Fredrick laughed softly. “Fallen? ‘Fallen’ implies it could rise again. And please, you should try harder to stall. It’s obvious none of you are beyond the advanced class, which means those in the armor are probably chasing the others. In that case, I should wrap this up and help her. Although I don’t doubt her skills, fighting two special-class enemies is impossible even for me.”

Damn it! Adler gritted his teeth, unsheathing his chain sword, its iron fangs gleaming. He took a deep breath and commanded, "Kill the Blasphemer."

“Blasphemer? That’s a heavy accusation,” Fredrick said with a smirk, watching the guards ready their weapons and charge at him. Thankfully, the cannons aren’t ready yet, he thought.

At that moment, the unseen guards froze.

Despite their monstrous appearance, the unseen guards were still human enough to feel fear, to have memories—and right now, fear gripped them. They watched in horror as the last surviving member of the Abraham family began peeling off his own skin like it was a coat. Blood and flesh tore from his chest as he ripped himself open, revealing his white, blood-stained bones, still-beating heart, and lungs.

“What is this?” Adler asked, recalling the documents he had studied before being sent on this mission. The report detailed Anette’s evolutionary abilities, but for Fredrick, there had only been one instruction: Kill him before he does anything!

Adler’s frustration deepened. He hadn’t even been assigned to this mission initially; he was only dragged into it after two imperial swordsmen spotted Anette observing them. Now, his squad had been sent as reinforcements to kill Fredrick and capture the boy. Adler still found it strange that they were to capture the boy instead of eliminating him.

Adler relied solely on his years of training as a swordsman without evolutionary powers. The guards charged forward, with one aiming to sever Fredrick’s arm.

Blood splattered, and Fredrick’s arm fell to the ground, soaking the grass in red. But no sooner had his arm been cut off than the flesh at his shoulder began to writhe. Skin peeled away, forming a pink, slimy cocoon the size of an arm.

Fredrick smiled and flexed his new arm as the cocoon tore open, revealing a fresh hand dripping with milky white liquid. “Good as new,” he said with a grin, proceeding to tear more skin from his body. His flesh split into two crevices, exposing his organs. A strange protrusion formed around his exposed intestines, a red, meaty blob detaching itself and falling to the ground.

Adler recoiled in disgust at the writhing blob, which moved sluggishly like a gu worm.

What in the Pure is that? he thought, horrified.

Suddenly, the blob began expanding, growing taller and larger at an alarming rate. It quickly took shape, transforming into a humanoid figure. The head was that of a pig, attached to a human's body, its dark pink skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Monster!” one of the guards shouted, raising his sword.

“Monster? You shouldn’t say that in front of a mother,” Fredrick chuckled, creating more blobs of flesh. These fell to the ground and morphed into grotesque pig-like creatures. Unlike the first, these were leaner and more muscular, and their eyes burned with aggression.

The more he creates, the stronger they become, Adler realized. With urgency, he shouted, “Kill him now!”

“So you’ve caught on,” Fredrick smirked, giving his own command. “Attack!”

The pigmen squealed and charged at the guards with terrifying speed. The battle erupted.

The guards, mostly of the ordinary class, were quickly overwhelmed. The pigmen seemed immune to pain, and their wounds healed rapidly. The situation grew dire as the guards found themselves outmatched by the relentless, regenerating monsters. Though the creatures were of the ordinary class, their resilience and ferocity posed a significant threat.

Exhausted from creating so many pigmen, Fredrick began to heal the crevices in his body. His torn flesh melded back together, his internal organs hidden once more as his skin regenerated. Soon, his body was restored, though his chest still glistened with the slimy white liquid.

Adler swung his blade at Fredrick, but Fredrick dodged with practiced ease. “Mothers can be warriors too,” he said with a grin, his hand morphing into black, sharp claws covered in bulging veins.

Fredrick slashed at Adler, who raised his sword just in time. The two clashed, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoing through the air. Fredrick followed up with a powerful punch, sending Adler flying. But Adler, like a cat, landed on his feet, knees bent.

How many times has he evolved? Adler wondered. Evolution wasn’t the same as class—one was about the path a being took, and the other represented sheer power. Right now, Adler was trying to gauge what other abilities this “blasphemer” possessed, given his special-class status.

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“Aaahhh!” A scream tore through the battlefield as one of the guards was attacked by a pig-man, its teeth sinking into his shoulder. The guard slashed at the creature, but it was behind him, out of reach, gnawing deeper into his flesh.

Damn it! Adler cursed. The guards were imposing, but they weren’t as powerful as sanguines. In truth, they were a weaker division of the unseen guards. Still, the thought gnawed at him: Why weren’t stronger teams sent? Is this a suicide mission?

Adler’s gaze swept over his comrades, falling one by one. His jaw clenched in frustration.

“For humanity, for the gods, and for the Sovereign,” he muttered.

“Fire the cannon!” he shouted.

Boom!

Fredrick’s eyes widened in disbelief. He had hoped the guards wouldn’t fire the cannon with so many of their own so close. But now, it seemed they were willing to sacrifice themselves. Are they really going to kill their own men?

