The sight was revolting. Inside the silver barrier formed by the Argyrian Patriarch's ancestral tree, the corpses of various creatures and the still-living, screeching bodies of others melded grotesquely into one giant, writhing mass.

"Are we really going to stand here doing nothing to stop that?" remarked the Ferron Patriarch.

His frustration was understandable. Letting the Argyrian Patriarch continue whatever twisted machination he was enacting was, at the very least, questionable. But what did he expect us to do?

When no one answered his remark, he took the initiative. With a command, he made an attempt—well, that was a figure of speech. The Ferron Patriarch himself didn't personally strike; rather, he gave the order. It was his flying fortress looming in the distance that acted on his behalf.

A hum of magic filled the air, a deep, thrumming resonance that vibrated through my chest and made my hair stand on end. The fortress, a masterpiece of magecraft suspended in midair, shimmered with pulsating glyphs, each aglow with shifting, fiery brilliance. The vast red crystal, usually positioned beneath the fortress for optimal obliteration, was now angled like a cannon barrel, perfectly aligned with its target.

Without any dramatic build up—just the radiating waves of energy crackling like distant thunder—the fortress unleashed its wrath. The red crystal erupted with a column of searing energy, golden with streaks of black and crimson.

It carved through the sky, splitting the air with an ear splitting roar, and struck the ethereal tree with cataclysmic force. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, distorting the air. Even the Ferron Patriarch, who had ordered the strike, had to brace himself against the backlash.

A couple of seconds went by until the Ferron Patriarch sighed, "My, my, my, what a waste of resources..."

The barrier, despite its delicate, spectral beauty, held firm. The tree flared brilliantly, its silvery branches absorbing the full brunt of the attack. A moment later, the energy dispersed in a thousand radiant tendrils, cascading harmlessly into the void. The fortress's assault had been utterly nullified.

I wasn't the least bit surprised. In fact, I would have been more shocked if it had actually worked.

Having maxed out my [Identification] skill, I'd acquired a passive subskill that allowed me to instinctively gauge the destructive potential of any attack I notice being used. While ancestral trees couldn't be evaluated through [Identification]—likely due to their nature as sigils—I could still tell that the attack was futile. There was a reason I hadn’t wasted my energy on it earlier: the Argyrian Patriarch’s tree was too powerful. After all the sigil was one manifested out of nearly all the subaffinities of the elemental main affinity, making it an unassailable force. To make matters worse, he was, at this distance, seamlessly drawing energy from his monsters, using them as living batteries. Had the elven monarchs fulfilled their promises on slaying all the monsters, maybe that wouldn’t have been a problem. But reality was what it was—bitter as ever.

As it stood, destroying the barrier was impossible. Kind of.

An optimist might say there was one way, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I was still an optimist. Theoretically, if the Aurian Matriarch and the Ferron and Umbryan Patriarchs combined the power of their own ancestral trees, they could counterbalance and annihilate the Argyrian Patriarch’s tree—just as I had done when he trapped me earlier.

But that was only in theory.

In practice, such an idea was laughable. No monarch would willingly sacrifice their sigil. Even if the destruction was only temporary, being without their ancestral tree, even for a moment, was akin to stripping themselves naked—not in a matter of dignity, but of survival. Their sigils were their ultimate defense against unforeseen death. Unless their lives were in immediate peril, they would never risk that vulnerability. And I couldn't blame them for it.

"Well," sighed the Ferron Patriarch, resigned, "at least I tried something."

Raising an eyebrow at him, as did the other monarchs, I caught sight of approaching silhouettes. They were the ones who had accompanied the elven monarchs for this final confrontation—attendants, escorts. Mostly Solvan and Noctil elves, but among them were Honey, Goblin, Blondie, Bortz, and Aquaflora, all closing in.

After sizing them up and down, I asked, "You lot alright?" My question was mostly directed at the three boys in the group—if, of course, you counted Goblin in his current form. Licht, Goblin, and Bortz were covered in blood from head to toe. Though I was 100% sure the blood wasn’t theirs, I couldn't help but ask.

