The sky above Kesseln twisted from soft blue to a dust-choked orange. A storm brewed—not of wind and rain, but of fang and claw.
A rumble shook the earth.
Then came the roar.
It tore through the air like a crack of thunder, shaking the very bones of the town. From the hills and forest ridges, they came—hundreds of monsters, eyes glowing, limbs pounding the dirt in a synchronized march of doom. The first wave crashed against the outer barricades like a tidal wave of flesh and fury.
Wood shattered.
Steel bent.
Men screamed.
The frontlines fell in minutes. Soldiers broke formation. Arrows flew. Orders were barked, then drowned out by blood and terror.
And through that chaos… walked Ashen.
No armor. No formation. No fear.
Just a plain iron longsword strapped to his back, a sturdy scabbard at his hip, and a pair of eyes that didn't flinch as death closed in.
He stepped through the dust-filled streets, moving past guards who had already accepted their fate.
A Razorhound burst through the alley beside him—fast, drooling, teeth bared.
Ashen shifted one foot.
Drew his sword.
One clean motion.
The beast's head rolled before its body registered the strike.
[+12 XP]
Another came.
Then three more.
Ashen didn't react. He calculated.
Slash. Twist. Sidestep. Thrust.
Their claws barely grazed his robes. His blade found joints, necks, soft ribs between armored bone. Blood spattered, but never lingered.
[+9 XP]
[+10 XP]
[+14 XP]
He was no longer defending.
He was grinding.
The ground beneath him was littered with twitching corpses.
His sword gleamed—not with polish, but use.
Around him, chaos consumed the town. People screamed. Children were dragged away by desperate hands. Monsters charged down alleyways. The town square became a feeding ground.
And Ashen?
He didn't stop walking.
"No form," he muttered. "No memory… but the body remembers what the mind forgets."
Two Ironboars barreled toward him—beasts the size of carriages, tusks sharp enough to gut a man in one charge.
Ashen didn't retreat.
He ran toward them.
The first charged. He slid beneath it, cutting deep into its underbelly as its momentum carried it past him. The second roared and turned to follow, but Ashen was already moving—climbing its back like a specter, then driving his blade straight through its skull.
[+30 XP]
[Level Up: 3]
[You have gained 2 Attribute Points]
He landed lightly beside the corpses, breath calm.
A brief pause.
Then—
He plunged into the next group of monsters like a knife into flesh.
The civilians began to notice. Not his face—but the absence of death around him.
Where he walked, monsters died.
Guards who were moments from being slaughtered found salvation in his wake. He never looked at them. Never acknowledged their gasps of awe.
Ashen didn't fight to save them. He fought to sharpen.
He carved through a pack of Winged Shrikes mid-dive, cutting them from the sky in a blur. Their blood sprayed like ink, their wings falling at his feet.
[+18 XP]
[+19 XP]
"This body," he murmured, "was dull when I woke. But now…"
Another Razorhound lunged.
He dodged.
Slit its throat.
Kicked its corpse into the next one.
[+12 XP]
[Level Up: 4]
[You have gained 2 Attribute Points]
He didn't open the stat menu. Not yet.
Every kill was a step. Every motion—measured. Refined. Efficient.
He was no longer just surviving the beast tide.
He was training inside it.
Near the east gate, a commander watched him with shaking hands.
"Who... what is he?" the man muttered, voice dry.
One of the younger guards, face pale, whispered, "He's not one of ours."
"No… he's something else entirely."
Ashen walked through the flames of the bakery now burning behind him. Embers rose around him like spirits, dancing in his wake. His blade dripped, but his hands were still.
He glanced at the street ahead. It was painted in blood, lined with fallen beasts—and yet more came.
Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Claws. Horns. Fangs.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Then… smiled.
Not out of arrogance.
But purpose.
He dashed into the next swarm like a falling star. His sword sang. Limbs flew. Blood soaked the cobblestones. Each motion smoother than the last.
Every kill—sharpening him.
[+13 XP]
[+15 XP]
[+17 XP]
[Level Up: 5]
[You have gained 2 Attribute Points]
Still, he didn't stop.
[You have unspent Attribute Points: 10]
He didn't care.
Not yet.
Not until his body gave out. Not until he was exhausted, mentally and physically.
Then, the air changed.
The ground vibrated.
A shadow loomed.
Ashen turned.
From the far end of the road emerged a beast unlike the others. It stood tall—seven meters at least. Its fur was spiked with bone plates. Its four arms dragged clubs made of tree trunks and scrap metal. Its face was hidden behind a mask of bone, but its eyes glowed with a monstrous hunger.
Tier 2 – Howler Monarch.
It stepped into the ruined town, its presence crushing. Soldiers who had been holding the line dropped their weapons and ran. Screams erupted.
The beast let out a roar—not of anger, but domination.
Civilians collapsed from the sheer pressure. Magic barriers cracked. The very air vibrated.
But Ashen…
He stepped forward.
His sword, still stained with blood, dragged lightly across the ground.
His expression? Calm. Focused.
[New Quest Unlocked: Boss Subjugation – Tier 2 Beast]
[Bonus EXP Reward: 500 XP]
[Warning: Recommended Level – 6+]
He exhaled.
"Good," he said, voice low.
"Let's see what it takes to level again."