The only thing Fredrick saw was a glowing, fiery ball flying toward him.

Then, everything erupted. The explosion boomed, sending a powerful shockwave through the cornfield. Stalks of corn were uprooted, flung into the air, and scattered by the blast.

After a moment, Fredrick opened his eyes, a ringing echoing in his head. His vision was blurred, yellowish spots of light flickering at the edges. Gradually, his sight cleared. Around him lay the remains of guards, their limbs severed, some missing legs, arms, or even heads. The field was ablaze, the corn burning in the aftermath of the blast.

Through the pain of mana exhaustion, Fredrick also felt a sharp agony in his leg. He glanced down to see his left leg gone, replaced by writhing flesh, steadily regenerating.

Sitting there, waiting for his leg to fully heal, Fredrick smiled and let out a soft laugh. "I even lost my children. What a terrible mother I am."

His gaze shifted to a brighter spot in the fire.

So this is what’s left of you? he thought, sneering.

A few meters away, a charred figure knelt, sword embedded in the ground, head bowed as if in prayer.

"For mankind, for the gods, and for the Sovereign... That’s probably what you were thinking before you sacrificed yourself," Fredrick chuckled and looked up at the moon shining brightly over the desolation. "This world is very, very wrong. I imagine many mothers lost their children today."

"You!" A few of the remaining guards, those who had manned the cannon, approached through the devastation with grim expressions. Despite their black, coin-like eyes, Fredrick could sense their fury.

Weren't you the ones who just killed your captain and team? Sorry, but I don’t have time to fight you.

Suddenly, the two guards froze. A hand had pierced through their stomachs, protruding out the other side. A squeal echoed behind them, followed by soft sobbing.

The guards collapsed to the ground, staining the scorched earth with their blood. In their place stood a pig-man, tears streaming down its hairless, pink face. It quickly rushed to Fredrick, grabbing his legs and sobbing, "Mama, mama, I missed you."

Smiling warmly, Fredrick gently stroked the creature's head. "I missed you too," he replied.

----------------------------------------

Blades of grass brushed against Karl’s face as he felt the wind rushing past his ears. Was he moving? He struggled to open his eyes, the pain in his body having lessened considerably. The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the vast green field stretching out beneath its faint red hue.

Everything was moving quickly, the landscape rushing by. He looked down—his feet weren’t on the ground. Something, or someone, was carrying him.

"Anette at your service, my lord," a female voice said, despite the wind roaring around them.

Karl glanced up. A woman in a black dress was holding him with one arm, running at inhuman speeds. He wasn’t surprised by her strength—she was clearly a sanguine. Instead, he asked, "Where are we going?" His words were partly muffled by the wind, but she heard him.

"Canen," Anette responded.

Canen? That’s far from the manor, Karl thought, realizing they were heading toward the empire’s capital. So far from here…

His thoughts returned to the explosion that had destroyed the shed. Were the others dead?

So they’re gone. He stared into the distance with a solemn expression. I suppose it was inevitable. At least I survived. But... they were the same as my friend. Unlike him, they didn’t die with honor or glory—they were just blown to bits. Should I seek revenge for them? Or should I focus on building the utopia I promised?

"Where are you going, miss?" a figure suddenly appeared in their path. The man’s face resembled the swordsmen Karl had encountered earlier, but this one carried an air of superiority.

"Special," Anette said quietly.

Special? As in special class? Karl frowned at the realization. He still didn’t fully understand why Anette had saved him, but now they faced a being of great power.

The "special class" referred to one of the higher tiers of strength in this world, used to measure a being’s destructive capabilities. There were different classes: ordinary, advanced, special, desolation, and hazard. Beyond that, Karl wasn’t sure.

The man spoke calmly, "Please, hand over the boy, Anette."

Without responding, Anette dropped Karl to the ground. She pulled out a classic mirror and hurled it at the guard.

Time seemed to slow. The guard stared at the approaching mirror, his reflection shimmering on its surface. Suddenly, a white light flashed within the glass, and a hand holding a dagger shot out.

The guard swung his sword effortlessly. It made no sound, didn’t even stir the air.

The mirror shattered into countless shards, sparkling as they fell like rain. The swordsman smirked, "For someone of your power, shouldn’t you be carrying a box of glass, not a single mirror?"

But as the shards fell, one piece flashed with a faint white light. Anette’s figure emerged from the shard, and she opened her mouth. A piercing shriek echoed through the night!

It collided with the guard like a battering ram, blowing apart half of his face. Blood and flesh bubbled, boiling as they mixed in a grotesque display. The guard’s brain was exposed, white liquid mixing with the red.

Without a word, Anette leaped back to Karl, quickly grabbing him before bolting away at incredible speed.

Is she stronger than a special class? Karl wondered, watching her. Did this mean she was a hazard-class being? Or was the swordsman simply weaker than most of his rank? Weren’t special-class beings said to have the power to subdue entire villages?

His thoughts were interrupted as the ground rushed up to meet him. Bang! His face slammed into the earth, sending him rolling from the force of the fall. Did she drop me?