In the middle of the chaos, my body reacts by choosing the best possible option among the few available. Being surrounded by monsters leaves me with limited movement options; sometimes I have to float or teleport just to avoid being bombarded by claws, fangs, or magical attacks.

  I’ve taken fewer injuries than expected. The electrical serpents combined with my ice armor are doing their job perfectly. They’re strong enough to withstand any Grade 3 attack; only the strongest can break through them. Even so, they buy me the time I need to defend myself with my swords or dodge properly.

  I’m not avoiding every attack either. Sometimes I choose to take a hit and kill the attacker instead. There are moments when I prefer to use life mana to heal and maintain a good position. Moving among corpses, viscera, and bones complicates things for both sides—the monsters and me.

  Five minutes into the chaos, I feel like I’ve killed at least a thousand monsters. It’s easy when most of them want to kill you and actively charge at you. There are so many packed together that it doesn’t matter if I attack at range with Joyeuse—every strike hits something and kills it.

  Something feels off. These monsters feel a bit… stupid. Grade 3 monsters should be intelligent enough to recognize the difference in strength between them and me after I’ve slaughtered so many. I should’ve encountered at least a few capable of speech by now. Only a handful have avoided me, and they didn’t do so out of fear—it felt more like they hadn’t even noticed me.

  All of this is strange. The sensation is uncomfortable, and now I can feel part of my body bristling just thinking about how idiotic the monsters around me are acting.

  Is it because they came from a dungeon? From my experience, the dumbest monsters usually originate from one. They’re always more aggressive and suicidal. Some are intelligent enough to speak, but in general they only think about annihilating any human in front of them.

  I can’t afford to dwell on this. Just a few seconds of distraction cost me injuries to my ribs, legs, and arms—I don’t even have half a second to spare for unrelated thoughts.

  I move, annihilating everything in my path. More than twenty swords dance around me, cleaving and piercing every monster they touch. My Thundersnow Fangs swing left and right, each movement claiming the lives of those closest to me. I don’t even need to strike vital points—my death and ice mana have grown powerful enough to kill them regardless.

  Minutes continue to pass, and I remain in the middle of this sea of monsters. Every movement brings death and destruction. The ability I once considered the most useless in my arsenal now shines like the midday sun—every electrical serpent is performing flawlessly in both offense and defense.

  Huh? I’m still surrounded, but something feels different. Earlier my Personal World was overflowing; now it’s reduced to a small circle, and the others are ignoring me. What happened? Why am I no longer their target? I’ve killed more than two thousand by my estimates—I’ve significantly reduced their numbers.

  I release gravity, momentarily paralyzing the monsters around me, and use that opening to fly upward. I need to understand what’s going on. Something is wrong, and it’s bothering me. I haven’t seen a single Grade 4 monster yet—I should’ve encountered at least one after ten minutes.

  The sea of monsters below is immense. I can see massive gaps among the leading wave, all caused by the deaths of their comrades. I turn my gaze farther back and see thousands upon thousands moving toward my territory, forming a black tide of death and destruction.

  I reinforce my vision with mana, allowing me to see more clearly at a distance. There must be between ten and twelve thousand monsters—an absurd number. At least I’ve already dealt with roughly twenty percent of the Grade 3s. It’s time to find my real targets.

  I accelerate, searching for Grade 4 monsters. In the middle of the black tide, I can’t sense any—until I reach near the rear and find them all gathered in one place. That alone makes the situation even stranger. Why are so many Grade 4s clustered at the back? Why aren’t they fighting among themselves?

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  They’re usually highly territorial—especially when they originate from the same dungeon. Now that I have a moment of clarity, I notice something else: they all look… empty. As if they don’t have thoughts of their own, as if their only purpose is to march in one direction—toward my territory.

  Thinking about it, none of them have dispersed. They’re all following the same path. Most should’ve split off and taken different routes. The Grade 4s look at me briefly, their eyes hollow. Is someone—or something—controlling them? The more I think about it, the more real it feels.

  “Don’t get distracted.” I scold myself. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been brainwashed or not. I need to kill them regardless. I don’t care if they’re puppets. I do a quick count within my perception sphere—just over two hundred. Fewer than I expected.

