"We should ambush them on my count of three."
Zyon’s voice was low but steady as he turned toward Freya and Lilith. Both girls straightened unconsciously.
Before them, a herd of Doomsday Camels trudged across the dunes. Each step was eerily graceful for such hulking beasts, their skins shimmering, their bodies painted with illusions of shifting horizons and clouds. Their abyssal eyes were fixed forward.
It was as if chunks of the desert sky had grown legs and decided to wander the wastelands.
Earlier, they had spent their time bickering and circling over whether to focus on Deathworms or not, but eventually, they’d chosen to abandon the idea.
Deathworms, for all their raw terror, were solitary monsters. Fighting them honed individual combat skill, yes, but it did nothing for teamwork.
Doomsday Camels, on the other hand, thrived in packs. Slightly weaker on paper than a Deathworm, but with a terrifying synergy when herding together.
Their coordination gave them an edge few expected. And facing such an opponent would force Zyon and group to sharpen their ability to fight as one.
Even the experience points were worth it. Individually, the camels offered less, but their numbers made up the difference. Hunting them was practical, calculated, and not just because Lilith had whined about boredom.
Freya and Lilith exchanged a knowing look. Then they nodded together, eyes firm. That was all Zyon needed.
He tilted his chin upward, eyes locking briefly with Art. The man was crouched on a higher dune, surveying the wider battlefield. If another monster decided to third-party them, Art would be the one to catch it first.
For the briefest instant, their gazes clashed. No words were needed. Art’s faint nod said everything: I’ll cover you. Go.
"Ok..." Zyon exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. His hand tightened on his weapon. "Now in three... two... one—attack!!"
The command thundered out of his chest, and his body exploded forward like a released bowstring. Sand sprayed beneath his boots as he charged headlong toward the herd.
The Doomsday Camels froze. Their heads lifted in eerie unison. The illusionary skies across their bodies shifted unnaturally, a horizon melting into another.
Then—those abyssal eyes landed on him.
For a heartbeat, it was as if time itself had stilled. Looking into that abyss was madness, the kind that could strip the willpower from a man’s soul. Zyon felt it clawing at him. He forced his gaze away instantly, jaw clenched.
The others followed suit. Nobody in their right mind would stare into that darkness for long. To meet the gaze of a Doomsday Camel was not bravery—it was suicide.
Lilith’s voice cracked through the tension. Her right arm ignited with mana, flames coiling and swirling violently before snapping together into the shape of a blazing lance.
She launched it forward with a grunt, the lance whistling through the air before bursting against the herd in a shower of fire and smoke.
The herd reacted at once. Most stood their ground, grouped tightly, bracing against the blast. But a handful panicked, breaking formation and trying to flee from the chaos.
Freya’s eyes hardened. Her hands lifted, mana rippling out from her body like invisible waves. "[Pause]!"
Her ability pulsed into the fleeing camels. For an instant, their limbs stuttered. The mighty beasts staggered mid-stride, knees buckling as sluggishness flooded their bodies. Sand splashed beneath them as they faltered.
But it lasted only seconds. The effect was shallow, more a stumble than a true stop. The rank difference between them was glaring, Freya at Rank ★★★ while the camels stood at Rank ★★★★★. Her power was like tugging at a raging bull with a child’s rope—visible, but far from binding.
Her teeth clenched as she held it for as long as she could, sweat already beading her forehead. She had bought them moments, nothing more.
They staggered, their hulking bodies shaking off Freya’s brief restraint. Muscles tensed beneath their rippling mirage-like hides, and the Doomsday Camels began to storm away, hooves pounding against the sand like thunder.
Yet... they didn’t get far.
Because another chain coiled around them. Binding them in their illusionary cage.
Any Doomsday Camel that tried to break free met the same fate. One by one, their massive frames were cleaved open, split clean down the middle as if their bodies were nothing more than brittle parchment. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh and the sound of tearing hide.
It was his chains... No, they weren’t chains anymore. They had evolved. [Purgatory Chains].
These weren’t simple links of steel infused with fire. They were something else now. The flames of purgatory clung to them, unholy and ceaseless, burning not only flesh but essence. They writhed like living serpents in Art’s grip, shifting form with terrifying fluidity.
Once, they had been only chains. Now, they could be anything. Blades, spears, shackles, even pure flame itself.
