"Richard, you cannot keep doing this!" A sleek feminine voice spoke exasperatedly. 

The one called Richard was currently squatting over the body of a man who was whimpering, his arms broken, displayed in unnatural angles as his face was pressed into the dirt. 

Richard was a thick and robust man with perfect bronze-colored skin, muscles that were tighter than steel, and a height that was around just below 6 inches. Unlike Local Shitlord who also bore this same structure, this fellow was actually quite handsome. 

With a chiseled V-shaped face, two sharp green eyes, and a top fade with slicked-back brown hair in the middle. With his thick brown mustache and manly beard that was shaped to perfection, he was the perfect image of the modern beard male who was the epitome of sexy. 

He wore a set of medium armor that was made of a mixture of leather and steel, with two shortaxes tied to his waist. His current expression was one of utter boredom as he sat on his victim's back, grinding their broken arms with his foot. 

Richard raised his head and gazed at the woman speaking to him, who was a svelte beauty wearing blue mage robes. With her nice short hair and deep blue eyes, she was the type that have men turn around to get a second look when passing them. 

"Uh huh. And what is it I cannot keep doing?" Richard asked in his baritone voice. 

The woman frowned as she gestured to Richard's handiwork. "This! You cannot keep attacking anyone who even slightly gives you a challenging look! You can't even call it a proper fight, you've just been bullying them given your abilities!" 

Richard sniffed arrogantly. "You, Martha, do not understand the way of life." 

Irritated, Martha folded her arms and gazed at Richard angrily. "Oh really? Then please enlighten me, dear Richard, so that I can understand." 

Richard sighed. "It seems my task on this earth is filled with thorns since even those I rate highly in terms of intelligence are still leagues below me…" 

Martha looked like she wanted to fry Richard in a hot wok and pour oil into his eyes, yet the fellow ignored her demeanor. 

"When two eyes meet, battle is inevitable. Fight to the death, the battle begins." Richard spoke slowly. 

Martha paused with shock, feeling that there was something profound in his words that she could not grasp. But this was normal, as she was dealing with Richard Hertz, someone who had become famous in the previous timeline under his IGN; AP_Berzerker! 

He was the legendary player who had coined the line 'I gamed like a gamer, but got gamed by the game'. This line had resonated with the souls of countless gamers, and had even caused Draco to not sleep for 7 days and nights as he had tried to comprehend the deeper meanings of the line. 

In the old timeline, AP_Berzerker had been known under two titles. One that he had earned due to his violent nature of challenging everyone, beating them up, and looking down on their IQ, as the 'King of Assholes'! 

The second title had to do with his ability to release lines that resonated with the Dao of Gaming and what it truly meant to be a gamer, granting the title 'Poetic Gamer'! 

Just now, he had casually uttered what would become one of his classics to his cousin and childhood friend. She was a normie who had started playing Boundless after the First Inter-Player International Competition had ended, so she couldn't grasp the hidden meanings. 

However, hundreds of true gamers would understand this poem, for it perfectly explained why PvP existed and why gamers strove to battle each other and become stronger. 

Martha frowned unhappily. "Look, I'm only taking care of you as a favor to Auntie Hertz. Stop making things difficult for me!" 

Richard sighed as he gazed at the sky. "I remember when you were a little tot, who used to chase after me to carry you everywhere. Now you've grown, yet you've even started bullying me… sigh." 

Martha blushed up to her ears. "Shut up! Don't remember unnecessary things!" 

Richard ignored her once more and looked around, as the player who had been suffering beneath him had finally died and turned into pixels. 

Just as Richard was about to clean his bum and rise up, he was punched squarely in the jaw with such force that he hurtled through a few buildings nearby, causing people to scream with shock. 

Martha's face changed greatly as she screamed. "Richard!" 

She then turned to the one who struck her cousin with an angry look, pointing her staff at him fearlessly. "How dare you! Why did you attack my cousin?!" 

The slightly smoking fist was pulled back, belonging to another dark-skinned man wearing a combination of furs and leather armor, a white bandana wrapped around his head while his left eye was covered with a black eyepatch. 

Beside him with another man in dull gray paladin armor, wielding a silvery tower shield and a deadly-looking bell-shaped hammer. 

Both men ignored Martha after giving her a dark look, then focused on AP_Berzerker who slowly climbed out of the rubble while clutching his chest. Instead of angered or nonplussed, he was grinning widely, even though blood dripped from the side of his lips. 

"Finally a worthy opponent!" AP_Berzerker remarked honestly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Boyd. "Our fight shall be legendary!" 

Boyd sneered. "Bastard, do you know your crime? How dare you kill a new member of Umbra? And in our territory too?" 

Uno folded his arms and shook his head. "You actually have some skill to be able to defeat a true member of Umbra, but to do it in Cario City is foolish. This is our turf, and you never know who might be passing by. Unfortunately for you, this time it happened to be us." 

AP_Berzerker cricked his neck and removed his two shortaxes slowly. "Our eyes met, fate has decreed, two men, two weapons, one of us will bleed." 