Flapping the large pair of blood-stained white avian wings on his back, Goblin responded in a manic voice that matched his expression—one that was anything but reassuring. "We good. We feeling good."

He wasn’t the only one looking manic. Bortz, who lacked flight-related skills, was dangling from Goblin’s left arm just like Honey, who held onto his right hand. Bortz’s therianthropic traits, which he usually kept discreet, were on partial display, and the chains binding him seemed on the verge of breaking apart.

Noting that, I called back Tharazuul, the Rotten Beholder, which had remained at the spot I summoned it from. Then, I turned to Bortz. "Need me to strengthen the curse?"

"No," Bortz replied, regaining his composure. "I'll be fine without it—at least until the end of this."

"Alright," I answered with a smile, acknowledging Honey, who grinned like he was having the time of his life. Turning to Blondie and Aquaflora, the latter immediately retracting the apprehensive gaze she had thrown at Tharazuul, I asked, "You two alright?"

Blondie nodded. "Yes, Ma’am."

Aquaflora, less enthusiastic, muttered, "We’re alive. Somehow."

"That’s the essential thing," I replied. "I need everyone alive and—" I cut myself off, noting a change in the Argyrian Patriarch.

At this point, there was nothing to distinguish the living monsters from the corpses; they had melted into one grotesque, indistinguishable mass that seemed to have taken on a life of its own inside the barrier.

"Appraisal," I requested from Blondie, who had the skill at level 10.

"This thing can’t be appraised," she answered. "Too many stats are popping up at once when I try."

I sighed. Not surprising. Turning instead to the one most likely to give me a useful prognosis, I locked eyes with Goblin.

Noticing my glance, he stepped closer and, in a hushed voice, said, "This is beyond anything I’m familiar with when it comes to [Assimilation], but I know for a fact that merging with such a ridiculous ratio of corpses and living beings is a terrible idea. Sure, he has full control over them, so he doesn’t have to deal with resistance while assimilating the living creatures—but the corpses…"

Having raised Goblin, I had learned the basics of his craft alongside him. Assimilation came in two forms. The first involved dead monsters—the user would kill them, then absorb their traits, a process that forced the stolen abilities to merge entirely with the user’s own resources, often causing the acquired attributes to draw directly from the user’s HP, SP, and MP. The second was different: instead of killing the creature, the user bonded with it, borrowing traits rather than taking them outright. Goblin had always preferred the latter method. Though more tedious, it allowed him to keep separate stats from the monster, meaning he retained his own HP, SP, and MP rather than merging completely. Logically, it made sense, as this approach prevented the creature from tapping directly into his personal reserves. But I knew the real reason he chose this method: he loved the monsters he bonded with.

So, to get back to the matter at hand, going by what Goblin was suggesting now, it seems that if the Argyrian Patriarch wanted to do something with these corpses, which he clearly is, he’d have to pour vast resources into it.

"Not that I want to be overly optimistic," Goblin continued, "but I think we’ve backed him into a corner."

"Backed him into a corner, huh?"

"I mean, no matter how I look at it, this feels like something a desperate person would do. I might sound mad for saying this, but if I were in his shoes, I’d probably do the same thing."

Glancing at the Argyrian Patriarch, I mused, "I guess you’re right." Then, turning to Aquaflora, I told her, "You heard Goblin. Be ready. This might—"

I stopped mid-sentence as the shifting, amorphous mass that was now the Patriarch suddenly squirmed. A massive growth erupted from it, swelling grotesquely before bursting open to reveal a giant eyeball, its silver iris unmistakably that of the Argyrian Patriarch. It panned over us—me, Goblin, the elven monarchs, and everyone who had gathered from the other fronts, clustering around their respective leaders.

Then, another growth formed, this one not an eye but a vast, gaping mouth. Inside, something condensed—a presence that boded nothing good. The air vibrated with an unnatural force as a deep, commanding voice boomed from the abomination:

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

[DON’T MOVE!]

