At the entrance to the top floor of the command tower—the alloy door that had been kicked flying by the Slayer—came the sound of dense, heart-palpitating footsteps.

  The Slayer stood with his back to the entrance, facing the Thousand-Eyed Tyrant suspended in the center of the hall. The chainsaw in his hand still roared in a low tone, but his feet did not advance another inch.

  Because his rear was blocked.

  Hundreds, thousands of Spirit slaves surged in frantically through the narrow doorway like commuters squeezing onto a subway during rush hour.

  There was no expression on their pale faces, only endless killing intent in their purple pupils. In their hands were not flowers, but high-frequency vibrating mining picks, charging laser cutters, and even bloody demon bone spurs freshly torn from corpses.

  "Kill him... for the Master..."

  Uniform low growls converged into a wave of sound, echoing in the enclosed hall.

  The Slayer didn't look back.

  His hand holding the chainsaw didn't even tremble.

  But he didn't continue his attack either.

  A look of triumph appeared in the thousands of eyes of the Thousand-Eyed Tyrant. Although it couldn't control the Slayer, it understood the weakness of this kind of "Hero" too well.

  It controlled the frailest, seemingly underage Spirit girl to rush to the front. The girl held a screwdriver thinner than her arm, screaming as she threw herself at the Slayer's back.

  *Ding!*

  The screwdriver stabbed the backplate of the Praetor Suit, not even leaving a white mark.

  The Slayer still didn't move.

  Immediately after, the second, the third, the hundredth...

  Countless Spirits pounced. They were like a swarm of crazy ants trying to drown this green elephant with numbers. They climbed onto the Slayer's shoulders, bit his helmet with their teeth, hit his knee pads with pickaxes, and even tried to dig into the armor's gaps with their hands.

  The Slayer stood like a statue, allowing this swarm of "ants" to bite him.

  He didn't activate the reflective armor.

  He didn't activate the shoulder cannon.

  He even forcibly retracted the baleful aura that usually deterred those who approached.

  Because he knew that if he even slightly shook his shoulder, this group of Spirits, fragile as porcelain dolls, would instantly shatter into a pile of meat.

  ...

  Netherworld, Control Center.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Singularity watched the green dot on the screen being covered by layers of Spirits, almost disappearing from view, veins popping on his forehead.

  "This is... the 'Final Protocol'."

  Singularity's fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to analyze the signal source controlling the Spirits. The data displayed on the screen made him despair.

  "This Thousand-Eyed Tyrant isn't some ordinary Psychic Mage. It is a living 'Super Control Terminal' based on a biological neural network!"

  Singularity pulled up the complex control network model on the hologram.

  "It didn't use low-level 'hypnosis' or 'suggestion'. It directly took over the brainstem nerve centers of these Spirits!"

  "It's like... it turned these Spirits into its peripherals. Every Spirit's brain has become a 'bot' node for it. It can not only control their actions but even share their pain!"

  Singularity pointed to the strings of red warning codes on the screen:

  [Link Status: Absolute Obedience.]

  [Pain Feedback: Bi-directional.]

  "The most disgusting part is this 'Pain Synchronization'!" Singularity gritted his teeth. "If the Slayer kills one of the Spirits now, the pain of that Spirit's death will be instantly transmitted back to the Tyrant, but the Tyrant won't be hurt. Instead, it will use this pain signal to stimulate the other Spirits, making them even more berserk!"

  "This is simply a vicious cycle! The more you kill, the crazier the rest become!"

  On the screen, the Slayer finally moved.

  He didn't fight back.

  He was... Dodging.

  The Slayer suddenly activated his thrusters, his body like a slippery loach, drilling out of the pile of people.

  But as soon as he landed, he was surrounded by another wave of Spirits.

  He dodged left, evaded right.

  A tactical roll to avoid a pickaxe.

  A sidestep to let a laser knife pass.

  He maneuvered frantically in the crowd, moving as fast as a green lightning bolt.

  But all his movements were for the purpose of "Not touching anyone."

  The chainsaw that had been roaring for blood was now held high above his head, for fear that the teeth would graze the scalp of some reckless fool.

  The powerful shotgun had long since been stowed into his dimensional pocket.

  The Slayer was like playing a hell-difficulty game of "Dodgeball."

  And the rule was: The ball (Spirits) can hit you, but you cannot touch the ball.

  Watching the man who always rampaged through the battlefield and never knew the word retreat, now dodging everywhere like a helpless parent besieged by brats, Singularity felt a deep sense of frustration.

  "This is too stifling! This is more stifling than fighting the Blood Sea Ancestor!"

  "This isn't fighting a war! This is getting scammed!"

  The Thousand-Eyed Tyrant floated in mid-air, emitting a piercing laugh. Watching the figure dodging wretchedly, half the fear in its heart finally dissipated.

  "Run... Hide... Let's see how long you can hide!"

  Its thousands of eyes flashed simultaneously, directing the Spirits to form an even tighter encirclement.

  The Slayer was forced into a corner.

  In front were hundreds of Spirits holding weapons.

  Behind was a hard Demon Steel wall.

  No retreat.

  The Slayer's chest heaved violently. That was the manifestation of anger accumulating to the limit.

  His fists clenched, relaxed, then clenched again.

  He looked at the empty eyes of those Spirits, at the flashing control runes on their necks.

  He wanted to kill.

  But he couldn't.

  This contradiction made the fire of rage burn frantically inside him, yet find no outlet for release.

  In the Netherworld Control Center, Singularity watched the Slayer's vital signs monitor; the value representing "Psychological Stress" was skyrocketing.

  "No... if this goes on, even if the Slayer isn't hacked to death, he'll explode from his own anger."

  Singularity took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly becoming incredibly sharp.

  He pushed away the console in front of him and pulled out the red USB drive engraved with [Heavenly Dao Backdoor] that never left his person.

  "Since it's a cyber offensive and defensive war, don't blame me for turning on map hacks."

  "You like playing mind control, don't you? You like building psychic networks, don't you?"

  "Then I'll show you what a... 'DDoS Attack' (Distributed Denial of Service) is!"

  Singularity jammed the USB drive into the main server interface.

  "Next Chapter: Singularity's Electronic Warfare. Since we can't fight back physically, let's unplug this old bastard's internet cable from the spiritual level!"