The darkness within the Re-Estize Kingdom runs deep.

Unlike the Baharuth Empire, where the underworld was crushed under nationwide suppression following the Bloody Emperor's rise… unlike the Theocracy, where, under the banner of faith, the criminal underworld doesn't even dare take root… unlike the Holy Kingdom or the Dragon Kingdom, too occupied with Beastman invasions to allow organized crime to flourish… the relatively stable Re-Estize Kingdom, with its aristocracy and feudal system riddled with openings for exploitation, proved fertile ground for the underworld to thrive.

Among these criminal powers was a coalition born from the worship of the Four Great Elements. Instead of revering the deities of water, fire, wind, and earth equally, they paid homage to a lesser god—a subordinate of the Earth God, the God of Theft—said to have eight fingers.

The Eight Fingers.

A name synonymous with the most powerful syndicate alliance lurking in the shadows of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Originally, they were eight separate groups specializing in slavery, assassination, smuggling, theft, narcotics, enforcement, finance, and gambling. Recognizing their mutual need, they banded together, further refining their specialties into eight distinct divisions.

Though each division operated independently, together they wielded influence far beyond that of a single organization—their reach extending across the entire kingdom.

The measure of their might could be seen in how deeply their influence penetrated.

The royal family, the Six Great Nobles, provincial lords—none were untouched by their grasp.

While most of their crimes took place in the shadows, they occasionally defied the law openly. Yet those tasked with enforcing the law often turned a blind eye… or even took part, sharing in the spoils.

It was a state of affairs where national authority itself was being toyed with by a mere criminal syndicate. A handful of patriots seethed at the corruption, but the Eight Fingers were so vast, so powerful, that none dared act against them.

Since their formation, none had ever breached their fortress of power. If even the kingdom's rulers could be made pawns, who would dare challenge them?

Their military strength was equally formidable. While each division maintained its own security forces, the Enforcement Division stood apart, housing warriors of extraordinary caliber.

The six enforcers of this division, collectively known as the Six Arms, were each said to rival Adamantite-class adventurers.

If the kingdom's most powerful champion in the public eye was Warrior Captain Gazef Stronoff, then in the underworld, that title belonged to "Ogre" Zero, leader of the Six Arms.

With such figures in place, the Eight Fingers' dominance never waned. In influence, in power, and in sheer force, they were more than enough to poison the kingdom from within—and perhaps, one day, claim it entirely.

...

"Do I really have to drag myself all the way to this filthy hole in person, huh?"

The Eight Fingers executives gathered in silence, heads bowed.

They varied in size and gender, but all shared the same pale, ashen faces. Cold sweat streamed down their skin; one's face was half-blackened by a massive bruise.

"Ogre" Zero—the man responsible for the Eight Fingers' martial strength, a battle maniac whose might was said to rival, or perhaps even surpass, Gazef Stronoff himself—stood before them.

Yet the rest of the Six Arms, his pride, were absent, resting… or more accurately, confined for their failure to hold the line.

They say that no matter how strong one is, no individual can withstand the violence of overwhelming numbers.

They say that no matter how skilled, anyone who recklessly storms an enemy's stronghold will eventually exhaust themselves and fall.

They say that even a hero has limits to what they can accomplish alone.

But such words mean nothing to Monkyspanner El Dragondream, head of a great family, hailed as one of the strongest beings in the world—one who had surpassed the realm of heroes.

"A legendary man, huh? Well then, I'll shatter that legend right here and now! I, Ze—Gghk!"

Before Zero could even finish, before the Six Arms could so much as move, Monkyspanner closed the distance with impossible speed for his massive frame, seizing Zero by the throat.

Then, with his other hand, he began slapping him.

Each sharp crack of flesh against flesh silenced Zero's curses, replacing them with gasps, whimpers, and sobs. Even holding back, the gap between them was like that between a human and a demon.

"One slap… two… three… I won't stop until you've lost the will to fight."

"Bast—Ghah! What the—Urgh! Aagh! Gk! Hrk! Pffh! Pffhb! Pffhah! Nngh—Gahhk!"