Boyd's expression darkened as he removed his two poleaxes and flourished them. "Let's see if you have what it takes to absolve yourself of your crime today." 

There was a spell of silence as the two buff, bronze-skinned men faced off against each other, one handsome and the other a bit gruff. 

"Ha!" AP_Berzerker roared as he threw his two shortaxes forward, the two weapons spinning like boomerangs as they rushed at Boyd from either side. The man himself charged forward with speed that belied his buff body, his arms outstretched like he was about to grapple Boyd. 

Boyd did not even look at the two weapons hurtling towards him as he struck them with each poleaxe, aiming to send them flying. However, he was slightly surprised to see that they landed in the hands of AP_Berzerker who spun in midair, striking against Boyd's own poleaxes with his shortaxes. 

The two men ground against each other, their weapons releasing sparks as they sought to overpower one another. Actually, AP_Berzerker was putting his all into the fight, yet Boyd remained lax and calm. 

This was a man who had just unlocked Tier 2 Control, so his power was not something an untrained person could match. Boyd was not even using Tier 1 BoG to buff his strength, rather relying on his Rank 3 stats alone, but he was shocked to realize that the pressure coming from AP_Berzerker was increasing. 

Soon, it was enough to be loosely on par with him, which then made him solemn. Boyd saw that AP_Berzerker's pale green eyes changed into a golden color as his buff body began to grow slightly hairy. 

Boyd knocked AP_Berzerker back and observed his changes with a dark expression. The fellow manifested two wolf-like claws, some fur on his chest and mane, as well as elongated teeth that looked like they could rip anything apart. 

Seeing this, Boyd and Uno shared a look and sheathed their weapons, which surprised AP_Berzerker. The fellow growled with anger, twirling his shortaxes menacingly. 

"Why have you stopped the fight? Things were about to get fun!" 

Boyd shook his head. "Retard, if you were part of that group, you should have said something. No point in fighting our affiliates." 

AP_Berzerker was stunned by this, but sniffed the air suspiciously as he gazed in one direction with an unhappy face. "I smell a self-centered bastard who hunts alone." 

"And I smell a wet dog who keeps picking fights." Came the calm voice of Tunder Power who walked over with a weird smile. 

"Hmph, Bastard Ilverios, what are you doing here? I thought you like roaming places?" AP_Berzerker asked as he turned back into his human form, switching off his Werewolf gene. 

Ilverios reached AP_Berzerker and thumped him lightly on the back. "Idiot, has your dog-brain already forgotten about it? We cut a deal with that Superior Lord couple and so Supernatural sent out 10,000 of our best talents for them to train using this game." 

AP_Berzerker paused and pondered Tunder's words. Then a light bulb lit up over his head as he smashed a fist into his palm. 

"That's right! I do remember being chosen for something like that, but since you were part, I declined. I thought it would be boring!" 

Tunder's expression darkened, but he was used to this fellow's special way of thinking. "Whatever the case, stop causing a ruckus. I came over when I sensed the activation of a familiar gene, where lo and behold, you were here fighting your own allies." 

AP_Berzerker scratched his head. "Allies? These guys?" 

He pointed to Boyd and Uno who were sizing him up thoughtfully at this while. Tunder nodded with a smile. "That's right. As members of Supernatural, we are part of Umbra in the game. Umbra is the number one player guild ran by the two new Superior Lords in charge of group." 

AP_Berzerker nodded with interest. "That sounds interesting. I only joined this game because Martha kept pestering me about this new virtual reality thing that was all the rage." 

Martha by the side, who was gazing at Tunder with heart-shaped eyes, suddenly snapped out of it. She then rushed over to hold Tunder's hand excitedly. 

"Oh my gosh, you're Ilverios, the number 1 prodigy of the younger generation of Supernatural?!!" 

The old Tunder would have been clumsy in responding to this girl's passion as he liked to keep alone, but hanging out with the dumbasses of Umbra day-to-day had already given him some standard EQ, not to mention he had stood before the world and fought against invincibility. 

"I don't recall receiving such a title, but I'm Ilverios. What's your name?" Tunder replied gently. 

"Wowww… erm, I'm Martha Hertz! M-my friends are all talking about you!" Martha replied bashfully. 

AP_Berzerker pushed Martha away by the face and pointed at Tunder. "Ilverios you bastard, we haven't fought in months. Fight me!" 

Tunder snickered, before shaking his head. "No, you are no longer my match. Not mine, not Boyd's, not Uno's, not after what we've learned." 

AP_Berzerker hesitated, but nodded. "My senses have been tingling ever since I met you three, telling me that there's fatal danger in fighting you. You, Ilverios especially, never gave me this feeling before." 

Boyd, Uno, and Tunder smiled knowingly, but they didn't say anything. Rather, Tunder grabbed AP_Berzerker by the scruff of his neck, which was only possible because Tunder himself was slightly taller. 

"Alright you overgrown mutt, it's time to get you properly acquainted with our new guild." Tunder stated casually as he dragged AP_Berzerker away, the fellow angrily folding his arms while being pulled along. 

