the harsh light.
Human hands for forelimbs, beast legs for hindquarters, all enhanced by unknown methods to be powerful and strong.
The beasts clawed at the metal floor with fierce agitation, producing a shrill scraping sound and leaving streaks of white marks.
Any traces of humanity in their eyes had faded further, leaving only bloodlust and brutality.
Mosa twisted his neck, limbered up his limbs, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
His previously nonchalant demeanor shifted instantly to one of ruthless ferocity.
With a heavy thud, Mosa vanished from where he stood.
Only a dent remained in the spot he’d occupied.
A blurred shadow leapt across half the arena, the wind howling in its wake, and he raised a foot to strike at one of the beasts.

A resounding crack echoed.
The beast’s head exploded like a watermelon smashed against the ground, brain matter and flesh splattering across Mosa’s white athletic pants, causing him to frown.
The beast staggered, then collapsed with a crash.
Before the other beasts could fully react, Mosa seized the neck of a dazed creature at his side.
His arm muscles tensed, twisted, and—
A crisp snap rang out as the beast’s head was nearly turned all the way around.
It convulsed, then fell completely silent.
All this happened in a flash, barely a few breaths, and two of the powerful beasts were already down.
Mosa smiled slightly, evidently satisfied with the display of his leg and arm strength.
The remaining beasts regrouped ahead, their eyes tinged with wariness.
Mosa grabbed the forelimbs of the creature in his arms, spinning it like a windmill and sending several approaching enemies flying with powerful sweeps.
Suddenly releasing his grip, he flung the beast into the rear of the horde, causing chaos.
Two beasts at the front of the pack lunged at the formidable Mosa, one from each side.
Unfazed, Mosa growled, “Fools courting death!”
He charged to meet them, crouching just in time to dodge their claws.
Both hands shot out like twin dragons, gripping their throats.
The heavy beasts could not force Mosa back; instead, he shoved them, knocking others aside as he advanced.
With two thunderous crashes, their heads were slammed into the wall behind them.
Mosa felt the immense strength in his palms and fingers, and his smile grew wider.
The two beasts gripped by the throat opened their mouths as wide as possible, their eyes bulging so fiercely it seemed they might pop out.
Mosa relished this sensation; he enjoyed watching his opponents suffocate slowly in his grasp.
Just as he was immersed in the thrill of slaughter, another beast crept up behind him.
It swiftly stood upright on hind legs, its enormous maw stretched to its ears, triangular teeth gleaming as it bit ferociously at Mosa’s neck.
Yet, teeth that could crush stone and sever steel could not penetrate Mosa’s flawless skin.

The beast froze in disbelief, the last shred of its sanity questioning its own existence.
While Mosa reveled in the resilience of his skin, he suddenly felt cold, sticky liquid trickling down his neck.
Worse still, he realized his hair was smeared with the nauseating, foul-smelling fluid.
In an instant, the smile in his eyes was replaced by a blood-red fury.
The muscles at his mouth twitched and contorted, his expression twisted with immense rage.
The hands gripping the beasts’ throats began to change violently.
Muscles writhed and bulged beneath the skin, bones growing in plain sight, swelling his entire arms.
As the muscles expanded, veins and arteries protruded, transforming his limbs into those of a giant.
Strangely, the mutation was confined solely to his arms, as if he could control it at will.
From a distance, he appeared to be a normal human with a pair of colossal fists.
With a slight exertion of force, Mosa’s fingers pierced deeply into the beasts’ necks.
He gave a sudden, savage pull, tearing out their windpipes.
Putrid blood sprayed across his face, staining his once-handsome features with a crimson hue.
Moments later, the two beasts died completely, sliding lifelessly down the metal wall.
Immediately, Mosa reached over his shoulder, his massive hand easily gripping the head of the beast behind him and dragging it in front.
He seized its hind legs with his other giant hand, hoisted it high, and pulled with brutal strength.
With a sickening rip, the stitches tore, and the fused muscles and skin separated.
The beast was like a rag, ripped cleanly in two.
The scene was bloody and violent; Mosa was no longer the elegant figure who had entered the arena.
He tossed the halves aside like garbage.
At his feet, the beast’s two halves still writhed and squirmed.
Mosa angrily raised his right foot and stomped directly onto the grotesque head.
Another crisp crack, another melon burst beneath his heel.
Turning, Mosa fixed his bloodthirsty gaze on the five remaining beasts in the arena.
He licked the blood from his lips and spoke in a chilling, sinister tone:
“You’ve sullied my hair. Now, I’ll show you what true terror is.”