The elite werewolves quickly asserted dominance over the battlefield, leaving mangled beast corpses and skeletal fragments in their wake as they stabilized their lines against the initial shock of the ambush.
Grakul, the ogre chieftain, roared with a frantic, desperate energy. ''Stand fast! Form a wall! We cannot allow the lord's legions to fall!'' He channeled his Aether into defensive spells, his hands glowing as he deflected incoming strikes that would have pulverized his kin.
The ogres, driven by a primal fear of Leo that outweighed their fear of death, threw themselves into the path of the werewolves, trading their blood for a sliver of their master's favor.
A rare-grade werewolf sneered at the approaching ogres, his lip curling to reveal jagged yellow teeth. ''Filthy carrion,'' he hissed. His claws shimmered with a lunar silver light. ''Quickswipe!'' With a violent, effortless arc, he unleashed a shockwave that sent two ogres tumbling through the mud, their chests shredded.
As he stepped forward to deliver the killing blow, a concentrated bolt of magical energy hissed through the rain. ''Ghhh!'' The werewolf crossed his forearms, the impact forcing him back several meters as he growled in annoyance.
''Face a real opponent, you mangy dog!'' Grakul bellowed, his face twisted in a mask of defiance.
The werewolf bared his fangs, his eyes glowing with a feral promise. ''I shall start by devouring your heart, pig.'' But as he prepared to sprint, a suffocating weight descended from the cliffs above.
HUM HUM
The combatants froze. The mindless monsters and the disciplined wolves alike felt their hearts stutter under a tidal wave of sheer presence.
Sylvia stood atop the ridge, her silhouette framed by the lightning-streaked sky, her archers leveled and ready.
Above her, Aurella hovered, her wings beating with a slow, rhythmic power that radiated divine authority. She looked down at the mud-caked battlefield with the cold, detached disdain of a goddess observing insects.
BOOMM!!
Before the werewolves could even process the arrival of the Elven Lord, a heavy, metallic boom echoed through the camp.
Malphas, the knight in crimson plate, had leaped from the ridge. He landed in the center of the fray with an indifferent poise, the earth cracking beneath his greaves as he stood with his sword sheathed, as if the battle around him was not worth the effort of drawing steel.
One elite werewolf, gritting his teeth at the insult, lunged forward with a speed that left a blur in the rain. ''I do not know who you are, but you will die for your arrogance!''
He lunged, his speed blurring through the rain.
Malphas moved only when the claws were inches from his visor.
In a motion too fast to follow, his hand shot out and closed around the werewolf's throat mid-air.
CRUNCH
The sound of vertebrae snapping echoed across the stunned camp.
Malphas didn't draw his blade. He tightened his grip until the rare-grade's eyes bulged and life fled its body. Then he tossed the corpse aside like discarded grain.
Before the remaining elites could react, a spear crackling with terrifying lightning tore through the air, impaling another where he stood.
'Damn, so badass,' Leo thought, watching from his vantage point. He didn't stay idle. While the werewolves were distracted by Malphas's entrance, Leo and Vespar moved like twin shadows through the tall grass.
''Three o'clock, master,'' Vespar whispered, her voice barely a ripple in the wind.
Leo nodded.
Void Flicker.
He appeared behind a rare-grade spearman, rallying the commons. Venom Fang plunged into the creature's back, piercing straight through the heart. The wolf collapsed without a sound.
At the same instant, Vespar's daggers danced, two throats opening in crimson silence.
The camp was dissolving. The common grade werewolves were being torn apart by Sylvia's monster wave, and the elites were being picked off one by one.
Grakul let out a shaky breath, watching Malphas walk toward the center of the camp with terrifying calmness. ''The Great Lord... his servants are truly horrifying,'' the ogre muttered, his respect for Leo turning into a deep-seated fear.
High above, Sylvia watched the progress with a satisfied hum. ''Your knight is quite the showman, Leo. But look, the main event is about to begin.''
With Malphas and Aurella present, the battlefield became a graveyard. Only two guards remained, legs trembling under crushing pressure, yet stubbornly holding their posts.
The ground began to thrum with a heavy, rhythmic beat- not from the rain, but from the cavern at the end of the camp. A low growl, deep enough to vibrate in Leo's chest, rolled out of the darkness.