For a moment, the force of the command froze me in place. But my instincts screamed at me to move. Without hesitation, I grabbed Goblin, Aquaflora, Honey, Licht, Blondie, and Bortz. Then, I did the only thing that made sense:

I got the fuck out of there. Fast.

Avoiding the directions taken by the three monarchs—who, like me, had resisted the command—I shot upward in a violent ascent. As I climbed, Aquaflora gasped at the sudden movement, and below us, the monstrous entity unleashed the attack it had been preparing in its grotesque maw.

It began in silence—an expectant hush that seemed to herald the coming devastation. Even the wind dared not stir, as if nature itself held its breath for the destruction about to be unleashed.

Then the beam came. A deafening roar shattered the stillness, echoing across the entire region. From the depths of the monstrosity’s throat, a column of pure, radiant violet light erupted, streaking across the landscape with terrifying speed and destruction. It was blinding—a searing lance of energy that threatened to tear reality itself apart.

From my vantage point, I watched in awe as the beam, crackling with diverse elements—lightning, light, gravity, and more—slammed into the distant mountains.

The impact came with a brilliant flash and a thunderous explosion that shook the ground beneath us. In mere moments, massive chunks of rock and earth were vaporized, leaving a gaping wound in the mountain range. The beam pressed on, carving through stone and reshaping the land with horrifying ease.

My battle against the Argyrian Patriarch had already upended the surroundings, but this surpassed all that had come before. The once-towering peaks in the faraway distance, which had stood for millennia, crumbled before my eyes. Ancient trees, ridges—everything in its path—were consumed, flattened, and annihilated in an instant.

After what felt like an eternity—though it was likely only a minute—the beam finally dissipated. As the violet glow receded, I beheld what remained: a smoldering, irreversibly altered world. Looking around, I searched for survivors. Out of the many elves who had gathered under their monarchs when joining this front, only a handful remained—the ones whisked away by their monarchs in time to escape the blast.

"Everyone alright?" I asked, my voice cutting through the settling silence.

They all nodded in response, looking the part—except for Aquaflora, who, despite mimicking the others, had clearly taken a blow from our abrupt ascent.

Blondie spoke up beside me, her voice wavering but filled with resolve. "Ma’am," she said. "I can finally use Appraisal on it."

"Oh? What does it say?"

"I can’t make out its offense, defense, or most of its abilities," she admitted, exhaling shakily, "but its MP is in the dozens of millions—and it’s dropping fast."

"What the hell…" Goblin muttered.

"And the HP?" I asked, anticipation thick in my voice.

"Not even over six digits, Ma’am," Blondie said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

I returned the smile. Against all odds, we were finally seeing a glimmer of hope.

"Ready yourselves," I said firmly. "This is finally coming to an end."

But the lull was short-lived. The monstrosity stirred again. Much like the enormous mouth it had manifested, countless smaller mouths appeared across its grotesque form—each glowing with that same ominous violet light.

"Everyone, brace yourselves!" I warned, using my chains to pull them together before dragging them to evade what was coming. Instead of a single beam, dozens—maybe hundreds—lashed out chaotically.

The second barrage was worse than the first. Beams of violet energy scorched the skies, ripped open the earth, and obliterated anything that hadn’t already been reduced to rubble. Dodging was a hassle—relying on my speed alone wasn’t enough. At times, I had to use my swords as a propelling platform just to avoid getting caught by the dancing beams.

Amidst the chaos, I heard a furious curse.

"Fuuuuuuck!" The voice belonged to the Ferron Patriarch—who, having brought no subordinates to this front, was free of casualties. His mighty flying fortress, however, was not. A bolt of violet light shattered the fortress’s barrier, leaving it exposed for another beam to finish the job. Bisected in two, the fortress began its descent—a cascade of shrapnel and flames tumbling from the sky.

"That was a hundred and twenty-four years of craftsmanship! You’re gonna pay for this!" he roared.

