Blood soaked the ground.
Ash rampaged overhead, flames raining down, Soul Flame orbs detonating in clusters of beasts. Wolves howled. Lycans roared. Shadows burned. The battlefield turned into absolute chaos.
And Bruce was at the center of it.
Then Vaelith's voice echoed calmly in his mind.
[The Lycans' aura is… strange. Particularly dense. They appear to be SS-ranked beasts.]
Bruce's brows furrowed slightly, but his momentum didn't slow in the slightest. He spun, slit another throat, stepped off a collapsing corpse, and drove Red through the skull of a lunging wolf.
Really? he thought flatly.
From his perspective, they felt weak.
Cutting through them felt no different than slaughtering ordinary Moon Wolves. Stronger, yes, but nowhere near what he expected from SS-ranked beasts.
As another Lycan fell at his feet, Vaelith spoke again.
At that moment, Vaelith's voice echoed again in Bruce's mind, calm and precise.
[Do not underestimate Red, Bruce.]
