Yet in a team like this—one assembled for hunting Soul Beasts—he could only serve as a logistics and support role. Sometimes he was even treated as expendable.
The Soul Masters who joined these hunting squads not only possessed ample real combat experience, but what was truly terrifying was their cold, ruthless nature. Only those driven entirely by profit would take part in such a team. When life and death hung in the balance, not a single person would lift a finger for a comrade—protecting yourself was all that mattered. A Food-Type Soul Master like Oscar, completely lacking any offensive capability, had survived in this kind of environment for five years. That alone was nothing short of a miracle. It was partly thanks to his extraordinarily useful Martial Soul, and partly because of his own sharp intelligence.
It was precisely because he lived under such crushing pressure—constantly reminded of it every waking moment—that Oscar had managed to break through again within a mere five years, reaching the sixtieth level. The difficulty of reaching level sixty for him far exceeded that of an ordinary Soul Master. And he was only twenty-two years old this year. He was unquestionably a genius among geniuses. Of course, within this team, only the Soul Saint beside him knew his true age.
For a full hour, in this world of ice and snow, Oscar's body poured sweat like rain until his winter clothes were completely soaked through. And yet, not a single sound escaped his lips. In terms of sheer force of will, he would not have fallen short even when compared to Tang San.
Finally, all the frigid currents within his body merged into one, transforming into a faint ring of fluctuating energy that dissolved entirely into his being. Oscar, who had been sitting with his back to most of the others, slowly opened his eyes.
At the same moment his eyes opened, the Soul Saint before him—drawn by the shift in aura—naturally opened his own eyes as well. Just as he was about to speak and ask, he caught Oscar's eyes darting meaningfully.
The two had been working together for quite some time now. The Soul Saint immediately understood something was afoot. He said nothing, instead returning a questioning gaze.
Oscar looked at him, then at the completely stiffened Soul Beast before them, letting his gaze linger on the creature's head.
The Soul Saint's pupils contracted sharply. He understood perfectly what Oscar's look meant under these circumstances. His entire body gradually tensed, and his gaze turned increasingly razor-sharp. He knew that the moment this thing appeared, the team before them would lose all meaning. Even those two subordinates who seemed most loyal, standing closest by, would never let something like this go unchallenged.
And as the strongest member of the team, he would undoubtedly become the first target once a Soul Bone was discovered—attacked by everyone at once.
Oscar's gaze fell upon the Soul Saint once more. This time, the light in his eyes had changed—into something fiercely cold, a piercing chill emanating from the depths of his stare.
The Soul Saint instantly grasped his meaning. In this entire team, only the two of them could truly trust each other. There was no time to deliberate. He could only give Oscar a slight nod.
Oscar let out a long breath and slowly stretched his arms, rising to his feet. His Martial Soul activated—two yellow, two purple, two black, six Soul Rings appearing simultaneously around his body. Each additional Soul Ring represented a qualitative leap, and his entire demeanor had quietly undergone a transformation.
"Congratulations, congratulations!" The members of the hunting squad immediately turned their attention to Oscar.
Oscar turned around with a warm smile. "This is all thanks to everyone. I'm grateful for your support. Besides, the Soul Skill I've just gained will benefit all of us in the future. Would you like to see it?"
For a Soul Master, displaying one's Soul Skills to others was an act of trust. Oscar's gesture undoubtedly pleased the Soul Masters present. Of course, his offer also successfully captured their attention. There was no rush to carve up the Soul Beast's corpse.
Oscar chuckled. "My sixth Soul Skill is a bit unusual—I can't use it with my own power alone. I'll need someone's help. Brother Haute, if you would." His last sentence was directed at the Soul Saint. As he spoke, he fished a foot-long black box from inside his coat, his fingers working quickly over its surface, producing a series of mechanical clicking sounds. Before this, only Haute, who stood at his side, had ever seen him use it.
Haute asked, "How do you need me to help?"
Oscar replied, "I need a drop of your blood." His choice to ask Haute for assistance appeared entirely natural to the others and aroused no suspicion.
Haute furrowed his brow slightly, but still raised his right hand in front of Oscar. With a quick flick of his thumbnail against his forefinger, he drew a shallow cut, and a single drop of blood rolled free.
"I've got a Mirror Sausage!" The soul incantation was as absurd as ever.
Oscar moved swiftly. His sixth Soul Ring flared brilliantly, and a ring of black light surged from his palm, instantly engulfing the drop of blood. Immediately after, a powerful wave of Soul Power erupted from his palm, while the sixth Soul Ring rhythmically expanded and contracted in an endless cycle.