.
.
'Recall.'
Ashen suddenly stopped.
Or was it even Ashen anymore?
Tilting his head, he observed the battlefield.
But the beasts were done waiting.
With a guttural, brutal scream from their leader, the horde finally broke loose, hooves thundering as they charged, horns lowered, eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
BWA-AA-AA!
Yet before they could reach him, before they could even take more than a few steps, the air shifted.
They froze.
"...Hm?"
A simple glance from him sent their instincts into a frenzy, halting them in place.
A monster's instincts are its greatest weapon. But when pushed beyond a certain threshold, those same instincts can become a prison, shackling them in overwhelming, indescribable terror.
No flight. No fight.
Just an absolute shutdown.
But the Gorefiend… it was different.
Unlike its lesser kin, its evolution had dulled instinct in favor of dim intelligence.
And with intelligence came pride.
A pride that was now being challenged…
GRRN-CLICK-CLICK
With a sickening crunch, the Gorefiend's jaws unhinged. A frozen Hircus was torn apart in an instant.
SKREEE-ONK!
The sudden brutality, the sight of their own kind devoured, snapped the remaining horde out of their daze.
With renewed fury, they charged.
Braun and Seraphine stiffened in terror, their breath caught in their throats as they watched.
But this Ashen…
Not even the slightest hint of concern crossed his face.
Twirling his spear, he shifted into a throwing stance, so natural, endlessly effortless… before launching it forward.
Swoosh.
The spear impaled a Hircus clean through its temple, embedding itself deep into the dirt.
And before the beast had even collapsed—
Ashen was already there.
Appearing like a phantom, he balanced on the very tip of the spear's shaft, one foot resting lightly as if gravity meant nothing.
Midair, he flipped, snatched the weapon, and—
CRACK!
Impaled two more in one seamless motion.
The beasts retaliated instantly, hooves seeking to crush him, horns lunging to impale him, grotesque mouths snapping hungrily at his flesh.
None of it worked.
Every attack was met with a faint shimmer, a thin veil of blue that repelled them effortlessly.
Braun's expression contorted in shock.
Seraphine's eyes widened.
"...Is that mana?" she asked hesitantly.
"I think so…" He muttered, still struggling to wrap his head around it.
Because this wasn't normal.
This wasn't just some system-issued skill.
Ashen wasn't just using mana to fuel a skill.
He was controlling it manually, wielding it beyond the confines of ordinary ability.
And it only became more apparent as he moved.
The blue energy now coated his spear, turning it into a weapon of pure devastation. Each strike, each swing, and every movement carved a path of death through the horde.
When the beasts got too close, he didn't bother with the spear.
His hands sufficed.
Skulls were crushed.
Horns were snapped.
Throats were squeezed until flesh gave way.
With one hand wielding the spear in ruthless precision and the other delivering agonizing deaths, he advanced toward the Gorefiend at his own leisure.
The horde, in desperation, attempted to attack Braun and Seraphine—
They didn't get the chance.
Each one was met with a spear to the skull before they could take a single step toward his companions.
And when Ashen moved, it was like gliding.
A subtle glow on the soles of his feet clued them in on the truth… His legs were also being reinforced with mana.
This didn't just make him fast.
He was untouchable.
The Gorefiend finally lost patience.
Watching its horde dwindle, unease crept into its dim intelligence.
It lowered its massive, twisted horns, hooves digging into the dirt.
Like a bull preparing to charge.
Huff. Huff.
"C-careful!" Seraphine's frantic warning rang out, but Ashen barely acknowledged it.
Instead, he wrenched his spear from a fresh corpse, slinging it over his shoulder with casual ease.
Maa–aa!
With a final roar, the Gorefiend launched forward, a black blur of raw, unrelenting force.
It was so fast that Braun and Seraphine barely had time to blink before it was already upon him.
Yet, in the face of this unstoppable charge—
Ashen didn't even flinch.
A single sideways step.
A slight shift of his right shoulder.
A back twist of his right leg.
Swish.
The Gorefiend tore past him—
Or at least, it should have.
Before it could fully pass, a mana-coated hand shot forward, fingers curved like claws.
They burrowed into its upper chest, sinking deep—
Borrowing its own momentum against it…
The moment was instant, but the effect was devastating.
In the span of a breath, the Gorefiend stumbled.
Its gallop slowed to frantic, hurried steps.
Steps that became sluggish trudges.
And then…
It simply collapsed.
HOOONK… HOOONK…
The dying creature let out pitiful, gurgling screams as it thrashed, blood pooling in the dirt.
Until, finally—
It grew still.
Braun and Seraphine barely breathed.
Their wide eyes traveled to the beast's unmoving corpse.
Then, slowly, they followed the bloodied trail—
And saw him.
Standing there… expression unreadable… casually tossing a still-beating heart onto the ground.
"..."
"..."
The silence was deafening.
And for the next five minutes, Braun and Seraphine could do nothing but watch.
Watch as Ashen butchered the remaining beasts with methodical, brutal efficiency.
Every limb. Every muscle. Every part of his body became a weapon.
His fingers, his elbows, even the soles of his feet tore through flesh like wet paper.
At one point, he even used headbutts after ripping off their horns.
It wasn't just combat. It wasn't just slaughter.
It was more of a culling.
And not a single one escaped. Ashen didn't allow them to.
By the time it was over…
He was the only thing left standing amidst the carnage.
If his previous battle had been an elegant, deadly dance…
This was a butcher's ballet.
"...Haaah."
Lifting his head to the sky, he took a deep breath.
As if recalling something long forgotten.
Or maybe just reveling in a nostalgic moment.
"..."
He stood motionless, bathed in slanted rays of sunlight that crowned him in gold, as if even heaven couldn't look away.
Light spilled over his shoulders, catching in the raven-dark waves of his hair… almost like sin given a halo. His eyes, molten yet dull, gleamed under the glare.
For a moment, Seraphine and Braun held their breath. Even death itself seemed to pause, admiring how the light clung to him so reverently.