"Is that all?"
Ethan muttered to himself. With a flick of his left hand, the small round shield vanished into his palm, and he drew a knight sword from his storage ring.
With the short spear in his right hand and the longsword in his left, his entire aura shifted again.
The short spear in his right hand plunged into the eye socket of a lunging Human-Faced Wolf, while the longsword in his left hand slashed horizontally, sending another wolf's head flying into the air. That distorted human face still held an expression of snarling aggression.
He yanked the short spear out and drove it into the throat of a third Human-Faced Wolf. Swinging the longsword back, he severed the front legs of a fourth; the wolf collapsed with a wretched howl, only for its skull to be crushed under his boot.
Blood sprayed, and severed limbs flew through the air.
Standing in the heart of the pack, Ethan swung his twin weapons with impenetrable speed.
The wolves swarming from all directions began to go mad.
They possessed a degree of intelligence, but that meager wit was now entirely consumed by fury. The mountain of their comrades' corpses and the overwhelming stench of blood turned their eyes crimson. Only one thought remained in their minds: kill this Human, tear him apart, and devour him.
One after another, they charged forward without regard for casualties, neither dodging nor weaving.
Ethan was more than happy to oblige.
He didn't need to chase or search; he simply stood his ground and waited for them to deliver themselves to his blade.
The short spear skewered one, the longsword cut down two more. He sidestepped a claw swipe and retaliated with a backhand slash that sheared off half of an ambusher's face. With a wide sweep of his short spear, blood erupted simultaneously from the throats of three Human-Faced Wolves.
He moved like a precision-engineered meat grinder; anything that drew near was shredded to pieces.
...
On the castle rooftop, Raymond and the other three stood frozen, their mouths agape and eyes wide with shock.
"How many years..." Raymond swallowed hard, his voice dry. "How many years have you all been at the academy?"
"Six years," Carl replied mechanically.
"Eight years," Leah's voice was equally stiff.
"Seven years," Cedric muttered, his lips twitching.
"I've been here eight," Raymond took a deep breath. "Do any of you have this kind of combat power?"
The three of them shook their heads in unison.
Carl gave a bitter smile. "Even if you gave me infinite magic stones to replenish my mana, I couldn't last this long. Mental power isn't free, you know? Releasing cantrips consumes mental power. How long has he been killing? Doesn't he run out of physical strength?"
"Could this kid be from the Flesh Modification branch?" Raymond narrowed his eyes.
"I don't know," Cole shook his head.
"Maybe he's focused on Body Alchemy?" Leah mused, frowning in thought.
"Do I look like I know?" Raymond rolled his eyes.
The four of them fell silent for a few breaths.
Carl scratched his head. "I say, are we just going to stand here and watch?"
"What else?" Leah stood with her arms crossed. "Go down and help? Before you can even finish chanting your wizardry—excuse me, your cantrip—those Human-Faced Wolves would already be on top of you. Are you planning to fight them hand-to-hand?"
"Our mission..." Cedric started, but trailed off.
"I think staying alive is more important than the mission."
Carl smacked his lips. "A twenty-magic-stone mission... looks like it's all going to Ethan at this rate."
"Forget the magic stones." Leah's gaze remained fixed on the figure rampaging through the mine, her voice tinged with deep thought. "I think befriending a genius is a much better investment."
"How do you know he's a genius?" Cedric raised an eyebrow.
"With this kind of combat power," Leah's lips curled into a smirk, "if he's not a genius, I'll wash my hair while doing a handstand."
Raymond didn't respond, only stared at the battlefield below, his brow furrowing slightly.
He felt like something was off.
It wasn't that Ethan was too strong—strength was strength, there was nothing to say about that. What confused him was how a freshman who had only condensed three runes and couldn't even cast a cantrip could possess such stamina.
Human-Faced Wolves were Knight-level. One or two were nothing, but there were hundreds here.
Hundreds of Human-Faced Wolves, each stronger than an ordinary Human Knight!!!
Ethan didn't know how long he had been killing; he only knew that the corpses around him were piling higher and higher. The ground beneath his feet was soaked in blood, turning the earth into a sticky mire.
The pile of wolf carcasses around him had grown quite tall.
Yet the Human-Faced Wolves kept charging.
They climbed over the bodies of their fallen kin, their limbs slipping in the pools of blood, yet they still lunged forward recklessly. Some tripped over corpses, only to scramble back up and continue the charge; others were knocked over by their own kind, struggling to their feet and biting at anything in reach.
The scent of blood had caused them to lose what little reason they possessed. Their minds were consumed by a single urge: to tear apart this blood-drenched Human.
The longsword in Ethan's left hand had become notched and dull.
This knight sword, forged from refined iron and brought from home, was not a Wizardry Tool after all. It couldn't withstand such high-intensity usage.
The blade was covered in nicks, and fine cracks had begun to appear in several places.
As another thick-skinned Human-Faced Wolf pounced, Ethan's sword struck its skull. The blade snapped instantly, and the broken half flew out, embedding itself in the eye socket of another wolf.
That wolf collapsed with a scream, its four legs twitching a few times before it went still.
Ethan casually tossed the broken hilt aside. With a flick of the short spear in his right hand, he impaled an ambusher lunging from the side. The spear tip entered through its temple and pierced through its brain; the Human-Faced Wolf went limp without even a whimper.
Now, only the short spear remained.
"Then let's try this."
Ethan stowed the short spear.
His right hand shot out, grabbing the front leg of a lunging wolf, while his left hand clamped onto its neck. With a surge of strength in his arms, he swung the hundred-kilogram beast into the air.
Bang!
The wolf slammed into another lunging comrade. The sound of two distorted human faces colliding, accompanied by the crack of shattering bones and agonized howls, exploded in the air.
Ethan gripped the half-dead Human-Faced Wolf and swung it like a massive meat hammer, sweeping it in all directions.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
One Human-Faced Wolf after another was sent flying.
The wolf corpse was quickly reduced to a bloody pulp, its skeletal frame shattered. Ethan tossed it aside and grabbed another.
He became a living meat grinder. Wherever he passed, the wolf pack fell like wheat before a scythe.
They were either left with crushed skulls or snapped spines; occasionally, some were flung against the stone walls, turning instantly into heaps of mangled flesh.
The stench of blood was sickeningly thick. A thin layer of blood had pooled on the ground, making every step slick and greasy.
Ethan found himself swinging with increasing ease, even beginning to enjoy this display of pure, crushing power.
With every strike, he could feel the sensation of bones shattering beneath his grip. That feedback brought him an indescribable sense of catharsis.
"Come on!"
He let out a low growl, grabbed a fourth Human-Faced Wolf, and hurled it into the densest part of the pack.
The wolf corpse traced an arc through the air, knocking over five or six unlucky wretches who couldn't dodge in time. A chorus of screams erupted.
Ethan was about to charge forward to continue when he suddenly realized something was wrong.
No more wolves were lunging at him.
He stood in place, drenched in blood, his chest heaving as his gaze swept over the surroundings.
Only then did he notice that the ground beneath him was entirely covered in corpses.
Layer upon layer they lay—some still twitching, others completely still. Blood converged into small streams, flowing down the gentle slope of the mine and collecting in dark red puddles in the hollows.
As far as his eyes could see, there were only the corpses of Human-Faced Wolves.
"Uh, how many did I kill just now?"
Rate on N.U.
