“Summon Luton.” The moment the last command echoed, the whole atmosphere seemed to pause.

For a brief second, everything halted. The magic essence that gathered into the blue portal in the sky was anything but normal.

Wooooong…

The portal hummed loudly as though announcing the arrival of something that would end the fight.

Plop!

Out of the portal fell a red slimy figure barely the size of a human head.

For a portal with such a large mana essence the creature that came outside didn’t quite fit it. It was both small and ordinary looking even though it had an odd appearance.

They’d never seen such a thing which made them very cautious towards it.

The humans found it bizarre and even their enemies, the demons…

Even the demons hesitated.

Damien smirked as he stared at his summons.

Now, it wasn’t one man.

It was a pantheon.

Four beasts—each one worthy of fear on their own—now flanked Damien in formation.

And he hadn’t moved yet.

He simply lifted one hand.

“Let loose and go wild. Nothing’s stopping y’all.” Damien gave one last command to his summons.

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Cerbe surged forward like a living battering ram, crashing into the nearest wave of demons with such force that the ground shattered beneath his paws. His three heads clamped down on three separate targets, ripping and tossing them like ragdolls.

When he didn’t want to bite or chew, flames like lava shot out of his mouth.

Skylar dove from above, its shadow blanketing a full stretch of the battlefield. With a single breath, it unleashed a plume of black flame so hot it turned stone to glass.

Fenrir bolted straight into the densest cluster, weaving through beasts like wind, his body a blur of cold fury. Every slash cut through limbs. Every roar sent demons scattering.

Luton bounced, rolled, expanded—consuming wounded demons whole and ejecting their bones. One parasitic demon leapt at the slime. Luton simply engulfed it and turned redder.

[Kill Count: 312 / 5,000]

[Kill Count: 398 / 5,000]

[Kill Count: 521 / 5,000]

Even Greshan’s fighters—hardened and numb to awe—stopped firing.

A beastmaster on the southern wall whispered, “That… that’s not mana control. That’s warfare.”

“He’s used to such brutality. It’s evident in the way he fights.” Another warrior said, unable to break into a smile when he saw Damien’s performance out there.

“He’s enjoying it a little too much.” Someone else pointed out even from the distance.

Another mage, voice dry with disbelief, said, “We don’t need reinforcements. We need him to stay mad.”

“How did such a young fellow become like this?” One older man was forced to ask no one in particular seeing how Damien cut through demons and when he was about to get ambushed, one of his summons would always intervene. The synergy was nothing they’d ever seen.

It was simply a five versus all scenario except these five consisted of one human and four mana beasts none of them had ever seen before now.

From the back line, Lyone stood with wide eyes, gripping his blade tightly.

“Holy stars,” he whispered. “I trained with that guy this morning.”

He glanced around.

No one heard him but he didn’t mind.

They were too busy watching Damien tear open the battlefield like it owed him blood.

In the middle of it all, Damien was calm.

Focused.

The system notifications kept flooding in, but he paid them no mind. He’d check the tally later.

Right now, he was here to do one thing: hunting.

This wasn’t just duty.

It wasn’t justice.

It wasn’t protection.

This was simply an opportunity that presented itself to Damien.

With each demon soul, he carved a path toward his next evolution. A new summon as well as a new subskill. Whatever the system offered next—he wanted it.

And he would earn it in ash and blood.

The field quickly changed.

Where once there had been disjointed lines and chaotic engagement, now there was something more structured—a rhythm. The mercenaries and Dunters of Greshan had stopped treating the battlefield like a last stand.

They had started treating it like a hunt.

And Damien was the apex predator they rallied behind. While he remained at the very front, cutting through whatever demons that came close enough, the others remained behind the traps, waiting for whatever demon crossed, if they did cross the traps set for them.

Every motion Damien made had become a signal. When he surged forward, the flanks closed in. When he drew the demons’ attention, they adjusted their glyph lines, tightened their barriers, and extended their traps.

Cerbe guarded the right corridor—pacing like a guardian hound beside a broken cliff trail. Nothing got past him. Any creature that dared edge around Damien’s blitz found itself torn apart by three gnashing jaws and tossed in pieces back toward the horde. Hellish Flames burned through demons in tens.

Skylar held the sky.

The Shadowfang Wyvern circled overhead, swooping in low when the demons grouped too tight. Each dive brought a spray of black fire and crashing winds, scattering the enemy ranks and keeping pressure off the Greshan walls.

