Blackie was thrown off-balance by the first blast, his massive frame staggering sideways as dirt and shrapnel burst beneath his feet.

BOOM.

Another step, another eruption.

BOOM. BOOM.

The landmines themselves were never going to pierce his hardened physique, but the concussive force was real, hammering through his body again and again. Every stride forward seemed to awaken another buried charge, the ground betraying him in a steady rhythm of fire and thunder.

For the first time, Blackie was getting a firsthand taste of the irritation Ethan had once endured while navigating minefields back in Ethereal.

From a safe distance, Micah winced with every detonation, his shoulders tightening as if he could feel the shockwaves himself. Blackfin, on the other hand, felt a very different kind of pain, one that settled deep in his chest and made his eyelid twitch. Those mines had been buried there for years, forming the backbone of his camp's defensive perimeter. He alone knew how obscenely expensive each one was. Every careless step Blackie took was literal money evaporating into smoke and flame. Not a single enemy had been harmed yet. The beast was simply bulldozing the field for them.

And yet, watching that monstrous figure stroll through explosions without a hint of fear sent a thrill through Blackfin's veins.

'Let's see the Apex Predators deal with this.'

"Apex!" Blackfin suddenly bellowed, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Blackie! The guys over there are from the Apex Predators! They blew up your roast chicken and planted all these mines! I don't know about you, but I couldn't swallow that kind of insult!"

Several members of Blackfin's crew slowly turned to stare at him, mouths hanging open. They were already struggling to process the sight of someone surviving a leisurely walk through a live minefield. Now their boss was lying with such bold confidence that it bordered on artistry. They had laid those mines themselves. Since when had Blackfin become this shameless, or this creative?

Whether Blackie heard him or not was impossible to tell. What followed made the question irrelevant.

A violent aura of blue-white lightning suddenly erupted from Blackie's body, crackling wildly as it spilled outward.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.

The electrical surge raced through the ground like a colossal fuse, igniting every buried mine within a massive radius all at once. The resulting explosion dwarfed the earlier rocket barrage, a single overwhelming roar that shook the earth. Dirt and smoke billowed upward in a towering cloud, blotting out the sky.

The Blackfin crew ducked instinctively, hearts pounding. On the opposite side of the field, the Apex Predators flinched as one.

Their second wave of RPGs had already been trained on that minefield. The plan was simple and brutal: saturate the area with explosions to carve out a wide, safe path. The only road leading to Blackfin's camp was narrow and winding, and a direct advance would stretch their forces too thin. Clearing the mines was the fastest way to get three or four thousand men moving together.

But after Blackie's spontaneous demolition, Voss, the leader of the Apex Predators, immediately canceled the order. Over a hundred men with loaded launchers lowered their weapons in near unison. Each rocket represented a painful slice of their operating budget. Modern mercenary warfare was as much about accounting as it was about firepower.

Voss had never expected this to be cheap. One of their patrols had been wiped out, and the blame had fallen squarely on Blackfin. Tensions between the two camps had been simmering for years, and this incident was the excuse he needed. He had personal grudges to settle as well. Eliminating Blackfin now, even at great cost, would be worth it. Blackfin's camp was rumored to hold valuable assets. If fortune favored them, the spoils might soften the financial blow.

No one among the Apex Predators had seriously considered the possibility of defeat. Their strength far surpassed Blackfin's patchwork outfit. Past conflicts had been limited to shadowy skirmishes, but this time Blackfin had crossed a line, killing a patrol and brazenly hunting on claimed territory. It was open provocation. Wiping him out would send a message to every mercenary group in the jungle and silence any dissent.

The mood had been one of grim anticipation. Then the minefield flashed blue and detonated in a single, earth-shaking roar, leaving the entire force staring in stunned silence.

"Noah," Voss said at last, his eyes narrowing. "Go check that."

Mines did not detonate like that. And that blue flash bothered him.

A lean, dark-skinned man at his side gave a silent nod. Slipping past the front lines, he vanished into the roiling cloud of smoke and dust.

---

Back at the ice room entrance, Ethan emerged just in time to see Victor turn toward him. The hardened veteran froze for a heartbeat, then his face broke into something raw and unguarded.

"Ethan… you're okay?" Victor's voice was thick, almost hoarse. He had held onto hope, convinced himself Ethan would survive somehow, but seeing him standing there alive was something else entirely. A man who had shed blood without hesitation felt his eyes sting in a way that made him look away.

"I'm fine," Ethan said, stepping forward and clapping a hand on Victor's shoulder. "What's all that noise?"

Victor followed his gaze toward the distant chaos. "Another merc group's making a move on Blackfin."

Ethan frowned. "Then why is Blackie out there waving a gun around like an idiot?"

His Soul Sense flowed outward as he spoke, painting a clear picture of the battlefield despite the smoke. He spotted Blackie immediately, a submachine gun dangling from his neck, the beast looking like the most dangerous amateur to ever pick up a firearm.

Then something else caught his attention.

An unfamiliar presence was moving stealthily toward Blackie.

Ethan focused. A Mutant. What was a Mutant doing mixed up in a mercenary clash like this?

He watched the figure close the distance, but felt no real concern. A Mutant of that level should have been little more than a warm-up for Blackie.

Or so he thought.

The Apex Predators' second-in-command, Noah, slipped to within ten meters of Blackie without being noticed. His movements were unnervingly smooth, his body seeming to melt into the drifting smoke and dust. Ethan's interest sharpened. What kind of ability was that? Smoke manipulation, or something even stranger?

Ethan expected an ambush. Instead, Noah circled Blackie at a careful distance, observing him for several tense seconds before beginning to withdraw just as quietly.

'Smart. He knows better than to provoke that thing.'

Ethan, however, had no intention of letting him leave unchallenged. With a subtle thought, he sent a spike of Soul Sense lancing toward the retreating Mutant. He kept the force modest and made no effort to hide the spiritual disturbance. It was a warning, nothing more.

The transparent, arrow-like energy streaked forward. Noah sensed it instantly, reacting on instinct. Just as he moved, the projectile suddenly accelerated, a blunt message that the earlier speed had been deliberate restraint.

The moment he felt that alien pressure, Noah's eyes widened in shock. He threw himself forward in a desperate dive.

The abrupt motion shattered his flawless stealth. He hit the ground hard and rolled, skidding to a stop nearly twenty meters from Blackie, dirt spraying into the air.

That finally drew Blackie's attention.

He spun around with a thunderous roar and squeezed the trigger of his submachine gun.

BRRRRRT.

Bullets tore into the ground in a straight, furious line, dirt exploding upward in a neat trail that carved across the battlefield. Unfortunately, that line passed several feet away from the prone Noah, missing him entirely.

Watching through his Soul Sense, Ethan rubbed his face.

'You are an ancient magical beast with the power to flatten a small town, and you are playing with a toy gun...'

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