The first slap split his skin, the second knocked teeth from his mouth, the third left his flesh hanging in strips.

Dozens more followed. By the end, Zero's already brutal, tattooed face had been transformed into something so grotesque it could inspire terror and disgust at a glance—no longer the visage of a man, but a creature born of nightmares.

The other members of the Six Arms, who had been watching in stunned silence, began to shift as if to attack.

But the moment they saw Monkyspanner calmly using Zero's battered body as a shield against incoming blades, they froze.

Contract or not, even unintentionally killing their own leader was out of the question.

The only one who made a move was the Undead King, Davernoch, who started to weave some spell in pride—only to stop immediately.

"Listen, skull-face. The only reason I'm letting you keep existing is because I promised I wouldn't kill you. That's the only reason a walking corpse like you is still standing. But if you so much as touch me, I'll gladly spend a second to smash you into dust."

Even though his body was already dead, Davernoch swore he felt goosebumps crawl over him.

The other four, feeling the killing intent radiating through the room, collapsed into their seats as well.

They were strong in their own right, but the man before them was on an entirely different level.

This is the legend… the one man still standing in the realm of legends today… the strongest in the world—Monkyspanner El Dragondream!

Zero trembled.

This was a strength he could never have imagined—strength that treated him like a mere child.

Even after using potions and holy magic to heal, the wounds on his face had not fully closed. That was how utterly brutal the blows had been.

And yet, despite relentlessly attacking a vital area like the head, Monkyspanner had struck in a way that left no permanent damage if treated in time. It wasn't unrestrained savagery—it was savagery laced with mercy.

The moment he realized this, Zero abandoned all thought of resisting. He had paid dearly for daring to reach into the realm of legends. What remained was only endless fear, awe, and the dread of a height no ordinary human could ever touch.

...

"Wh–what exactly do you mean…?"

The chairman, voice shaking, finally forced himself to speak through the crushing pressure in the air.

The Enforcement Division, their greatest shield, had been utterly useless against this man. When they first heard that the head of Dragon's Dream had stormed in alone, they thought they could use the home ground advantage to trap him—perhaps even claim his fame for themselves.

But legend was legend.

Instead, Zero had been beaten to a pulp. Upon hearing the news, the chairman hastily summoned the remaining executives.

Some had no intention of coming—until Monkyspanner's warning reached them:

"If you don't show up, I'll come fetch you myself. I can't guarantee you'll be in one piece when I do."

They knew running was pointless. Dragon's Dream wasn't just the strongest elite force in the world—they had an intelligence network that spanned the globe.

And the attack had come without warning, leaving them no time to prepare an escape. If Zero, of all people, had been reduced to that pitiful state, what chance did they have?

So all eight executives had gathered here. Yet, aside from the chairman, none dared speak—only watching Monkyspanner warily.

If he were merely a strong man, they might try to recruit him.

But this man surpassed them in every conceivable measure—wealth, influence, status, strength, information, manpower, reputation… everything they could offer, his great house already possessed in abundance.

Which meant they had no value to him. Speak carelessly, and they might be killed on the spot. Still, their curiosity gnawed at them.

...

"So… you're wondering why I came here, aren't you?"

"Y–yes. For the head of a great house to come to a place like this…"

"If you knew, you should've dragged your sorry heads out here immediately. You think I've got time to play along with your filthy games?"

"But if you show up without notice, it puts us in a difficult—"

CRACK!

A single tap of Monkyspanner's finger split the great round table that seated all eight of them.

Long cracks spread across its surface, threatening to shatter it completely—yet somehow, it held together by a thread.

"Let's skip the pleasantries and keep this simple."

It was blatant intimidation, but no one dared object. Their enforcers had already submitted. If Monkyspanner chose to unleash his strength now, not one of them could stop him.

No one had died yet, somehow—but considering the state of those who had been struck, death might have been a mercy.

"You've been making too much noise."

He tapped the cracked table rhythmically as his sharp gaze swept over each of the Eight Fingers' division heads.