He turned his fury on the towering monstrosity in the distance, but it remained protected behind its shield, untouchable for now. There was nothing he could do but seethe at the loss.

As the battlefield quieted, I cast a meaningful glance at Goblin and the others before letting go of them to meet with the elven monarchs, who had gathered midair. No doubt they had seen what Blondie saw, so as soon as I joined them, I declared, "It has less than 1 millions HP, I can finish this thing off with one attack—but I need that barrier gone."

The three elven monarchs immediately understood what I meant. Seeing their hesitation, I pointed at the creature, whose gaze remained ominously fixed on us. "We don’t have time. This decision has to be made now."

Reluctantly, the Umbryan Patriarch and the Aurian Matriarch agreed to my plan with a nod. The Ferron Patriarch, still fuming over his fortress, had been in from the moment I made the offer.

“Avenge my fortress!”

"Alright," I declared, ascending far higher into the sky. In my ascent, I saw the three monarchs rush toward the monstrosity, stopping at the very edge of its ancestral tree. Instead of attacking the barrier outright, as one would expect, they instead manifested their own ancestral trees—the Umbryan Patriarch his Obsidial Tree, the Aurian Matriarch her Solith Tree, and the Ferron Patriarch his Cinnabar Tree. Their goal was clear: to destroy the Argyrian Patriarch’s ancestral tree through sheer overwhelming force, betting that their combined might would outlast his.

One by one, their ancestral trees shattered, each impact weakening the Argyrian Patriarch’s barrier but not yet completely nullifying it. The sight was beyond frustrating, but at this point, backing down was not an option. To retreat now would be the worst decision imaginable. Refusing to let the elven monarchs’ sacrifice of their sigil go to waste, I moved to finish what they had started.

With a swing, I unleashed my summoned spear—[Judgement of the Firmament]. With a cry, I thrust both arms forward and sent the titanic lance hurtling downward. It pierced the heavens, plummeting like a meteor from the cosmos. For one breathless moment, I watched it slice through the clouds, majestic and unstoppable. Then, it slammed into the barrier’s silvery and ethereal surface.

The impact was blinding, accompanied by a thunderous boom as the lance collided with the ancestral tree. The barrier held, but I could tell from its dimming vitality that it was struggling heavily. I knew that I could shatter it by activating the Arctic Oblivion effect of this Judgement of the Firmament, but I refused to use that power just to break the shield.

Instead, gritting my teeth, I dove downward at breakneck speed. Reaching the lance in an instant, my boots sparked with raw energy as I delivered a wind-enhanced dropkick with all my strength.

It felt like kicking a mountain. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but the resulting shockwave made it worth it.

In that decisive moment, a single, resounding crack echoed across the battlefield. The great tree-shaped barrier trembled, then—instantly—shattered into glittering splinters. As if my kick had commanded them to vanish, the fragments disintegrated in midair, freeing the lance to continue its deadly descent.

Below, the massive monstrosity roared in defiance, its deep growl rattling through my very bones.

[STOP!]

The Argyrian Patriarch’s voice echoed through the battlefield. I felt his authority pressing against me, stronger than before, but it was futile against an inanimate object. The spear continued its descent unhindered, driving straight into the monstruosity’s giant eye with merciless brutality.

The impact was earth-shattering. Even from my place in the sky, I felt the ground tremble violently. Rock and dust erupted in a roaring cloud, momentarily swallowing everything in swirling debris. The sickening crunch of the lance piercing flesh was soon drowned out by the colossal detonation that followed.

With a whisper, I activated [Tri-Elemental Oblivion]. The runes—three glowing circles etched around the midpoint of the lance—flared to life, summoning multilayered magic circles of three distinct varieties. Wind, water, and ice surged forth, each unleashing catastrophic devastation.

First came the howling storm of wind. Razor-sharp gusts erupted from the magic circles, slicing through the monstrosity like countless unseen blades. The storm didn’t just strike from the outside—it erupted from within, where the lance had buried deep into its flesh, dicing it from both directions.