  All of them focus on me at once, releasing their bloodlust in my direction. It’s… pathetic. Empty and shallow. I release part of my Imra along with my own bloodlust and counter it easily. Enduring Lucio’s bloodlust multiple times has prepared me for this.

  I gradually push my abilities to their limit as I descend. I can’t relax or lose focus—not even for a moment. Grade 4 monsters are entirely different. One mistake could cost me my life. Their ability to pierce my defenses is high, and their vitality is a serious problem.

  The only upside to this dangerous situation is that all the Grade 4s are focused on me. None have advanced toward the territory, and the Grade 3s won’t interfere. I’ll have freedom of movement across the battlefield without being attacked from all sides.

  I don’t consider myself invincible enough to fight all of them at once. I’ll rely on hit-and-run tactics, reducing their numbers one by one. At most, I can handle four or five simultaneously—anything more is courting death.

  Fully prepared, I launch every Joyeuse at my disposal. All my constructs fly toward the group. If I manage to kill even one, that’s enough. My true goal is to scatter them and fight under favorable conditions.

  The tactic works only partially. Most of the swords are destroyed or repelled by the stronger monsters’ abilities, but I manage to isolate a small group on the right flank. I teleport and appear beside a Grade 4 resembling a rhinoceros, surrounded by eight others—half of them dozens of meters away.

  Both swords slash horizontally. The rhinoceros monster doesn’t even have time to react. Two massive gashes tear open its side. I manage one more swing before moving again and retreating. Distances of dozens of meters are crossed instantly here—I can’t stay still.

  Without hesitation, I construct two dozen ice swords around me. Gravity slams outward, buying me time to escape. A chameleon-like monster appears behind me, invisible to both sight and mana. I sensed it only through my Personal World.

  Its tongue shoots toward the back of my head. With a slight movement, I dodge and sever it. A scream echoes dozens of meters away. I dash toward its position—its camouflage is useless. I don’t need my eyes to find it. I reach it a second later.

  I use my ice swords to restrain the others for half a second. The chameleon is weaker than it looks. Its defenses are low, and by the third strike I’ve decapitated it. Its ability to hide from mana senses and turn invisible must be what qualifies it as a Grade 4.

  The other monsters catch up. I deliberately create openings for them to advance. My ice swords serve mostly as distractions, rebuilt whenever they’re destroyed, buying me precious time.

  A rabbit-like monster with three horns and massive claws leaps at me. It’s roughly human-sized. I shift just enough to let its largest horn impale my arm. That same arm drives my sword into its skull, while my other blade severs its head.

  I throw the sword from my good arm at a goblin-like monster, yank the horn free, and heal the wound instantly. I don’t care if I lose my Thundersnow Fangs—one call of my will and they return, no matter where they are.

  I annihilate two more monsters attempting to strike from behind, their claws stopping a centimeter from my head. Their bodies are built for fast, lethal attacks. My prison holds them effortlessly—my Banner, the foundation of the skill, is nearing Rank 2, and my Imra is far stronger now. I can restrain them as long as I want.

  Two ice swords pierce each of their heads. Their bodies collapse with dull thuds. I never stop moving, shifting constantly. I twist to dodge ice and fire constructs, repositioning with gravity-assisted bursts.

  My senses scream danger. I move—and a beam of mana instantly disintegrates my arm. That attack pierced all my defenses. Had I remained in place, my entire torso would’ve been vaporized. No—there’s Imra involved.

  I focus on the source and see an ogre-like monster. The only difference is its futuristic-looking arm. Was that beam fired from it? I sense mana accumulating slowly in that arm. That confirms it—its weakness is the recharge time. I stop paying it attention for now, only staying alert for when it finishes charging.

  Beside it stand four humanoid monsters with purple skin, small horns, pointed ears, and cat-like eyes. These aren’t stupid. They’re laughing. When I heal my arm and evade their next attacks, I see their expressions shift.

  These bastards are aware. A burning rage boils deep within my chest. These pieces of trash must know what this stampede is. I swear to massacre them all—leaving only one alive for interrogation. It’s time to begin the slaughter.