Ding!

[Kill Count: 2,027 / 5,000]

[Combined Summon Kills: 1,154]

Bang!

Crack!

Damien’s staff spun in his grip as he crushed the last demon’s skull beneath a pulse-loaded strike.

The corpse collapsed in silence, but his eyes weren’t on the battlefield anymore.

They were fixed somewhere beyond it—north, where he could feel the thread of Aquila’s bond vibrating with tension.

The sensation was subtle.

A ripple. A pull.

A pressure that didn’t belong in the chaos he was used to since he got out of the forest. It felt primal as though he’d once again returned to the Forest of Twin Disasters.

The bond didn’t feel severed—not even strained by pain.

But it was tight. Coiled. Like the beast was tensed to shield something.

Damien didn’t need the full picture.

He didn’t even need words.

He just knew.

Arielle was in danger. And so was Aquila for some reason.

And whoever— or whatever—was with her now? It wasn’t enough.

While none of them knew his actual name, they had all silently agreed to call him one thing. “Silver-haired!”

A Dunter commander ran up behind him, covered in ash and blood. “That new cluster’s about to breach the second trench line—what’s the plan?”

Damien didn’t answer.

His grip on the staff tightened. His jaw clenched.

He looked at the map that only he could see. It wasn’t really a map. More like a mental image or imagination rather, of the distance between himself and the presence he could sense.

Distance to Arielle’s Location was approximately 150 kilometres.

Too far.

Too many bodies between them.

He had to clear the field. And fast.

[Kill Count: 2,032 / 5,000]

He moved.

Not like a man—but like a storm given shape.

Damien lunged into the thickest part of the enemy horde, staff sweeping, body spinning with tight, efficient arcs.

Swoooosh!

Each motion connected bone to dust. Claws reached for him; he shattered them. Fangs snapped at his throat; he crushed them underfoot.

He wouldn’t have anything threaten his well-being. He needed to get to Arielle and Aquila and he needed to get there as fast as he could.

Fenrir rejoined him, leaping between trees and tearing the legs from anything that tried to retreat or even attack.

Skylar shadowed him from above, blackfire pouring in rhythmic cones of obliteration that scorched demons into ash. On this Wyvern’s watch, nothing would lay hands on Damien, its summoner.

Cerbe came in from the flank like a battering ram of teeth and fury, slamming into a brute so hard it split in two on impact.

Luton bounced gleefully after Damien, devouring everything that got close—bones, blades, blood and all. There was no limit to its (Devour) skill.

It was massacre.

Relentless.

As minutes counted, so did Damien’s kills.

[Kill Count: 2,279 / 5,000]

But Damien wasn’t satisfied.

He needed to end this front now.

To get to her.

A demon lunged from behind—he spun and slammed the butt of his staff backward, crushing its throat without turning around.

Another dropped from a tree.

Skylar incinerated it mid-air.

Another shrieked a spell and pointed at his back.

Damien caught the mana signature, angled his body, and deflected it with the flat of his weapon before driving his foot through the caster’s ribs.

The system ticked again.

[Kill Count: 2,552 / 5,000]

Still not enough.

He roared and launched himself into a group of thirty.

They never stood a chance.

He flowed between them like death, combining precise magic skills with sheer force.

He didn’t even stop moving to cast.

“Flash Hook.”

A demon flew into the air, caught by the magnetic snap of an invisible chain.

“Pulse Slam.”

The impact of the follow-up strike cratered the earth and blew six more into the trees.

[Kill Count: 2,798 / 5,000]

Blood soaked the field.

Damien exhaled hard, gripping his chest as energy surged unnaturally fast.

The number climbed again.

[Kill Count: 2,999 / 5,000]

A predator tried to run—he appeared in front of it, point-blank, and drove his staff straight into its chest.

[Kill Count: 3,000 / 5,000]

Ding!

[Milestone Reached: 3,000 Demons Slain]

[New Skill Unlocked – Hell’s Descent]

[Type: Area of Effect (Fire Magic, B-Rank Skill)]

[Description: Ignite a 10-meter radius around the caster in molten lava forged from corrupted fire essence.

– Only targets deemed hostile will be burned and consumed.

– Allies and non-registered entities remain unharmed.

Duration: 18 seconds

Cooldown: 2 minutes.]

Damien stopped cold in the center of the field.

Around him, demons were still moving—but none dared rush him now.

His magic crackled around him like a sun rising behind smoke.

He let out a slow breath.

And whispered, “Finally, another skill and it’s one with a good area of effect.”

He raised his hand.

And activated it.

“Hell’s Descent.”

The ground beneath his feet lit with runic fire.

A massive seal bloomed outward from his boots—ten meters in every direction—etched in molten gold and deep red.

Then—the earth split.

Crack!

Lava roared from below, erupting in sudden veins of fire.

Bwoooooooom!!

The temperature soared. The ground beneath every demon turned liquid, molten.

Screams rose.

Demons boiled from the inside.

Their armor, their skin, their essence coated bodies—none of it mattered.

They didn’t just burn.

They melted.

Those near the edge tried to run.

Damien pointed at them.

They were deemed enemies.

The lava followed.

Only those outside the targeting filter—Mercenaries, Dunters, stray animals, and summons of other summoners—remained untouched, watching from the edge as their enemies were swallowed by the land itself.

[Kill Count: 3,066 / 5,000]

A Dunters lieutenant gaped from thirty feet away.

“What in the name of the gods is that…?”

His partner dropped to one knee. “That’s not a magic skill. That’s… a death zone.”

From within the lava pool, Damien stood motionless.

Unburned.

Unblinking.

His gaze still pointed north.

Toward Arielle.

Toward the thing he could still feel from here.

“I’m coming,” he whispered.

And then he moved again.

[Kill Count: 3,066 / 5,000]

[Combined Summon Kills: 1,791]

[Cooldown Active – Hell’s Descent: 1min 44secs remaining]

Steam hissed from cracks in the stone as the last demon dissolved into a pool of molten earth. Around Damien, flames retreated into the cracked runes that birthed them, leaving a scorched radius littered with ash and glowing stone.

He turned slowly toward the Dunters and mercenaries still standing.

Some were panting. A few were frozen mid-step. One man’s armor clanked softly as he slumped against a broken barricade, staring at Damien like he’d just watched a myth walk into reality.

“You’re leaving?” one Dunters captain called out, stepping forward, eyes wary.

Damien gave a curt nod. “I’m heading to the North ridge. There’s something I need to handle.”

The man frowned. “You’re abandoning the field?”

“I’m trusting you to hold what I cleared.”

The Dunters exchanged glances. No one spoke.

Then the captain nodded. “Understood. We’ll keep the line.”

Damien turned, his cloak scorched at the hem but still flowing as he lifted a hand to the sky.

“Skylar. Come.”

The air above bent.

A gust of wind shattered the silence as a ripple tore through the clouds.

And then he appeared—Skylar, the ShadowFang Wyvern, wings stretched wide, eyes glowing like molten opals, black smoke trailing behind him like the sky itself had torn.

The wyvern screeched once as it dove from above and landed hard enough to crack stone.

Damien didn’t hesitate.

He leapt onto Skylar’s back and gave a single command—one tied through their shared summoning link.

“Fly. To Aquila.”

The beast understood instantly.

Their senses were shared and the direction was clear.

Without another sound, Skylar launched into the sky—his wings casting massive shadows over the stunned defenders below.

Back on the ground, Cerbe continued his rampage, slamming demons aside with flaming jaws while Fenrir danced between flank units, chomping joints and slashing clean through tendon.

Luton, monstrous now, swelled larger with every corpse, sending out mana pulses that stunned anything nearby.

[Kill Count: 3,144 / 5,000]

But Damien wasn’t there to see it.

He had thirty minutes to reach the ridge at full speed.

And something told him—that might not be fast enough.

~~~~~

Twenty-five minutes into the battle between the Commander and the bizarre demon, the battlefield was now scorched, cratered, and silent at the center.

The first Grade Three demon stood in the smoke, its blade-arm cleaved but regrowing—black tendrils twitching, reforming the lost mass.

Across from it, the commander of the eastern battalion was panting for the first time. Blood ran from a cut along his cheek. His magic beast stood beside him, one antler broken, its obsidian fur matted with glowing ichor.

They had held.

For now.

But everything changed when the second arrived.

It came with no roar. No aura. Just pressure.

A flash of shadow beside the first monster—and suddenly there were two.

The second one was sleeker, more humanoid. Taller than the first. Its skin was pale-gray, stretched thin over lean muscle. Its arms were long and perfectly still, but each fingertip ended in a curved, glasslike talon.

Its eyes were solid black. Empty.

Arielle watched from the ridge.

The moment it arrived, she knew.

The tide had turned.

The first demon darted forward again, testing the commander’s defenses while the second simply stood still—watching. Waiting.

Then it moved.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep