Chapter 151: Uninvited Guest

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NBA: One-Punch Monster

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Hollywood: Actor with equipment

American Football New King

Naruto : Chimera Ninja!

American Horror: Grind Edition

Hunter x Hunter: Kurta Survivor with Sharingan

Hotel room.

After hot showers and fresh clothes, the group had finally shaken off the raw terror of nearly dying.

They sat around the room, watching Soren casually eating a strawberry sundae like nothing had happened. It still felt unreal.

Was this another one of the clown's tricks? Some new way to mess with them?

"Mr. Soren."

Bill stood up as their representative and offered a bank card with both hands.

"This is two million dollars we scraped together. The PIN's written on the back."

He met Soren's eyes, voice sincere. "We know this doesn't even come close to what you're worth."

"But it's everything we can give right now."

Soren nodded and took the card.

"You're welcome. I took the job. I finish the job."

He remembered Bill was a bestselling horror novelist.

The man who had just confessed to Beverly—Ben—was a successful architect.

The two million had probably come mostly from those two.

The rest of the group could barely keep themselves and their families afloat. Some of them were probably still paying off college loans.

Soren was used to clients who casually threw around millions or tens of millions—people like Alex, heir to a century-old fortune, or Angela, a cop with a house and a steady paycheck, or even Ingrid, the bored rich woman who spent money like it was nothing.

For most ordinary people in this country, student loans, taxes, and crushing medical bills were the real soundtrack of life.

"You can leave town without worrying about the clown anymore," Soren said, waving them off.

Bill and the others thanked him again and again before finally heading out.

Once the room was quiet, Soren turned his attention to the system notifications waiting in his mind.

[Legitimate income detected: $2,000,000]

[Side Quest: Debt-Ridden Sparda — Progress updated.]

[Current progress: $24,500,000 / $100,000,000]

He watched the bar tick forward and nodded in satisfaction. Still a long way to go, but steady progress was progress.

Next came the reward for the side quest he had coaxed out of Bill and the others.

[Side Quest: The Nightmare of Derry]

[————]

[Completed. Points awarded: 5,000]

[Current total points: 13,500]

[Current Demon Bloodline Awakening: 26%]

Five thousand points.

About the same as what he had earned for killing that yellow-robed demon back in the nightmare town.

But compared to that fight, taking down Pennywise had been noticeably easier.

What mildly disappointed him was that the system had only given points this time. No extra bloodline awakening.

The one percent increase had come naturally from the battle itself.

Still, that feeling of growing stronger mid-fight was addictive.

And during the fight with the clown, he had finally stopped standing around like a training dummy, locking into a fixed stance just to charge his techniques.

Ever since Vergil had beaten the hell out of him in Hell, Soren had been rethinking how he used his skills.

In his memory, Vergil never had any charging lag in a real fight.

Every technique came out smooth and instinctive, no matter what he was doing.

Only now did Soren understand why.

He had been thinking too narrowly.

There was no need to plant his feet in a perfect iaijutsu stance and pour power into the blade like he was charging a special move in a video game.

He could feed demonic power into the scabbard while moving, while dodging, while fighting. The scabbard itself could handle the charging process.

Maybe that was the real reason Yamato's techniques required a scabbard in the first place.

The scabbard wasn't just for nurturing the blade. It was the perfect medium for moving and charging power without telegraphing it.

Because standing still and obviously powering up a big attack? Anyone with half a brain would either run or interrupt you.

Soren summoned the Shura Blade from his system space and laid it across his knees.

He ran his fingers along the blade, watching the light slide across the edge.

It still looked razor-sharp.

But he could feel tiny internal fractures from when he had used [Overdrive Armament] earlier.

That was the unavoidable downside of the technique.

At least he had learned from last time. He hadn't dumped every drop of power into it like he had against the yellow-robed demon. The Shura Blade had taken some damage, but it was still usable.

He could take it to Nico later for a full maintenance job. She would have it back in perfect condition.

During the fight he had also noticed something else.

When he used techniques like [Dimensional Slash: Zero] with the Shura Blade, they didn't feel nearly as smooth or lethal as they had with Yamato.

The Shura Blade version relied on raw physical cutting power.

Yamato carried its own law of severing space. It didn't just cut flesh and bone — it sliced through dimensions themselves, ignoring conventional defense.

There was a massive difference in quality.

"I really need to get my own proper Devil Arm made," Soren muttered, sheathing the blade again. "Doesn't have to match Yamato, but it should at least let me use those techniques at full strength."

He already had some rough ideas about what he wanted the new weapon to look like and how it should function, but the details still needed work.

"Knock knock knock."

The sound of someone rapping on the hotel room door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Who is it?"

Soren's voice was cautious. The only people who knew he was staying here were Bill and the others.

"Hello? Anyone in there? Room service."

A slightly flirty male voice came from the hallway.

"Room service?"

Soren raised an eyebrow. Since when did room service just show up unannounced?

He stood up and opened the door.

A young man stood outside.

Messy brown hair, a flashy red scarf tucked inside his coat, and an old SLR camera hanging around his neck.

When the door opened, he pushed his glasses up and gave Soren what he clearly thought was a charming, roguish smile.

Soren looked at the outfit and a name flashed through his mind.

"Luca?"