The second surge was a tidal torrent of water. Coiling around the spear like a sea serpent, it crashed outward, shattering bone and extinguishing the beast’s guttural wails under the relentless slicing.

The final touch—the true devastation—came as the lance underwent an instant transition. A radiantly cold aura spread outward from the impact point, rapidly freezing the monstrosity’s body. Before it could be thoroughly encased in ice, however, the weapon detonated in a brilliant explosion of frost and force.

The earth buckled.

For a heartbeat, I, being the closest to the blast, felt as though the very fabric of space around me was being torn apart. Thanks to my skills, I was immune to any HP reduction from my own attacks, yet I could still feel it anatomically—my lungs seized, my vision flickered with spots of black, and the deafening roar of destruction swallowed every other sound.

When calm returned to the scene, a hush fell over the battlefield, broken only by the distinct sound of snowflakes drifting and the remaining rogue winds whistling. I hovered momentarily before descending, catching sight of the elven monarchs, Goblin, and the others approaching. I made my way down, intent on checking whether the bastard was truly gone.

As I neared the ground, the veil of debris slowly faded. The first thing I noticed was the absence of the monstrosity—only cracks spiderwebbed across the earth for miles, and frozen chunks of what remained of it were scattered about.

It was wise to be prudent. The system had not properly rewarded me with experience points for the kill. I had received a lot, sure, but slaying something of that magnitude should have resulted in multiple level-ups at the very least. The system was fair—I knew that much. If it hadn't given me the proper reward, it could only mean one thing: I hadn’t truly finished the job. In other words, he was still alive somewhere.

And he didn’t take long to make that clear.

Emerging from the rubble, the bastard reappeared—breathing, living, and, much to everyone’s annoyance, butt-naked.

"Tch!" The Aurian Matriarch grimaced in disgust.

"Sigh. For real?" The Ferron Patriarch scowled in indignation.

"Can't you just d—" The Umbryan Patriarch seethed, cutting himself off as he summoned his familiar, clearly about to unleash it upon the Argyrian Patriarch. But just as he was about to attack, a word reverberated through the battlefield.

[STOP.]

The command echoed countless times in our heads. It wasn’t merely a word—it was an order, a compulsion we were forced to obey. My exhaustion made it harder than ever to resist.

[DO NOT MOVE!] The Argyrian Patriarch repeated the command again and again. As we remained frozen, he took flight, making his way toward the immobilized Aurian Matriarch, who was closest to him. His intent was obvious.

For him, who wielded a Nature Ancestral Tree, killing her would allow him to claim her sigil. Madness aside, his choice of target made strategic sense.

This had to be stopped.

And somehow, it was.

Halfway through reaching the Aurian Matriarch, he halted—not because of us, but as if something else had pulled his attention away, just like he did before. His gaze shifted suddenly, and instead of striking her down, he turned and shot like a missile toward something on the eastern horizon.

It took only half a moment for us to regain control of our bodies, and we wasted no time. The moment we were free, we all—Goblin and the others included—charged after him.

"Running away? As if I’d allow that," the Umbryan Patriarch growled. He, alongside me and the Aurian Matriarch, was among the fastest in pursuit. The Argyrian was only about a hundred meters ahead when we caught up, ready to end this once and for all.

But then, something stopped us all in our tracks.

The attack that followed was gravitational in nature—strong enough to knock mountains over. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have been enough to stop someone as powerful as me or the elven monarchs. And that was the thing. The reason we came to an abrupt halt had nothing to do with its sheer force.

It was about who had used it.

The presence before us was no mere force of nature. It was a familiar—pristine white scales, eyes as blue as the sky. A serpent. The very same one that had ravaged the Umbryan and Argyrian capitals. And now, it coiled into existence before the Argyrian Patriarch, its vast form looming over him

Him—whom the serpent, with effortless finality—swallowed whole. And it was clear, from the notification that appeared in the corner of my vision, that it had not merely swallowed him.

[Hex Components Harvested]