Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Twelve scorpion tails grew from his spine.

Each one was as long as an arm, covered in a dark red carapace, with a curved stinger at the end. The scorpion tails extended from behind him and flapped behind him like some kind of eerie wings.

The tip of the venomous stinger dripped a clear liquid, which, when it fell onto the ground, immediately corroded small pits.

His face, from his forehead to his chin, was covered with tiny keratinous bumps.

The protrusions were hard, like stones to the touch. His lips split open, revealing dark red gums and sharp, triangular teeth, like those of a lizard.

"Karim, Beast Taming type, codename 'Sand Scorpion'."

Hans is the ninth.

When he got out of bed, the first thing everyone noticed was his eyes.

The two eyes turned grayish-green, like cat's eye stones, but deep within the pupils, countless tiny numbers were jumping—not a metaphor, but real numbers.

The numbers flowed past his eyes like a waterfall, too fast to see clearly, each one flashing and changing.

His skin turned light gray, like concrete.

The surface is covered with intricate geometric patterns—circles, squares, triangles—layer upon layer, densely packed. These patterns are also in motion, constantly rotating, rearranging, and rotating again.

His fingers grew longer, each one twice the length of a normal person's, with protruding knuckles like spider legs.

Those fingers were moving incessantly, as if calculating something, or playing some invisible instrument.

Seven slender metal tentacles grew from his forehead to the back of his head. Those tentacles trembled slightly like antennas, capturing all the information around them.

Tiny points of light at the tips of the antennae are constantly flashing.

His mouth was slightly open, and you could see that his tongue had become forked, like a snake's tongue, with the tip of his tongue trembling incessantly, emitting a faint hissing sound.

"Hans, Strategy Department, codename 'Keyboard'."

Martin was the last one.

When he got out of bed, the others felt like they were looking at a painting.

His body—no, not his body, but his silhouette—was constantly changing.

Sometimes he looks taller, sometimes shorter, sometimes fatter, sometimes thinner, but it's not that he's actually changed; it's that when you look at him, your brain can't quite figure out what he actually looks like.

His skin had turned a dark gray, like an old photograph.

Its surface is covered with countless fine grid lines, which crisscross and divide the entire body into countless small squares. In each square, a small scene is moving, which is a corner of the battlefield, the perspective of a soldier, or the location of an enemy.

His eyes turned pure black, without pupils or whites, just two empty spaces.

But within that void, countless points of light could be seen flickering; these were thousands upon thousands of perspectives, thousands upon thousands of moments, playing simultaneously in his eyes.

Twelve thin bone spurs grew from his spine on his back.

Those bone spurs were curved, like ribs sticking out from behind.

A semi-transparent membrane connects the bone spurs, and the membrane is also covered with grid lines and flowing images.

His face was expressionless.

But his face was like a mask, his expression fixed at a certain moment, a calm, unfathomable calm, but his lips would occasionally twitch, as if he were laughing, or as if he were crying.

"Martin, Strategy Department, codename 'Chess Player'."

Ten people stood on the trial platform, looking at each other. They were still human, able to walk, talk, and think.

But he's no longer human.

Isaac stood there like a moving volcano, dark red light pulsating within the cracks of his skin like a heartbeat. With each pulsation, the surrounding temperature rose by a degree; his breathing was heavy, each exhale hot and carrying the smell of sulfur.

Thomas stood beside him, his scales gleaming coldly in the light.

The scales move, not by him, but by themselves, as if they were alive.

They kept opening and closing, rubbing against each other, making a rustling sound. He would occasionally blink, and a cold glint would flash in his silver-gray eyes.

Marcus crouched on the edge of the testing platform, like an ice sculpture.

A thin layer of frost had formed around him, and the frost flowers spread outwards. He opened his mouth, revealing four dagger-like canine teeth, and let out a low growl from his throat. The sound was not like that of a wolf, but like something much older.

Elena stood in the light of the cold moon, her icy hair swaying gently.

The three pairs of cracks on her face opened and closed, and a pale blue light flickered rhythmically. She raised her hand, and with a gentle stroke of her finger, an ice blade condensed in the air.

Michelle stood there, like a golden sun.

The golden spikes extending from her back trembled slightly, emitting a faint hum, and the seven pairs of tentacles on her face slowly wriggled, as if exploring the energy around her.

Kyle's figure appeared and disappeared, his black, skeletal form constantly twisting; sometimes the other nine could not see anything at all, only a void.

However, his white eye reappeared, this time on his left cheek, staring intently at the others.

Lyra stood there, enveloped in warm light.

But the eyes on the back of her hand kept moving around, some looking at other people, some looking elsewhere, and some observing her own hand. There was no warmth in those eyes, only a calm, almost cruel observation.

Karim crouched on the edge of the trial platform, his twelve scorpion tails swaying slowly behind him like some kind of eerie flower.

The tips of those venomous stingers dripped a clear liquid, which dripped onto the ground and corroded small pits. His amber vertical pupils gleamed in the darkness as he stared into the distant void.

Hans's fingers were moving incessantly, as if he were calculating something.

The metal tentacles on his head trembled slightly, capturing every piece of information in the air. His forked tongue occasionally darted out to lick his lips, emitting a soft hissing sound.

Martin stood on the very edge, like a ghost.

His body outline kept changing, the images within those grid lines were jumping wildly, and countless moments of battle were playing simultaneously on the bone spur membrane on his back—victory, defeat, life, and death.

“From today onwards,” Wu Heng’s voice came from the void, “you are the first batch of members of the Demon Hunter Knights.”

"Your bodies have been modified, possessing an unknown lifespan, super self-healing abilities, immunity to attacks from low-level angels and demons, and the ability to freely travel between the human world, heaven, and hell."

"Your codenames are already etched in the guild's history."

"Lava, Hunter's Blade, Frost Wolf, Cold Moon, Blazing Eyes, Mist, Morning Dew, Sand Scorpion, Keyboard, Chess Player."

"Remember these names, for from this day forward, you will use them to fight your way across the world for the guild and for humanity."

After he finished speaking, Wu Heng disappeared.

The ten people stood there in silence for a long time.

Finally, Thomas spoke. (End of Chapter)