"I'll be frank. I don't care if you're running slave trades, kidnappings, human trafficking, drugs, robberies, murders, or whatever else. Crushing scum like you is pointless—it just makes room for more to grow back like poisonous weeds.

"But you should've kept your business quiet enough that it never reached my ears."

"...."

The executives swallowed their rage.

Who had dared to let word of their activities reach the ears of the great head of Dragon's Dream?

This was a man one couldn't even meet through ordinary means.

Even a king or one of the Six Great Nobles couldn't simply request an audience with him.

And yet, someone had fed such information to him directly.

That person would have to be dealt with—no matter what.

...

"Th–then… what will become of us?"

"You will die."

"Don't give me that look. I'm not going to kill you.

If I had come here with the intent to, that bald tattooed fool would already be dead."

At once, the defiant gleam in their eyes—ready to burn their last spark of life in a desperate bid—flickered out.

He was making jokes in a situation like this…

They wanted nothing more than to kill him on the spot, but no one present was foolish enough to throw away their life.

...

Monkyspanner leaned lazily back into his chair.

"Well, as I said, I don't care what you lot do. But the reason I came here in person is because your noise reached my ears. So all you need to do is stop making such a racket."

By nature, he was on the kinder side—but that didn't mean he spared those who deserved death.

The only reasons he hadn't killed them now were that damned princess's request and his own distaste for dirtying his hands.

He would be returning to Shinshi soon—why stain himself with the blood of the filth outside?

...

"So… are you saying you'll leave us be?"

"Mm? Of course not. I know well enough how filthy your operations are—so clean them up."

"'Clean them up'…?"

The Eight Fingers had been founded as a criminal syndicate from the start.

By the standards of the law, 'cleaning up' meant shutting down entirely.

Still, if that was the price for their lives, they'd accept it.

...

"I'm not telling you to quit—just… keep it quiet enough that it never reaches me. Understood?"

"And… how exactly quiet is 'quiet enough'…?"

"Shh."

"C–Coco Doll, you…"

It was the head of the slave trade, Coco Doll, speaking.

Perhaps emboldened by the knowledge that Monkyspanner wouldn't kill them, he had asked the question outright.

The other executives shot him sharp looks.

Coco Doll flinched and shut his mouth, but what was spoken couldn't be taken back.

"That's for you to figure out. You want me to hold your hand and spell it out for you? How about I just flip this whole place upside down instead?"

"N–no, sir! That was his own foolishness speaking—none of us would ever dare trouble you!"

"That's right! This is all his fault!"

"You… you bastards!"

Coco Doll's eyes bulged as his so-called partners threw him under the carriage without a shred of hesitation.

Monkyspanner, however, didn't even spare him a glance.

"Then we're clear. Keep your mouths shut and run your dirt quietly enough to live in peace. Got it?"

"Y–yes!"

"And if you ever make me come here again, from that day on—"

Crack.

Monkyspanner clenched his fist, the sound of muscle and bone compressing filling the room, and then swung it sideways.

KR-R-RRRAASH!

The stone wall crumbled into powder.

The steel frame within twisted and snapped.

Where his fist struck, a perfect one-meter circle punched clean through to the other side.

And it didn't stop there.

The impact ripped through three more rooms before vanishing.

No magic. No martial aura.

Just pure strength and technique.

Zero swallowed hard.

That was a level of mastery and raw might he could never touch—not even with a lifetime of training.

Even those ignorant of martial arts understood instantly: this was absurd power on display.

A true legend.

A warrior who had reached the realm of modern myth.

A fragment of that strength was before their very eyes, and none could even speak.

The thought burned into all their minds:

Attack him and you die. Touch him and you die.

Never—ever—give him reason to return.

"…That's all. Understood?"

Monkyspanner brushed his hands off as he spoke.

Not a single executive—including the chairman—could bring themselves to answer aloud.

Instead, they all lowered their heads in silent submission.

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[ Guys, if you're wondering when the MC will wake up, it'll be soon—once the High Priest and Ainz's guardian interact a bit more. ]

If you want to read 10 advance chapters ahead.

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