A man stood at the front—
wearing a long, glossy black coat,
his chestnut hair tied in a precise ponytail.
His eyes, narrow and keen, scanned every detail.
Nothing escaped his gaze.
A long sword with a plain black hilt—no ornament, only function—
cut smoothly through the towering roots that blocked the path,
opening a clear way forward.
Swoosh…
He glanced back.
Ten figures stood behind him—
all clad in full gear,
their faces concealed by featureless masks.
Each of them bore a unique weapon—longbows, swords, daggers, even custom-built bombs.
They moved like one—trained, lethal, prepared.
And all served him.
His voice, cold and commanding, cracked the air.
"We don't have much time. Clear the path."
The ten masked warriors grinned.
A strange joy surged through them—
as if a long-awaited release had arrived.
A frenzy of pure thrill—
like sipping madness from a silver goblet.
They charged into the massive roots,
cutting and slashing like possessed beasts.
"Hahaha… More! I want to crush them deeper!"
"Hey! Let's see who reaches the end first!"
Crack! Swoosh! Clang!
Even nature recoiled from their madness.
The giant roots trembled,
raising tendrils in erratic defense—
devouring each other in desperation,
offering the weak to birth the strong.
But even that couldn't escape the man's eyes.
He smirked.
"Ha… This is getting interesting.
I wonder if your 'strongest' can even scratch me."
He waited—
anticipating the final form.
His smile whispered a pact with death.
Then it rose.
A colossal tendril burst forth—
like an enormous worm with a circular mouth,
lined with countless dagger-sharp teeth.
It tore through everything in its path.
The man's eyes gleamed.
"Perfect. Now we have a clean path—
we just need to remove that obstacle.
Move, now. The party won't last forever."
He summoned his troops forward.
Time to test their refined brutality.
Five moved ahead.
Five backed them from behind.
The worm roared.
Grooaarhhh…
Then spat a viscous, toxic substance—
a rotting green slime boiling with blisters.
The stench of mold and decay flooded the air.
Wherever it splashed, roots melted slowly.
This was going to be a brutal battle.
The vanguard struck—
but the worm's skin was hardened like steel.
Clang… Clang…
Frustration crept in.
But they had only used a fraction of their power.
Now they awakened life-force energy—
and channeled it into their weapons.
Finally—
a gash was carved into the worm's hide.
It was shallow—
but it bled.
They laughed—eyes glazed with bloodlust—
and charged again.
Slashing and tearing with pure chaos.
The worm shrieked in agony.
Screeeeech…
The support squad joined—
a one-sided slaughter.
Madmen versus a monstrous force.
Their laughter mingled with the creature's screams—
creating a twisted symphony of horror
that made the forest tremble.
The man watched calmly from behind.
A glittering smile crept across his lips.
He was pleased.
"Good. But they still need refinement."
When the worm finally died,
its leaking toxins flooded the whole path,
burning surrounding roots on contact.
Yet there was no fear—no regret.
The man stepped forward.
All ten knelt in respect.
He drew his sheathed sword—
stepped into stance,
and delivered one clean slash.
Swoosh—
The energy
sliced the air like a hurricane blade.
Dust rose—
the worm's carcass was shredded and hurled aside.
The path ahead was clear.