The two armored guards at the entrance suddenly stepped aside, bowing their heads in submission. A massive silhouette emerged, nearly three meters tall and rippling with muscles that looked like corded steel. His fur was a dark, charcoal gray, and he wore a mantle made from the hides of several different monsters. In his right hand, he dragged a massive, serrated stone axe.
He lifted it onto his shoulder and grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from two different lords?"
Leo frowned. The werewolf's casual tone felt wrong. No rage. No desperation.
Something was off.
"Don't you think you're being far too ignorant," Sylvia said as she stepped beside Leo, her carefree expression gone, "when standing before forces that can erase your existence?"
The epic-grade werewolf laughed, baring his fangs. "Yes… Though these two behind me are weaker by a level, they stand at the same tier."
His grin widened. "But that doesn't mean we're on the same level."
Leo sent a mental command instantly.' Malphas Now.'
WHSSS!
A red streak tore through the rain.
Malphas appeared before the werewolf boss, blade flashing free as he brought it down in a brutal arc.
"Executioner's Swing."
The skill ignored armor, amplifying raw destruction. Blood-red force crashed downward.
The werewolf's eyes sharpened. He slammed his axe into the ground.
An earthen wall erupted before him, shattering under the impact, but the force still sent him skidding backward through the mud.
"Tch," he hissed, then smirked. "You're impatient, knight."
His eyes gleamed. "But you underestimated me."
Aurella's expression darkened. She scanned the surroundings, her wings fluttering with a force that sent her diving toward Sylvia.
Malphas also sensed a new signature near Leo. 'No...'
The werewolf boss chuckled. "Too late."
Before Leo could blink, a second presence tore into existence.
An epic-grade werewolf, its fur wreathed in murky earth-aspected aura, materialized directly before them. In the same instant, it leapt, claws drawn back, aimed straight for Leo's heart.
Aurella reached them first, dragging Sylvia away.
Malphas was a step too slow.
Leo's body refused to respond. Pressure crushed him in place, his limbs locked under the weight of an epic-grade beast.
'I can't block this.' His mind raced with cold clarity. 'I can't survive this.'
Leo's eyes were locked on the descending claws. He didn't blink. Having witnessed Malphas's overwhelming power since the beginning, he possessed a grimly accurate understanding of the hierarchy of strength in Origin. It didn't matter that he was a Primordial; at his current level, a direct, point-blank strike from a D-rank Epic beast was a 100% certainty of death.
His enchanted coat strained, its defensive runes flaring for a fraction of a second to absorb the initial momentum, but the werewolf's claw was a hot knife through silk. It tore through the artifact's protection and the layers of clothing beneath, the cold steel of the nail pressing against his skin.
Just as the point began to sink into his chest, the mythical chain around his neck erupted in a blinding, crimson light.
The world shattered into silence.
Within a thousand-meter radius, reality was washed in a monochromatic crimson hue.
The frantic motion of the battlefield was replaced by a ghostly stillness. Malphas was a statue of desperate loyalty, frozen mere steps away. Sylvia was caught in a moment of suspended terror, her hair and cloak locked in the air. Even the falling raindrops hung like glass beads in the red-tinted sky.
Leo stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the stinging heat of a shallow puncture. He was alive, but the world around him was dead. His gaze dropped to the chain; it had unlinked itself and was now floating at eye level, pulsing like a slow-beating heart.
''You are truly a careless one, child,'' a voice murmured. It was old, heavy with the weight of eons, yet distinctly feminine. It didn't vibrate through the air, but echoed directly within the chambers of his mind.
***
Progenitor's Chain
Type: Relic (Active / Passive)
Grade: Mythic (Growth-Type)
Description: A blood-bound chain linked to your lineage core. Grants dominance over blood without physical feeding.
Passive Effects: Automatically extracts Sanguine Essence (SE) from defeated enemies
Active Effects:
Manipulate blood within a radius
Radius and precision scale with mental strength
Can immobilize, drain, or disrupt blood flow
Growth Trait: Blood control radius expands with mental strength
Note: The Relic retains fragments of memory from its previous bearers.