Infinity, The Arcade Age

In the Nightmare Space, the headquarters of the King of Fighters Warband was thick with tension.

The high-ranking members gathered, their faces grim as they looked down at the scene below.

Standing before them was the man who had previously clashed with Qin Ming—codename Ghost Thunder, the leader of the failed operation.

After a long silence, one of the senior members finally spoke.

"Thunder, what's the damage from this operation?"

Ghost Thunder's face remained stern as he swiftly reported.

"Out of three hundred low-level adventurers, fewer than a hundred made it back alive. The rest either died during the mission or in the ensuing chaos."

At this, several high-ranking members' eyes twitched violently. One even widened his eyes in shock, clearly shaken by the casualty count.

"Less than a hundred survived?"

"Correct. Additionally, we lost the Sky Fortress. Elite prospects like Force King and Staff King were killed in action. Even Blazing Fire, who was slated for priority cultivation, perished."

The more Ghost Thunder spoke, the darker the expressions of the high-ranking members became.

By the time he finished, one of them could no longer hold back. He slammed the table and stood up abruptly.

"Why were the losses so catastrophic? Everything was planned perfectly! We were supposed to assist General Modern, win the battle, and receive our rewards! What the hell went wrong?"

The loss of so many low-level members was not the real concern.

After all, the Nightmare Space had no shortage of rookie adventurers willing to join warbands.

But the deaths of rare, promising talents, combined with the loss of the Sky Fortress—an asset that cost a staggering 150,000 points just to deploy—was a devastating blow they couldn't accept.

With a grim gaze fixed on Ghost Thunder, the senior member spoke coldly.

"What happened? Who's responsible for this failure?"

Ghost Thunder didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced at the crowd around him.

After a brief pause, he spoke in an indifferent tone.

"It was Hyena, a solo adventurer. His registration number is 441985, classified as a low-level adventurer."

"A solo adventurer?"

"Yes."

"No organization? He single-handedly wrecked your entire operation?"

"Correct. His talent appears highly unusual. He became a commanding officer, and the most problematic part was his soldiers. Their combat prowess was terrifying. Even a single adventurer struggled to take down a ten-man squad and often got counter-killed instead. Most of our adventurers died at the hands of his troops. The final plan was completely disrupted by his airborne reinforcements."

At this point, Ghost Thunder pulled out two reports and solemnly handed them over.

"This is the intel I gathered. By controlling his troops, we confirmed their weapons and equipment. The lowest quality was blue grade. All of it!"

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The high-ranking members exchanged glances, their expressions growing increasingly serious.

"All blue grade?"

"Yes, every single piece."

"And how many soldiers?"

"Over ten thousand."

"Hiss!"

Several members sucked in sharp breaths, their expressions now genuinely grim.

Producing such a vast amount of blue-grade equipment, even if it couldn't be brought back to the Nightmare Space, still spoke volumes about his capabilities.

As the room fell into a tense hush, Ghost Thunder added another chilling detail.

"Honored leaders, I'm sure you remember that mid-level adventurer from the Legion Warband—their prized asset, the Arms Dealer?"

At the mention of that codename, the high-ranking members' eyes flickered.

"Of course. Killing him required twelve warbands and over a thousand elite adventurers working together. In the end, fewer than two hundred made it back alive."

"I suspect he's another Arms Dealer!"

Ghost Thunder's resolute declaration plunged the hall back into silence.

The senior member who had stood earlier sank back into his seat, his brows furrowed in deep contemplation.

Muttering under his breath, he voiced the thought that now weighed heavily on all their minds.

"If he's really an Arms Dealer, then it's no wonder we suffered such heavy losses... no wonder at all..."

The Arms Dealer—a fierce powerhouse of the Legion Warband and a mid-level adventurer.

His rise to fame came during a large-scale war mission, where he helped the Legion Warband annihilate over two thousand adventurers from a rival warband, nearly wiping out their entire mid-to-low-level roster.

His talent, Warlord, was extraordinarily powerful.

Its effect? Any plot-related equipment that couldn't be taken out of mission worlds would automatically be upgraded to blue grade!

No quantity limits, no activation requirements—anything could be enhanced.

With his ability, the Legion Warband swept through every war-type mission world they entered.

After all, such worlds were full of combatants and abundant plot equipment, making them perfect for his talent to shine.

But as the saying goes, "The tallest tree catches the wind." The other warbands, constantly suffering heavy losses, could no longer tolerate the Legion's dominance and monopoly over war-type mission resources.

Twelve warbands formed an elite coalition and executed a targeted decapitation strike during a large-scale mission world.

Using sealing items to prevent his return and resurrection-restriction tools to ensure his death, the strike team pulled out all the stops.

The result was mutual devastation—nearly all of the twelve warbands' elite forces were slaughtered by the Legion's enhanced plot-army.

And the invincible Arms Dealer, who had once led the Legion Warband to unstoppable victories, was officially declared dead.

Hearing that their current opponent might be a similar monster, the high-ranking members sitting at the table turned pale.

The silent leader at the head of the table clenched his fist, crushing the armrest of his chair. Slowly lifting his head, he finally spoke for the first time.

A raspy voice echoed through the room, carrying a terrifying pressure that swept across the hall.

Even through his clothes, the glowing mark on his chest, shaped like a blazing sun, was faintly visible—The Orochi Mark.

"Who provoked him?"

At these simple words, everyone present immediately lowered their heads. Even the usually composed Ghost Thunder swallowed nervously.

"R-reporting to the King of Fighters, he had a prior conflict with one of our warband's key members—Wind."

"Wind? Isn't he dead?"

"Yes, sir. He's already died twice—both times at that person's hands."

"Then why did he end up in the same world as us this time?"

"I've investigated. Staff King, trying to curry favor with Lord Ghost Flame, recklessly dragged him into the mission world, hoping to kill him along the way."

At Ghost Thunder's report, the room fell into silence once more.

The King of Fighters slowly turned his gaze toward Ghost Flame, whose face had gone deathly pale.

Taking a deep breath, the King of Fighters closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again.

"Find him. Recruit him. Let him set his own terms. It's better to resolve hostilities than escalate them. Tell him that if he joins our King of Fighters Warband, one of the Eight Herald spots will be his. Bloodline, skills, equipment—everything will be provided."

"Understood! But... what if he refuses?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he refuses, sir?"

"Then capture him. Offer him one last chance to cooperate. But if he remains obstinate..."

The King of Fighters' eyes flashed coldly.

"...then make sure he sleeps forever, as though this Arms Dealer never existed."

"Understood!"