Some dropped from the ceiling.
Others burst from the walls.
A few clawed their way up from the ground—all of them converging at once, piling in, reaching to pin him down as their voices shook the cave in a warped, deafening symphony.
But it didn't matter.
The moment their broken songs touched him—
They vanished.
Gone.
Swallowed into nothing but silence and stillness as his orb-like eyes deepened, pulling everything inward.
This was his ability.
The gift his class had given him.
To devour broken songs.
It strained him—he could feel it pressing against his mind—but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
Resisting the urge to laugh, Elias finally began to move.
Before the horde could collapse in on him, he shot forward—straight into them.
His hand caught the first Echoform.
Crunch.
Its jagged arm tore apart in a spray of green blood as Elias drove his other hand into its chest. The creature flickered wildly, trying to escape—
But something like that was incapable of stopping him now.
His hand punched through.
A shriek tore out of it—sharp, dying—
And by the time the others reacted, he was already gone.
He appeared right within the horde.
Then the screaming started.
Not chaotic this time.
Rhythmic.
Like a lullaby twisted into something wrong.
The wet sound of tearing flesh echoed through the canyon as Elias tore into them with nothing but his hands. Fingers ripping, pulling, splitting them open like they were nothing.
He didn't reach for a weapon.
Didn't even think about it.
He was too angry—
Too done—
To give them anything that clean.
Green blood rained down on him, thick and warm, soaking into his tattered clothes, dripping from his hands as he tore another one apart.
Bodies hit the ground.
One after another.
It happened fast, so fast that the bodies soon began to pile up.
Until he stood in the middle of it, drenched in green gore and unmoving—
Like something born for slaughter.
The remaining Fractured Howlers hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then they changed.
Their gleeful madness twisted into something sharper. Their songs didn't work—and they knew it now.
So they adapted.
Elias caught the shift instantly.
One lunged from the wall, a jagged stalagmite clutched in its grip as it aimed to impale him, while two more rushed from the front, their eyes no longer gleeful but filled with raw murder and rage.
Elias couldn't help but laugh—and then he disappeared.
Every time he killed an Echoform and absorbed its fragment, Elias felt it—subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But now?
Now it was obvious.
He was getting faster.
Stronger.
And after cutting through this many of them, the difference wasn't small anymore.
Hell—he was moving like a bullet out of a shotgun!
He closed in on the one holding the stalagmite. The creature barely managed to shift its gaze toward him—
But it was too late now.
Its head was already falling.
Elias didn't even pause. He turned away, blood dripping from his hands, and kicked the corpse straight into the other two before it could dissolve.
Bang!
They slammed into the canyon walls, their shrieks spiking higher. But they didn't stay down—they scrambled back up and rushed him again without hesitation.
Elias grinned.
He shot forward to meet them—
Then twisted midair at the last second as another Echoform burst out from the ground, missing him by a hair.
He landed lightly, already moving. Before the creature could react, he brought his leg down and crushed its head in a single motion—
It burst apart like a watermelon.
The other two were already on him.
And not just them.
More poured in, snarling and singing in their warped, distorted voices as they closed the distance all at once.
And just like that—
It started again.Some dropped from the ceiling.
Others burst from the walls.
A few clawed their way up from the ground—all of them converging at once, piling in, reaching to pin him down as their voices shook the cave in a warped, deafening symphony.
But it didn't matter.
The moment their broken songs touched him—
They vanished.
Gone.
Swallowed into nothing but silence and stillness as his orb-like eyes deepened, pulling everything inward.
This was his ability.
The gift his class had given him.
To devour broken songs.
It strained him—he could feel it pressing against his mind—but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
Resisting the urge to laugh, Elias finally began to move.
Before the horde could collapse in on him, he shot forward—straight into them.
His hand caught the first Echoform.
Crunch.
Its jagged arm tore apart in a spray of green blood as Elias drove his other hand into its chest. The creature flickered wildly, trying to escape—
But something like that was incapable of stopping him now.
His hand punched through.
A shriek tore out of it—sharp, dying—
And by the time the others reacted, he was already gone.
He appeared right within the horde.
Then the screaming started.
Not chaotic this time.
Rhythmic.
Like a lullaby twisted into something wrong.
The wet sound of tearing flesh echoed through the canyon as Elias tore into them with nothing but his hands. Fingers ripping, pulling, splitting them open like they were nothing.
He didn't reach for a weapon.
Didn't even think about it.
He was too angry—
Too done—
To give them anything that clean.
Green blood rained down on him, thick and warm, soaking into his tattered clothes, dripping from his hands as he tore another one apart.
Bodies hit the ground.
One after another.
It happened fast, so fast that the bodies soon began to pile up.
Until he stood in the middle of it, drenched in green gore and unmoving—
Like something born for slaughter.
The remaining Fractured Howlers hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then they changed.
Their gleeful madness twisted into something sharper. Their songs didn't work—and they knew it now.
So they adapted.
Elias caught the shift instantly.
One lunged from the wall, a jagged stalagmite clutched in its grip as it aimed to impale him, while two more rushed from the front, their eyes no longer gleeful but filled with raw murder and rage.
Elias couldn't help but laugh—and then he disappeared.
Every time he killed an Echoform and absorbed its fragment, Elias felt it—subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But now?
Now it was obvious.
He was getting faster.
Stronger.
And after cutting through this many of them, the difference wasn't small anymore.
Hell—he was moving like a bullet out of a shotgun!
