Warren was feeling dizzy.

It had been more than four hours since he was dragged into this never-ending battle.

He had arrived at the small village merely as backup for the officials, meant to serve as the second line of defense alongside the other members of his group.

However, four hours ago, something had changed.

A ranked Devil appeared, and by the time it was finally annihilated, all four official members had fallen to the ground as well—alive, but completely incapacitated.

Yet Devils continued to pour out of the Death Sink, forcing Warren to step forward as part of the response team.

There were three major lanes leading to the main city, and they had to secure those routes at all costs.

If even one lane was left unchecked, the Devils would spill into the streets and reach the civilians in no time.

Warren couldn't allow that to happen, not when this was the first real mission he had ever undertaken.

However, now, after fighting monsters for hours, he was losing hope.

DOOOOM

Raising his hand, he sent a fireball hurling toward a group of small, rabid Devils charging at him.

They were instantly burned to ashes and fell still. However, the mage didn't stop there. Stopping was never an option. He raised both his hands.

"Aaaaaahh!"

Gathering Aether, he summoned a massive orb above his head, heat coiling around him like a shield, the spell's oppressive presence alerting the approaching monsters.

The warning did nothing to save them. Warren brought his arms down, and the orb shot across the terrain like a cannonball.

The ground detonated. Devils in its path were obliterated, reduced to torn limbs and vaporized cores. Shockwaves flung bodies apart, smashing them into walls and the surface alike. Those not killed instantly were incinerated by the trailing heat, their howls cut short as flames swallowed them whole.

When the blast finally passed, nothing stood in its wake—only scorched land, drifting embers, and the silent remains of what had once been a horde.

Warren's arms fell to his sides lifelessly, his eyes bloodshot and chest heaving, every breath scraping through his lungs like broken glass.

He had never used so many spells in such a short span, his Aether reserves screaming as if they were being wrung dry from the inside.

His legs shook, muscles twitching uncontrollably, his body wobbling as nausea and exhaustion blurred his vision, but he couldn't allow himself to fall now. Falling meant death.

He could hear the cries of his team members—ragged, panicked, abruptly cut short. As he turned, his heart sank into his stomach. Tia had already been captured, a horde of Devils swarming over her, claws sinking into her body, teeth tearing through flesh, her screams drowned beneath snarls as they devoured her alive.

"Tia…" His voice came out hollow, so faint it didn't even seem to exist, swallowed by the chaos before it could reach his own ears.

He wanted to raise his hand and protect her, wanted to cast even a single spell, anything at all. She was a precious team member, someone who had fought beside him, trusted him.

But his body refused to respond.

There was no backup, no reinforcements coming, no voice guiding them through the carnage. They had been abandoned here, left as prey to be hunted down and torn apart by Devils.

The realization crushed him, heavier than despair, heavier than fear—hitting harder than the boar-like Devil that slammed into his chest, cracking the air and sending him staggering backward.

Thud

He lost his balance and fell onto his back, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs as his gaze dimmed, the sky above blurring while the sounds of battle slowly began to fade.

However, just as his consciousness was about to slip away, a shadow entered his fading vision, a figure approaching him from behind.

Warren weakly tilted his head and saw it—a boy. He couldn't make out his face, his sight too blurred, but in that moment, even a stranger felt like a thin plank floating in an endless ocean.

Summoning what little strength he had left, Warren raised his trembling hand toward the boy. A single word escaped his throat, hoarse and raw, scraped out from the depths of despair. "P-Please…"

And with that, his strength gave out, his eyes rolling back as he fainted.

William stood there for a moment, unmoving, his heart sinking unnaturally heavy at the sight before him.

The same boy who had once helped them, who had fought a ranked Devil with gallantry, now lay broken on the ground, surrendering not out of fear, but helplessness.

Kwiiiik

The boar Devil continued its charge, pushing forward despite the resistance pressing against its body.

William's breathing slowed, steady and unnervingly calm, as his crimson eyes locked onto the Devil.

In that instant, the beast felt it.

The certainty of its end.

The resistance vanished—but so did its will to fight. The Devil squealed in panic and began to back away, its instincts screaming danger far too late.

William took a step forward.

A Devil exploded.

He took another step, and another body burst apart, flesh and bone reduced to mist with each quiet movement.

He extended his left hand, fingers slightly curling, and every Devil swarming around the crying girl froze mid-motion, claws suspended in the air, jaws locked open in terror.

His jaw clenched tightly as he wrenched every single Devil away from her, dragging them back as if they weighed nothing, never once turning his head to look at her.

His right hand shot out as well, and in an instant, all the Devils charging toward the remaining two students were halted, their bodies stiffening as if time itself had seized them.

William took another step, and his feet left the ground.

Around him, more than a hundred Devils rose into the air, levitating helplessly, their struggles silent and futile.

At the very front, only the boar Devil remained, flailing violently, screaming as it tried to escape the invisible force crushing its body.

But there was no escape.

William's eyes looked as if they were bleeding crimson, hatred filled in them, yet his focus never wavered. Frustration simmered beneath that stare as he slowly drew both hands closer together, and in response, every suspended Devil was dragged inward.

KRIIIUK!!

AKKIEK— AKIEEEK!

GHUIIIIK!

Their screams overlapped into a single, mindless shriek. Bodies slammed together with sickening force. Limbs folded the wrong way, ribs snapped outward, and spines bent until they gave way.

Flesh tore and merged, blood spraying and then smearing as their forms were crushed tighter and tighter.

Claws sank into meat, teeth shattered against bone, and organs burst, spilling only to be forced back in as the mass compressed. Devils thrashed blindly, faces pressed into other faces, mouths frozen open in silent agony as their bodies lost all definition.

The sounds changed—from screams to wet crunches, from resistance to the slow, awful squelch of meat being kneaded together.

Bit by bit, a grotesque sphere took shape. A pulsating, uneven ball of mangled flesh, bone shards jutting out at odd angles, eyes and horns half-buried, twitching as life was squeezed out of it.

And before it all, William grinned.

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