Fenrir had gone deep.

Deeper than any other summon had dared.

He was a phantom in the rear flank, appearing only long enough to rip through a pack leader or freeze an entire cluster before vanishing again into mist and ice.

And Luton…

Luton was simply devouring and growing.

Each time the slime devoured a corpse, its color deepened. Each glow pulse strengthened. It had become a portable battlefield hazard—absorbing demonic essence as though it were supplements for its growth.

[Kill Count: 733 / 5,000]

[Summons Total Combined Kills: 261]

Damien stood at the heart of it, no longer moving with urgency, but with purpose. Sweat lined his brow. Blood trickled from a fresh cut above his right eye. But his grip was steady. His steps unshaken.

A cluster of Grade Five demons began to form on the southern slope—trying to rush past the chaos into the outer city paths.

Damien raised his hand toward Skylar.

A single whistle.

Skylar dove.

Swoooooshh…

The wyvern’s wings closed, body twisting midair before it opened its jaws and unleashed a beam of searing black heat directly into the center of the slope.

Shhhhh…

Earth melted. Stone cracked. The screeching ceased.

The Greshan fighters behind Damien cheered.

“He saw that group before we did!”

“Did he just… signal the wyvern with a whistle?!”

“He’s not summoning beasts—he’s commanding weapons.”

On the rear wall, Lyone gripped the railing tightly. “That’s right,” he muttered.

Even though this was the first battle he’d watched Damien fight in, he was deeply invested. “You show them and later, you’ll teach me those moves.”

Another System ping flared across Damien’s vision.

[Kill Count: 897 / 5,000]

He stepped forward again.

“Wind Magic: Rift Cleaver.”

The spell activated—a silver curve of mana forming along the edge of his staff like a scythe. He swung once. The arc extended thirty meters, cutting through a line of advancing demons like a blade through paper.

They dropped before they could scream.

[Kill Count: 927 / 5,000]

A voice crackled in his mind.

Skylar.

Danger from above. Left ridge.

Damien turned.

He saw it—a glider demon, shaped like a ragged bird with six scythe-like wings.

Kreeeeeeii!!

It screeched downward, aiming for the support casters behind him.

Damien didn’t blink.

He called.

“Cerbe—take it.”

The hound twisted its heads in unison and leapt into the air.

Despite his size, Cerbe moved like a wraith. His middle jaw clamped down on the demon mid-flight, pulling it to the ground in a sonic crunch that made even the front-line mercenaries flinch.

[Kill Count: 932 / 5,000]

More demons poured in.

They were getting more aggressive now—sensing the danger Damien posed, they started sending their smarter variants. Grade Fours in coordinated clusters. Some even used demonic essence attacks—unrefined, unstable—but dangerous in numbers.

A flare of green flame rushed toward Damien.

He ducked, spun forward through the smoke, and drove his staff through the caster’s gut.

“Too slow.”

He turned, struck the next attacker with a side-palm laced in kinetic pulse. The demon collapsed.

Two more down.

[Kill Count: 956 / 5,000]

On the upper ridgeline, a squad of mercenaries was about to be overrun—flanked by a sudden group of faster demons that had avoided the front line.

Before they could fall, a blue portal snapped open in midair above them.

Boooom!

Fenrir dropped like a comet. Damien had cancelled and then resummoned Fenrir where he wanted.

The large white wolf landed with both claws extended, crushing the two lead demons, then howled so loud that wind erupted in all directions. The remaining attackers were thrown backwards—literally—locked in place by the sheer pressure of the essence surge.

The mercenaries stood in stunned silence.

One of them finally whispered, “We need to hire that thing.”

“You ask if it wants to be hired,” another said.

Back below, Damien’s kill count ticked again.

[Kill Count: 981 / 5,000]

He breathed in. Eyes half-lidded. Staff flickering with stored essence.

He charged forward.

One, two, three.

He tore through the last of the cluster with no hesitation, now weaving between his summons, almost dancing between fangs and talons.

Cerbe slammed the final beast from the flank.

Damien caught it midair with a burst of essence.

And then—he ended it.

Staff driven through the chest.

Pulse of essence.

The body exploded in a ring of ash.

[Kill Count: 1,000 / 5,000]

Ding!

[Milestone Reached: 1,000 Demons Slain]

[Reward: +50,000 Essence Units]

Damien exhaled slowly as he felt magic essence surge toward him.

And smiled.

He hadn’t even broken stride.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep