Chapter 479: New Variants

There was no dramatic punch, no drawn-out conflict.

Damien simply twisted, grabbed the mercenary by the collar, and slammed him into the ground fast enough to knock him unconscious in a single strike.

Bang!

The other mercenaries jumped back.

“L-let’s go,” one whispered.

They scattered without a word.

Seliah stared. “That… was unnecessary.”

“I warned him by walking away,” Damien said calmly. “He ignored it.”

Fenrir chuffed in agreement.

He had bigger concerns—his journey tonight, the island waiting in the distant seas, the demons beginning to spread more aggressively, the unseen group creating variants, and the constant pull of the unknown waiting ahead.

But for now, he had a quiet afternoon left. A final moment of peace before plunging into whatever awaited him beyond the northern continent.

He glanced at the sky.

Evening wasn’t far.

Tonight, he would leave.

And the world—already whispering his names—would either forget him or remember him for something far larger.

The evening sun hung low against the horizon, bleeding orange light across the kingdom’s stone streets. The air smelled faintly of roasted grain and simmering stew — the scent of normal life returning after a long day.

Damien walked beside Seliah with steady steps, while Fenrir moved silently behind them and Luton perched on his shoulder like an oversized, quivering ornament.

They had just finished their final round of strolling. Damien had already decided he would leave tonight, once the sun’s final rays dipped behind the walls. His map was secure within his cloak. His supplies were stored neatly within Luton’s Universal Space. Everything was set.

Seliah walked ahead a few paces, her posture relaxed, humming softly as they approached the western gate that led toward the barracks.

“Hard to believe you’ve only been here two days,” she said lightly. “Feels like you’ve been around longer.”

Damien shrugged. “I’ve caused enough trouble to make it seem longer.”

She laughed. “You mean you’ve caused enough miracles.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because she somehow knew he hated praise.

They were only a dozen steps from the barracks gate when order shattered.

THOOOOM.

A horn bellowed across the entire kingdom — long, low, and filled with urgency.

Seliah froze. Damien didn’t.

He spun immediately toward the direction of the western farmlands beyond the walls as a second horn shrieked through the air.

WREEEOOOO—!!!

This one was higher pitched. Sharper.

A demon alarm.

“DAMMIT,” Seliah hissed, already reaching for the spear strapped across her back.

The ground beneath their feet vibrated faintly, the signature ripple of demonic essence gathering in one direction. Damien’s eyes narrowed.

They were under attack.

“Seliah,” he said sharply, “warn the barracks. I’ll be going ahead to keep things under wrap.”

She didn’t hesitate or even dare to argue as she knew if anyone could hold back the demons for reinforcement, it was Damien. She sprinted toward the gate, shouting orders to the nearest guards as she ran.

Damien turned away.

Fenrir lifted his large head, ears perked forward, teeth bared.

Luton quivered, its body emitting a faint, hungry hum.

“Yeah,” Damien murmured. “I know. You both want to eat.”

Black smoke rose over the farmlands in the distance—thin, dark tendrils carried by the wind. Screams followed half a breath later.

Damien’s boots were already moving alongside that of his wolf, Fenrir who was speeding through the streets like a white blur.

By the time Damien reached the open plains beyond the city walls, dozens of soldiers had already formed a defensive line along the dirt road. Haldric was at the front, barking orders while tightening the grip on his halberd.

“Hold formation! Archers on the ridge — NOW! Don’t let them break through!”

Another one shouted even louder. “Don’t even let the come close!”

The farmers who lived here were hurriedly being escorted behind the soldiers. Wagons, livestock, and crates of supplies lay abandoned, some overturned.

Demons swarmed the western fields in dozens, maybe more. Their dark forms scattered between the crops like ink on water.

Haldric who had been closer to the are when the whole thing started, spotted Damien at once.

“BY THE GODS, YOU’RE HERE!” he yelled. “TAKE A FLANK! WE CAN’T HOLD THE CENTER!”

Damien didn’t need to be asked twice.

Behind him, Fenrir burst forward with a deep, rumbling snarl — the kind that sent weaker demons staggering back. Luton bounced off Damien’s shoulder and hit the ground like a rubbery sphere, its slimy tendrils already extending.

Damien took in the scene quickly.

