After interrogating the last prisoner, Wilder had obtained two locations. Of course, he could have demanded more, but it wasn't necessary, and he didn't want to risk exposure over such a trivial matter.
"Six months left…" Wilder's eyes flickered slightly as he stepped out of the cell into the darkness.
Claire followed respectfully behind him, remaining silent.
"Tell Eigg and the others to prepare. Gather as much information as possible."
"Yes."
The plan was progressing step by step, and Wilder's thoughts began to churn.
Once that day arrived, he would inevitably be drawn into that war. Therefore, his strength couldn't remain stagnant.
He needed, at the very least, a way to avoid danger.
"First-sama!"
"First-sama!"
As he walked toward the elevator, the jailers saluted Wilder, standing tall and looking straight ahead.
He nodded silently, his imposing figure gradually receding from the jailers' sight. Only when he had completely disappeared did they relax, exchanging weary glances.
"Buzz…" The elevator hummed, paused, and then the doors slid open.
Wilder stepped out. Level 6. This wasn't his first time here. As the gathering place for the most heinous criminals in all of Impel Down, Level 6 was known as the Infinite Hell!
The prisoners confined within were truly vicious, desperate criminals, whose crimes were deemed too terrible for the world to know. Each one was a terrifying existence capable of destroying an entire nation.
Despite this, Wilder remained unfazed. Heinousness was one thing; letting it affect him was another. Wilder's heart had never held anything belonging to others.
"Tap-tap-tap…" His footsteps echoed as he ventured deeper into the darkness. Eyes opened in the cells on either side, filled with bloodlust, excitement, killing intent, and rage, all focused on Wilder.
They came in all shapes and sizes, but one thing was common to them all: they were unforgivable criminals.
Wilder remained expressionless, his steps steady and rhythmic. He appeared indifferent to the gazes, even… dismissive.
"Grr… Little bug, come here and let me kill you! Gahahaha!"
Suddenly, a manic, bloodthirsty voice erupted from a large cell on the right.
"Pew!" Without a word, Wilder, still walking, raised a finely crafted pistol and fired toward the source of the sound, his eyes never once glancing in that direction.
"Grr… It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! Damn it! You little bug!" Inside the dark cell, a massive figure clutched his forehead, rolling on the ground.
"Pew-pew-pew-pew…!" Wilder continued walking, his gun hand gradually swinging back as he repeatedly pulled the trigger.
"Aaaah! You bastard! It hurts! It hurts!"
"Nyehehehe… It's not like you'll die, right?"
From a distance, Wilder's low laughter drifted back.
"Blood! So much blood! Aaaah! I'm dying! I'm dying! Ah! So much blood! I'm… I'm…" The screams grew weaker… weaker…
"Just kidding! Gahahaha!" The weak voice suddenly boomed like a bell!
The corridor fell silent for a moment. The massive figure in the cell, which had sprung up and grabbed the bars, remained frozen for a moment, then… scratched his head.
"Huh…!? He's gone?"
"Grr… How boring…"
...…
Wilder naturally wouldn't waste too much time on such a creature. It was merely a chance to let loose. Once he'd had his fun, it was time to focus.
"Nyehehehe… So, are you willing to consider it?"
At the very end of the level, Wilder sat cross-legged in the corridor, facing a cell, his low laughter mingling with the gaze of the eyes behind the bars.
"First, is it? You certainly know how to seize an opportunity… Now, get out of my sight."
"So that's a no, then?" Wilder stood up, thrusting his gun through the bars, pressing it against the man's forehead. His eyes were as calm as still water. "Shiryu of the Rain."
"Hah… Do you think you can?" The man in the cell finally raised his head, revealing a broad mouth and sharp, cruel, triangular eyes. Shiryu of the Rain sneered at Wilder, showing no concern for the gun pressed against his forehead.
"Nyehehehe… This is troublesome." Wilder chuckled, withdrawing the gun. "In that case, goodbye, Shiryu of the Rain."
"Pew!"
"Ugh… You…" Shiryu raised his head, his face darkening as he watched Wilder retract the gun.
Smoke curled from the barrel. Clearly, retracting the gun wasn't a sign of surrender.
Clutching the wound that had blossomed on his shoulder, Shiryu stared at Wilder's retreating back, his mouth twisting slightly as he fell into thought.
Wilder's purpose in coming was simple: to invite Shiryu to become his subordinate. Of course, this was a non-essential matter. Wilder knew the chances of him agreeing were practically zero. So… if it didn't work out, he might as well avenge the injury to his hands from that day. At the very least, he'd collect some interest. Otherwise, it would be much harder to do so later.
After returning from Level 6, Wilder didn't go back to his office. Instead, he headed to Level 5.
"Whoosh!" He casually tossed his shirt to the ground, revealing his bare torso, which was now smeared with animal blood. Wilder sat cross-legged on the ice and snow, closing his eyes, entering a state of quiet contemplation, feeling, and… waiting.
The sensation he'd been experiencing had grown increasingly strong over the past six months. Wilder knew this was an innate ability stemming from his powerful spiritual talent.
"Or rather… something that sets me apart from most people."
As early as three years ago, Wilder had begun to suspect something. In the past six months, that suspicion had solidified into certainty. Now, the feeling was becoming increasingly distinct. Wilder knew it was time to focus and complete this task.
Besides, further physical training would be of little use at this point. Only real combat could push him further. Therefore, the remaining six months were perfect for cultivating that.
...
The cold wind howled…
Claire diligently delivered Wilder's prized red wine every day, taking the empty bottle back and refilling it the next time.
Around him, the corpses of military wolves lay scattered. The bloodstains on Wilder's body had long since dried and cracked, carried away by the frigid wind.
Each day, he drew in wolves with blood, cooked their meat over a fire, drank wine, and warmed himself against the snow. Other than that, he maintained a meditative posture, allowing the icy snow and blades of wind to lash against his body.
Soon… a month passed.
In the midst of the ice and snow, Wilder opened his eyes. "Now, to improve my mastery."
A month. He'd finally managed to solidify that feeling, transforming it into something tangible. A new power had awakened within his body, known as…
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