Louskas stood, blue lightning dancing across his hand—crackling like a serpent wrapped in flame.
In a blink, the black bird shot toward him at an impossible speed. Louskas braced himself, ready to slice through its neck and dash toward the chieftains before the window of opportunity vanished.
But before he could even react, a crushing blow struck his left side.
Boom!
His body flew like a broken puppet, smashing against the trunk of a massive tree. The impact left a deep mark across the bark, and his body crumpled to the ground, twisting in agony. Bones screamed from within, sharp and urgent.
The pain was overwhelming—like a storm tearing through his insides—but he refused to lose consciousness. He wouldn't allow himself to die while there was still a sliver of hope.
His long black hair clung to his blood-smeared face. His breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps.
"So this is it… after everything, I'm still weak."
He didn't despise defeat—he understood it. No one becomes strong without tasting failure. The weak crumble after their first fall. The strong… they rise again, and again, no matter how many times they break.
But this time… it felt final.
Before him stood a massive ape, its body scarred and brutal. In one hand, it dragged the mutilated corpse of the black bird. A feral grin split its hideous face, fangs gleaming in the blood-colored light of the sky. Its eyes glimmered with joy—as if to say:
"Your journey ends here."
They locked eyes. Louskas read every twitch, every shift, searching for an opening… anything.
Then, he smiled—his teeth stained red.
"Ah… you were third-tier from the beginning, weren't you? That's why you were so obsessed with me."
His voice was calm, laced with a cold sarcasm. Slowly, he forced himself up from the tree trunk. Every movement screamed pain, but he stood tall.
He met the ape's savage gaze with a mocking grin.
"One little punch… and you're still mad about it? Did it hurt that much?"
The ape didn't need to understand his words—his eyes flared with fury.
Across the field, the two chieftains stopped fighting. They turned to the scene before them.
Now there were three tier-three beasts:
The black-winged chieftain, wings like falling night.
The green beast chieftain, wreathed in flame, barely wounded.
And the ape, raw muscle and vengeance, untouched by fatigue.
In the middle stood a boy—first stage—blood-soaked and surrounded by death, while three monsters marked him as their target.
Yet despite their hatred, the bird was clearly near defeat. The green chieftain's eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he lunged toward the faltering bird.
Tier-three beasts possessed sharp minds—capable of strategy and foresight. The green leader had made the smarter call. He wanted Louskas dead, but clashing with the still-fresh ape would be foolish. The bird, however, was easy prey.
Louskas exhaled slowly, his grin fading into a chilling stillness. A look filled his eyes—sharp, deadly—the same look a killer wears just before the final blow.
"Since you're so eager to die…"
He raised his chin slightly, locking eyes with the charging ape.
"Let me grant your wish."
The ape roared, surging toward him like a tidal wave of rage.