And with his interference, the herd was trapped. Their desperate attempts to scatter were useless, every path cut off. They were corralled, forced into a tightening circle, an illusionary cage.
Lilith moved first. She didn’t hesitate, hesitation against creatures like these was suicide. Her mana surged, flooding her veins until her body thrummed with unnatural strength. The flame lance in her grip roared to life, incandescent, a pillar of searing fire condensed into a weapon.
With a grunt, she lunged. Every ounce of her being was behind that thrust, her entire form streamlined into motion. The flaming lance slammed into the nearest camel’s hump with the force capable of breaking houses.
The sound wasn’t flesh. It was metal.
Lilith’s body recoiled from the shock. The flames screeched against that impossible hide, sparks flying as though she had struck a steel rod instead of living flesh. Her teeth clenched as the backlash rattled through her arms.
"Tsk—!" She clicked her tongue, instantly pulling back. Sand sprayed beneath her feet as she retreated in quick bursts, widening the distance before the creatures could retaliate.
But when she glanced at her lance her eyes widened.
Thin, jagged fissures marred the surface of her flaming spear. The incorporeal weapon, born purely of fire, was splintering as though it were fragile glass.
Her pupils dilated. "These bastards... they can harm the incorporeal? What kind of bullshit is that!?"
"Don’t let your thoughts wander."
Art’s voice cut down from above, calm. His figure hung against the backdrop of the burning sky, chains writhing lazily around him, though every movement carried lethal precision.
"The monsters of this world have never played fair. They’ll twist logic, break rules, and tear sanity apart. Don’t waste yourself trying to understand them. Just do one thing, damage them. As much as you can. That’s all that matters."
Art wasn’t being cruel. He was being deliberate. This fight wasn’t just about killing monsters. He was forcing them to adapt, to sharpen, to bleed and grow.
Because he knew what loomed ahead. The rifts, the unknown horrors beyond, the otherworlders whose strength and intentions were a mystery. He couldn’t predict who would lead the three worlds, nor did he care.
All Art cared about was this: the safety of his friends.
And for that, they had to grow strong enough to stand without him. Babysitting them wasn’t an option.
He wouldn’t always be there to bind their enemies.
The earth itself shook as Zyon made his move. Until now, he had been holding the herd back, corralling them with sheer presence, keeping their formation from breaking. But that was no longer enough. His aura shifted, no longer the defensive wall of a shepherd.
Now, he was the predator.
Zyon burst forward, sand exploding beneath his charge. Zyon’s fist swung in a wide, merciless arc. The air cracked around his knuckles, a sonic pressure tearing forward before his strike even landed.
The impact detonated like thunder. His fist slammed into the Doomsday Camel’s shimmering hide, and the beast was launched like a cannonball. Its entire massive frame went flying, skidding across the sand in a brutal straight line, carving a trench as it crashed and tumbled.
Zyon didn’t even spare it a glance. He didn’t care whether it lived or died. His eyes were already locked on the rest of the herd.
And those beasts had learned.
They weren’t charging blindly anymore. Their herd had tightened, bodies pressing together. Their abyssal eyes focused on him, unblinking, trying to peer through the blazing aura that cloaked his form.
But Zyon wasn’t about to give them the chance.
His muscles coiled, mana surging through his veins like wildfire, and in the blink of an eye his body blurred. A flash. One moment he was there, the next he was already upon the next victim.
His fist crashed into its skull.
The camel’s face imploded under the sheer force, bone and hide bursting outward in a spray of gore. The sound was wet, disgusting, like fruit being smashed under a hammer. The beast collapsed where it stood, its massive frame crumpling with its head reduced to pulp.
Blood splattered in every direction. Warm droplets rained down across Zyon’s face, his arms, soaking into his clothes.
But when the taste hit his tongue, when a thick chunk of meat and sinew landed against his lips, slipped between his teeth, his expression soured instantly.
He spat hard onto the sand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his face twisted with disgust. The copper tang clung to his tongue, vile and rancid. He spat again, more violently this time, until a red streak marked the ground at his feet.
"Ugh," he muttered under his breath, scowling. "Disgusting."
The herd shifted uneasily, their dark eyes flashing. They were perceptive enough to know that despite his momentary disgust, his intent hadn’t wavered in the slightest.
Zyon rolled his shoulders. The sand beneath his feet cracked and sank under the weight of his presence alone.