Verren blade trembled in his hand.
This wasn't just a fight—it was psychological warfare.
Even now, he could feel the aftereffects, like something greasy had been smeared across his mind. Not deep enough to control him—but definitely enough to rattle him.
He didn't even look at the wolf's body.
Instead, he turned and sprinted, pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, and the mental haze.
The camp wasn't far. He needed to get back. Regroup.
Fighting while constantly shielding his mind wasn't sustainable.
This wasn't what he trained for.
Battles like these… weren't enjoyable.
Verren clenched his jaw, trying to push the lingering headache away.
It was better to go check on the younger ones.
Michael's spear whistled through the air as he twisted his body low, sweeping one monster's legs from under it before driving the butt of the weapon into the second's gut.
The third—a grotesque boar-like beast with bony plates over its eyes—charged at him with a shriek.
Instead, he pivoted and brought the spear up in a perfect arc.
The blade carved into the beast's shoulder, not deep enough to kill, but more than enough to slow it.
"Three at once," he muttered, ducking beneath the first monster's return swing. "You're getting bolder."
They came in again, more coordinated this time.
Michael moved like a phantom—every step deliberate, every attack measured.
Michael grunted as one caught him in the side with a glancing blow, a slight ache blooming across his ribs.
He used the momentum to spin, driving his spear clean through its throat.
A gurgle, then collapse.
One lunged—too obvious. Michael sidestepped and swept its legs, then drove the blade of his spear downward, pinning it to the forest floor.
The third hesitated—hesitated—for a brief second. A flicker of awareness that should not have been there.
Michael's eyes narrowed.
His mental equipment activated again.
A sharp buzz echoed in the back of his mind—an alert signal, one of several enchantments designed to protect him from invasive influence.
It flared. Twice. Then a dull, consistent pulse.
That wasn't a guess. He knew.
He met the last monster's gaze.
Michael moved, fluid and unrelenting.
He met the creature head-on, jamming the butt of his spear into its footwork and driving his knee up into its jaw.
Michael ended the last monster with a precise thrust to the heart, then pulled his spear free, letting the body crumple.
However, just before Michael could react, the two earrings on his ear suddenly emitted a blinding light.
He instantly recalled their description.
Siren's Echo Earrings.
They were powerful, rare-grade equipment.
When worn, they continuously dampened mental interference and redirected psychic pressure away from the wearer's core. They also passively enhanced mental clarity, boosting casting speed for spellcasters.
But most importantly—they held a one-time mental shield capable of blocking a direct high-tier psychic attack.
Once activated, the shield would take seven days to recharge.
They had cost him over a million to acquire.
That wasn't the problem now.
The real issue was simple.
The shield had just been triggered.
Which meant—whatever was watching him had just attacked.
It thought he'd lowered his guard.
Michael's blood ran cold at the realization—but before he could even process the fear, another sound slammed into his senses.
From the direction of the camp.
From deep in the forest.
Michael's head whipped toward one particular location—the source of the loudest roar. A direction where the air itself trembled, saturated with killing intent.
"…Is that where you're hiding?"
It wasn't just one creature. It was a pack. Dozens of monsters roaring in unison.
His mental gears spun rapidly.
Do the Siren's Echo Earrings have a backlash effect?
Still, Michael didn't freeze. His thoughts raced, but his hands moved faster.
He stretched out both arms.
With a pulse of energy, he summoned Prince from the Netherworld and Gale from the camp.
Two magic circles flared to life and his undead appeared from each.
As soon as they appeared, he issued a command.
"Prince. That direction. Attack every monster you see. If it's too dangerous—run."
He pointed straight toward the suspicious location—the epicenter of the roars.
Prince didn't hesitate. The undead wolf vanished in a burst of wind.
Meanwhile, Michael reached up, ripped the glowing earrings from his ears, and shoved them into his storage space.
Then, he replaced them.
Another pair of Siren's Echo Earrings.
Getting them into place was easy. His ability to harden or soften his body at will, included the skin around his ears.
By the time he finished, Gale had already lowered its body.
Michael leapt onto the undead griffin's back.
The undead immediately launched into the sky.
The same place Prince was headed.
And even before they were airborne, several system notifications had already flashed across Michael's vision.
> [Your undead 'Prince' has killed …]
In a blur, it didn't take long for Michael to reach his destination.
A massive clearing stretched out beneath him, bathed in moonlight.
Under the night sky, the scene looked almost surreal, like something out of a nightmare.
A large number of monsters filled the clearing, all of them Rank 2.
Not a single Rank 1 creature in sight.
Yet even so, currently, they were utterly helpless.
Because amidst them stood Prince—the extraordinary Rank creature.
The undead wolf moved like a phantom.
One moment, he was tearing through them, and the next, vanishing into shadows and reappearing deep within the horde, like he was teleporting.
Wherever Prince appeared, heads flew.
Black, thick vines burst from the earth with incredible speed, twisting and snapping like whips.
They coiled around bodies, crushing and slicing as they surged upward, leaving chaos in their wake.
Though these were Rank 2 monsters, they looked like sheep before a predator. None could resist.
But Michael wasn't watching Prince.
His gaze was fixed elsewhere.
In the center of the horde… stood something else.
His eyes narrowed as he hovered high above on Gale's back, the cold wind rustling his cloak.
There, surrounded by death and carnage, was a creature.
A body made entirely of writhing red flesh. Black tentacles slithered and twitched across its form, pulsing with some alien rhythm.
Michael took a deep breath, staring down at it.
His heart beat just a little faster.
In that moment, he couldn't help but recall what Mage Lian had once called the creature after knowing its origin.
He whispered the word under his breath.
It was surely a taboo.
Something that shouldn't exist.