He closed in on the one holding the stalagmite. The creature barely managed to shift its gaze toward him—
But it was too late now.
Its head was already falling.
Elias didn't even pause. He turned away, blood dripping from his hands, and kicked the corpse straight into the other two before it could dissolve.
Bang!
They slammed into the canyon walls, their shrieks spiking higher. But they didn't stay down—they scrambled back up and rushed him again without hesitation.
Elias grinned.
He shot forward to meet them—
Then twisted midair at the last second as another Echoform burst out from the ground, missing him by a hair.
He landed lightly, already moving. Before the creature could react, he brought his leg down and crushed its head in a single motion—
It burst apart like a watermelon.
The other two were already on him.
And not just them.
More poured in, snarling and singing in their warped, distorted voices as they closed the distance all at once.
And just like that—
It started again.
***
Elyndra watched everything unfold, practically vibrating with excitement as she hopped in place, unable to stay still.
"Go get them! Shove a stick inside that one's ass!"
"Hey! You missed one!"
"Get that one—it's running away!"
Elyndra had never felt this much joy since her awakening.
This—this completely blew past the satisfaction of watching Elias get kicked in the butt.
Maybe it was the lingering irritation from everything the monsters had put them through.
Or maybe—if she was being honest—
She was just a natural sadist.
Her grin didn't fade as she watched the battlefield thin out, the once overwhelming horde reduced to a scattered few. One after another, they fell beneath Elias' hands, their cries of pain and broken anguish echoing through the canyon.
She clicked her tongue as the last of them dropped, Elias standing atop a mound of corpses.
"I can't believe the fun ended so soon."
But then—
The water behind her churned.
Elyndra's head snapped toward it, her eyes lighting up as thick columns of vapor burst out of the surface, shooting into the air like clouds being torn apart before crashing down onto the bridge of stone below like heavy rain.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
"I almost forgot about this guy…"
She stretched lazily, rolling her shoulders as her grin widened.
"On second thought, the fun is just starting."
***
Berrot was known by many names.
The Mad King. The Screaming King. The Phantom of Avarice.
And many more.
But at its core, Berrot was simple.
It saw itself as a ruler—one that cared for its underlings. To it, there was nothing greater than having a place to call its own, a domain filled with creatures just like itself.
A home.
But just as deeply as it loved them—
It hated another species.
The humans.
Those wretched, disgusting creatures that had cast it and its kind out, forcing them into this dimension, cutting them off from the outside world. It recalled the red haired human, the one holding a pointy thing that had given him grievous wounds.
The human that had caused them to return back to this wretched place.
Berrot's thoughts churned, spiraling, feeding into themselves.
Hatred.
Hatred.
Hatred.
It wanted them gone.
All of them.
It wanted them to suffer—to drown in despair—
While it fed on their minds until nothing was left but madness.
However, there was another reason Berrot hated those human creatures so much.
'Feed.'
It was always there.
That persistent voice in his head, pressing against his thoughts, urging him to feed on their sweet, sweet souls.
Berrot hated it.
It wouldn't stop.
It kept nagging. Pulling. Pushing him closer and closer to madness.
And it was all because of those humans.
Those cursed creatures.
That voice—it wasn't just his. It had plagued other monsters like him too, refusing to go away no matter how much they resisted.
Their souls were sweet.
Inviting.
But Berrot would feed because he wanted to.
Not because of some wretched voice barking orders in his head.
'Feed.'
No.
He would kill them.
He would kill all of them.
He would devour their sweet, fragile souls—
Yes.
Of course he would.
Just like the voice wanted him to—
No.
No.
Not the voice again.
Berrot snarled internally.
He would do it because he wanted to. Not because anything told him to. No voice could control Berrot. No voice could—
His eyes snapped open beneath the water.
Something had changed.
A sound.
Distant at first.
Then growing louder.
A stampede.
Heavy. Multiple. Pressing through the ground like an advancing tide of footsteps.
Berrot growled, its mouth glowing a deep red as the water around it began to heat up, rippling violently from the pressure of its rage.
It was being defied. How dare they barge into its territory without permission. It would wait—yes, it would wait—for them to finish their little rampage, and then it would emerge and punish every last offender properly. After that, it would feed on a few of them just enough to serve as a warning to the rest.
Berrot sank back into the water, letting silence return.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then a new sound reached its ears.
Tearing flesh. Wet, violent ripping. Followed by screams and dying thuds that echoed through the space like something being dragged apart piece by piece.
Berrot's eyes snapped open.
What was happening?!
The water beneath it began to boil instantly as its patience broke. With a violent surge, it shot out of the water and landed heavily on the ground, steam erupting around its body as it rose.
And then it saw it.
Corpses.
Scores of them.
Its subordinates lay scattered across the ground, torn and shredded, floating in thick pools of green blood that stained everything like a diseased flood.
At the center of it all stood a human boy.
Black hair. Face smeared with dried blood. A grin resting on his lips as he slowly turned toward Berrot.
There was something wrong with his eyes.
Even Berrot felt it immediately—a deep, crawling unease, like looking into something that didn't just stare back, but swallowed what it saw. The air around the boy rippled inward in strange, unnatural waves, folding toward him in a way Berrot had never encountered before.
But the feeling didn't last.
Anger swallowed it whole.
Kill him.
Destroy him.
Rip him apart until nothing remained.
Feed on his soul. Break him. Drive him mad.
How dare he touch its underlings.
How dare—
Berrot pulled its head back and let out a roar that split the air, a column of flame erupting from its mouth and tearing straight toward the human boy.