Amused by this sight, Boyd and Uno followed behind while Martha hid behind them, wondering if they were going to cook her cousin alive. She also wondered if she could get a free rib. 

....... 

On this exact day, 10 years ago. 

"Hahaha, what a useless runt!" A teenage voice sounded out, mixing with the striking of flesh against flesh as a small form was knocked into a wall, its body rupturing due to the force. 

Currently, they were in a large training area that was built indoors. It was well lit due to the time of day and the circumstances it was meant for, allowing all those within to see what was going on. 

There were youths of all ages working out and honing their skills here, so there were more than enough people to form an audience to the ongoing event. 

Five youths cornered a small boy, their leader a burly teen who had tufts of grayish fur growing out of his cheeks and arms. He grinned widely, showing off his elongated canines as he crouched over the smallish form. 

With a grin, he picked up the boy by his hair and dragged him up, revealing a youthful, buddingly handsome face that was bruised and bloodied at the moment. 

This made the one holding him grin wider as he whispered. "Hey… Runt. What use is looking good when you can't even defend yourself, huh?" 

The 'runt' cracked open an eye and glared at the ones attacking him with defiance. "I… am not… a runt! One day… I will… break your… neck!" 

"Oh?" The fellow was surprised by the defiance, and raised a hand to strike the runt in his clutches severely, causing the fellow's nose to be smashed in. 

Many onlookers grimaced, but they weren't part of the Werewolf clan, so it was not their right to step in. As for those of the Werewolf clan, they simply looked on with schadenfreude. 

They were not usually so cruel to their own, but they despised runts the most, as they brought the strength of the entire pack down. Usually, they were strangled to death at birth, but who knew this fellow's mother would dare to hide him? 

His mother had been severely punished, having her gene crippled, which left her bedridden and unable to support her son. His father had gone missing with his pack after being sent on a special mission a few years ago, so he was the only one of his litter. 

As such, he had no other choice but to pick up odd jobs to support himself and his beloved mother who shielded him from death, but the torture he suffered at the hands of the other youths his age was unbearable. 

The older ones did not bother with him, while the younger ones scurried away. He, the so-called runt, did not mind as long as they didn't get in his way of taking care of his mother. 

Of course, that was what he told himself as he grew up. However, recently, he found that he was becoming more and more violent as well as irritable. The beatings he used to take freely in order to get peace now began to grate on his nerves. 

The term they called him, 'runt', used to make him feel sad and defeated before, but now it filled his heart with grit and his blood with the will to rebel. 

He gritted his teeth, displaying his own elongated canines and manifested brown tufts of fur around his face. He clawed at the older teen holding him, which shocked the fellow, as he never expected the runt to strike back. 

"Arrghh!" He screamed as he clutched his face which had deep claw lines in them, one of his eyes even severely damaged. 

Richard, the so-called runt of his generation, had finally broken free of his own inhibitions. He howled loudly, making the entire room quake as the other Werewolf youths fell back in shock. 

Richard had never felt such power course through his body before. It felt like there had been a dam in his mind and body that held him back, but now, he had forcefully shattered it and revealed his true self. 

While everyone held back in fear, a small form rushed out and held Richard's arm with teary eyes. It was a small girl with gentle blue eyes and messy blue hair. 

"Big Brother Richard… I-I'm scared!" She whimpered, suffering under Richard's blood call. 

Richard was stunned by this and seemed to calm down slightly. He then patted the head of the little one before glaring at everyone in the room darkly. 

They had always been around, watching his suffering without doing anything. As such, he treated them as neither friends nor enemies. In this world, apart from his mother and this little one beside him, he trusted no one else. 

Even his extended family were not to be trusted, as they too had paid a role in scorning him. After all, the fellow who he had just maimed was none other than the number 1 talent of the Werewolf Clan's younger generation, a predicted Alpha and also Martha's older brother, his own cousin. 

Now, he was crying and whimpering as he clutched his ruined face. It would heal in time given their clan's accelerated healing factor, not to mention the various means of their organization, but the pain would always serve as a lesson, both for him and for Richard. 

Richard decided that he had no interest in forming his own pack and being an Alpha. Always relying on others was the path to becoming a true runt in mind and soul. 

No, he would walk the path of the absolute powerhouse! He was a Werewolf that would stand alone on the battlefield, howling out his dominance as he took on all comers no matter their size or strength, and crush them! 

Richard, who had bright blue eyes, signaling him as a Beta Werewolf at best, suddenly manifested green pupils. Unlike the blood-red eyes of the Alphas or the pathetic hazel eyes of the Omegas, this green color hearkened to a type of Werewolf not seen often. 

The Sigma! 

A type of Werewolf that did not have a pack, but was not as weak as an Omega. It could not be controlled like a Beta, and it did not siphon power from its pack to strengthen itself like an Alpha. 

It accumulated power in its own blood and fought alone, growing in power through battle and through constant fights, leaving him at the edge of life and death. 

Among the older generation, they were known to be the strongest werewolves!