The Rise Of A Porter

Back in the swamps,

A company of 200 armoured soldiers was investigating the site where Arnold had fought with an overwhelming amount of lizardmen and defeated them all. Aside from the 200 soldiers, there were researchers and forensic experts who were trying to unravel the cause of the destruction of such a scale.

"You nerds. Have you found anything?" One of the armoured soldiers kicked a researcher in the butt.

The man was known as Matthew Zilong. Officially he was an S+ ranked swordsman as well as the right-hand man of Devon Troy. He was also the man Devon trusted the most aside from Alex.

It goes without saying, he too had been subjected to weird experimentation from Devon Troy and it was thanks to those experiments his strength had far surpassed the 'rankings' that his former nation had imposed on him.

Yes, he was a successful product of the mutation process. The same mutation process which the White Family had been desperately trying to replicate to increase their strength. But that wasn't all. He was an inhuman as well, much like Bad-Breath but unlike him, Matthew's physique remained the same and only his internal structure changed. His organs weren't the same anymore, and his abilities and skills were more explosive. So much so, that he could easily take on over 300 lizardmen on his own, with only his sword and nothing else, not even an armour.

"Y-Yes, sir!" The researcher immediately jumped back to his feet and faced Matthew, "It is clear that this is work of a fire Elementalist-"

Matthew grabbed the researcher's hazmat suit and lifted him off the ground, bringing his face closer to him.

"You don't say, Einstein!" Matthew let out an exaggerated gasp, "I swear I thought it was a water user! You dumbfckinga*s! If you can only state the obvious facts which are clear to even a blind man, then I think you're more useful to us in death rather than being alive!"

"N-No! I-I can figure it all out!" The man panicked and struggled to free himself from Matthew's anaconda-like grip.

"You had 2 hours. Two fcking hours to do that and you pathetic excuse of a man couldn't do sh*t. Yet you say you can figure it out?" Matthew asked, not letting him down, "You know what will happen to you next, don't you?"

"F-Forgive m-me sir! I'll do anything you want!" The researcher started screaming and crying endlessly for he knew what was going to happen to him, "I HAVE A WIFE AND CHILDREN TO TAKE CARE OF!!!"

Matthew took pleasure in seeing others panicking. He loved it when people begged in front of him to forgive them. He loved the feeling he got when they grovel at his feet, but more than that, he loved to hear their screams when they were eaten alive by his mutated pet werewolves who always followed him no matter where he went.

After thinking about it for a while, he realised he hadn't treated his pets with their favourite food, human flesh, in a long time and since he was feeling bored today, he decided to have some fun while he was at it. He also thought the other researchers could use some motivation with their work so why the hell not?

"You know, you don't need to worry about them anymore." Matthew let out a sly smile which no one could see since his face was hidden behind the visor of his armour but the wicked smile was there, "I'll take care of your wife and my docile pets could play with your young children. Sounds like a plan, don't you think?"

"Leave them alone! You... YOU SICK FCK!!!"

Panicked beyond reasoning, the researcher dropped his equipment box, quickly pulled out a 9 mm Baretta pistol from his back pocket and emptied the entire magazine, point-blank at Matthew's face. He soon realised how big of a mistake he just made. Other researchers were dumbstruck with what they were seeing.

"Oye, oye, oye. I thought we were talking like two civil people here. Why did you have to pull a stunt like that?"

The researcher shot 21 bullets at point-blank range, but there wasn't a single scratch on the visor of his helmet.

All of the two hundred soldiers simultaneously started laughing. It wasn't a normal laugh either. They were laughing and smiling like madmen. The gravity of the situation finally dawned upon the researcher. He had just signed on his death certificate by himself. There was no way he could make it alive now... not anymore.

The gun slipped from his loosened grip. The researcher could already feel his soul leaving his body. He wasn't dead yet, but it was only a matter of time before he died.

'I'm sorry Maria... Nick... Michelle...' He thought about his family for the last time.

"Did he pissed in his pants?" One of the soldiers laughed.

"Nah, I bet 3 beast crystals. He shat his pants." Another one chimed in.

"Even better. I bet 5 crystals, he shat first and then pissed his a*s clean. Hahaha!"

The jokes kept popping up, the researchers, however, stayed silent and carried on with their work.

This scene was way too common for them. On every field mission, they went to along with Matthew and his handpicked squad of maniacs just like him, it was common for the low classed researchers to die under 'mysterious circumstances'. Everyone was well aware of what these 'circumstances' were but no one gave a crap about them anyways.

Almost all of these researchers were either hostage or were on America's wanted list so there was nowhere for them to run either. All of these low levelled researchers were the former, this no one gave a flying fck about them. The researchers who were on the wanted list however weren't expendable and hence lived a luxurious life even in the swamps.

Matthew let out a heavy sigh before continuing, "Looks like I'll have to teach you a lesson."

He then threw the researcher in front of him and whistled. It was a signal to let his pets know, the lunch was ready. Within a fraction of a second, three gigantic werewolves came running out of nowhere and started eating the man alive. The bloodcurdling screams of the researcher were enough to drive anyone insane but there wasn't a sane person, to begin with.

"You should rather hand your kin over to us if you're so desperate to get rid of them, Demon." A voice resembling the crackling sound of thunder asked Matthew.

At this moment everyone, even the soldiers who had been laughing a second ago, shut their mouths and backed off. It was better for them to shut their mouths if they wanted to live.

"I see you're here, Grock." Matthew turned around to face the being that had just appeared there, "The leader sends his sympathies for the loss of the soldiers of your proud species."

"Tell your leader, I don't need nor do I want his sympathies," The black, seven-foot-tall, muscular and well-armoured lizardman replied, "But what I do want is to know who did this to my soldiers."

"Relax, Grock. My men are currently working on finding who the bastard was. You'll get to know about him before sunset." Matthew approached the black lizardman, "And if my men are not able to do so, well... in that case, consider all of these researchers to be a compensation for not delivering our promise."

"Very well then." Grock turned around to face his personal security force of over 500 red lizardmen, "I'll be waiting to hear from you."

"Sure, big guy," Matthew mumbled as the lizardman disappeared into the swamps.

"Boss, don't you think that guy is a bit too much?" One of the soldiers asked once he was sure that the lizardmen were gone.

"That might be the case, but we both need each other for survival." Matthew mumbled, "After all, his army is our first line of defence. As long as we keep scratching his back, he'll protect ours."