Most demons were normal standard ones — the twisted, black-skinned foot soldiers he’d met countless times before and killed just as much times. But several others were the variants he’d spoken about. Some were even newer ones he’d never seen.

His eyes tightened.

New forms.

Smaller, faster variants with elongated limbs and glowing black-ish purple veins weaved between their larger brethren.

The demon creators really were still working. He didn’t know what mana beast they’d used this time because of the deformity but he knew they were going to be a problem for weaker human opponents.

“Figures,” Damien muttered. “Couldn’t make my life easier, could you?”

A demon lunged toward him.

Damien met it with a single step and cracked his elbow into its throat. Bone shattered. The creature flew back three meters, landing limp on the scorched soil. It was dead.

Fenrir crashed into the cluster beside him, jaws clamping onto a demon’s torso. Blood sprayed. Another demon tried to flank the wolf but Fenrir whipped his tail, striking the creature’s skull and snapping its neck instantly.

Luton, meanwhile, was already devouring.

The Stellar Slime rolled toward a fallen demon, wrapped it up with its body, and swallowed it whole with a wet, sucking sound. One moment, it was there and the next, it was gone.

Another demon attempted to stop it but the Slime simply expanded, engulfing it like a blanket, then shrunk back down.

“S-stay away from the red one!” a soldier screamed.

“THE WHAT?!” another yelled.

“THE SLIME! DON’T LET IT TOUCH YOU!”

Damien smirked. “Smart man. But it’s not like it’ll eat you when there are better options like these demons.”

Soldiers held the center while Damien and Fenrir shredded the left flank. Luton stirred chaos wherever it bounced.

Haldric’s roars carried above the clash.

“ARCHERS, FIRE!”

A rain of essence infused arrows soared overhead, puncturing the air and embedding themselves into demonic flesh. Several demons dropped instantly. A few variant ones dodged, zig-zagging unnaturally fast.

One of those variants shot toward Damien with a screeching hiss, claws extended.

Damien’s hand snapped forward.

CRACK!

He grabbed the creature by the face and slammed it into the ground so hard the earth dented. The demon spasmed once before going limp, blood leaking from the back of its head.

Behind him, Seliah who’d arrived with reinforcement, sprinted into the fray with her spear. She stabbed through a demon’s chest, twirled, and gutted a second one with impressive precision.

Damien nodded slightly. She’d grown even more in the last few days.

A burst of purple energy erupted from the far right, and one of the new variant demons leapt over three soldiers, landing behind their line.

Haldric cursed. “ONE GOT THROUGH!”

It screeched, charging toward a farmer who’d fallen behind.

Damien moved.

Fenrir moved faster.

The white wolf blurred, a streak of pale fur and killing intent. Before the demon could even strike, Fenrir sank his fangs into its spine, ripping it clean in half.

“By the spirits…” Seliah whispered. “That wolf…”

Damien didn’t hear her. He was already scanning the field.

More demons were emerging from far into the distance. Ten… twenty… thirty… Too many to be random.

“Looks like they’re testing the kingdom,” Damien muttered. “Or pushing for a breach before the real army arrives.”

The thought irritated him.

He hated being right about demon movements.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply.

Fenrir barked in response.

Luton vibrated excitedly.

“Let’s clear them out.”

Fenrir tore into the next wave of demons like the force of nature that it was. His claws glowed faintly with white essence, each swipe sending bodies flying. He bulldozed through ranks, opening gaps for soldiers to push forward.

Luton bounced along the battlefield, swallowing down corpses or crushing fresh demons beneath its surprisingly heavy body. Every time it consumed one, its surface flickered with brief bursts of red light as it continued to absorb their essence.

The new variants gave Damien the most trouble.

They were faster. Jittery. Unpredictable.

One darted behind him.

Damien twisted, too slow as he’d underestimated the demon’s speed.

It slashed.

Fenrir’s tail intercepted, smashing it aside.

Another came from the front, claws glowing purple.

Damien blocked with his forearm, letting the claws scrape against hardened essence, then kicked the demon in the knee.

It broke with a crack.

The demon shrieked.

Damien grabbed its throat and yanked, tearing its windpipe out with a sickening crunch sound. He had no plans of letting any one of them live any longer that today.

“Disgusting things.” He spat.

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