After the attack on Creston City prison, the entire nation braced itself for the next assault.

Security at every other prison was drastically increased.

High walls fortified with mana-enhanced barriers surrounded the compounds, while guilds stationed their hunters nearby, ready for the inevitable.

The hunters believed they were prepared, but they underestimated the force they were about to face.

The coordinated attacks on the prisons were no longer the work of a hidden mastermind pulling strings from the shadows.

Cyrus, the dungeon boss, had chosen to take the field himself, leading his forces with ruthless precision.

What had been chaos in Creston City was now a calculated campaign of terror and destruction.

Now, as darkness enveloped the countryside, Cyrus emerged from the depths of the forest at the head of a terrible army.

His pale skin gleamed with an unearthly light, the green crystal on his forehead pulsing in rhythm with his commands.

The horns spiraling from his head shimmered, and the crystals embedded in his body radiated an aura of fear.

The hunters stationed at the prison saw him first.

“What is that thing…?” one whispered, trembling as Cyrus stepped into view, flanked by his army of golems and chimeras.

“Hold your ground!” their leader barked, though his voice wavered. “It’s just another dungeon boss—”

Cyrus raised his hand, and before the hunter could finish, a shard of crystal shot from his palm, impaling him through the chest.

And after a moment, it blast off with a boom.

Injuring surrounding hunters.

“‘Just another dungeon boss’? How quaint,” Cyrus muttered, his voice echoing unnaturally.

“Let’s show them what happens when you insult perfection. Attack.”

---

In the dead of night, a deafening rumble shattered the uneasy silence.

The assault began with a calculated ferocity.

The golems, massive and unyielding, moved to dismantle the prison walls.

They advanced like living siege weapons, their hulking forms impervious to most attacks.

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

Hunters hurled fire and lightning at them, but the flames barely singed their surfaces, and bolts of electricity only slowed them for a moment.

Behind the golems came the chimera ants, swift and vicious.

They darted through gaps in the defense, overwhelming hunters with their agility.

A chimera with razor-sharp pincers lunged at a swordsman, its jaws slicing cleanly through his blade before tearing into his armor.

The golems and chimeras moved with precision, no longer the mindless beasts seen in Creston.

Each chimera darted between the lumbering golems, striking where the enemy was most vulnerable, while the golems provided an unyielding shield, crushing anyone who dared to challenge their advance.

The hunters stationed at the prison scrambled to mount a defense.

Spells of fire and lightning lit up the night, arrows flew, and swords clashed against stone.

For a brief moment, they seemed to push back the tide.

A fire mage hurled a blazing inferno at a clay golem, its body hardening and cracking under the heat.

“Keep going! Don’t let them breach the walls!” he shouted.

But before he could celebrate, a chimera ant pounced from the shadows.

Its jagged claws tore through the mage’s defenses, silencing his cries.

His comrades could only watch in horror as the chimera’s acidic saliva melted his remains.

“Fall back! Regroup!” a knight bellowed, his sword glowing with holy light.

He charged into the fray, cutting down one chimera after another.

But even as he fought valiantly, a steel golem descended upon him, its hammer-like fists shattering his shield and crushing him into the ground.

The hunters fought bravely, managing to disable a few golems and take down several chimeras, but the enemy’s coordination was unlike anything they had seen before.

But the real terror was Cyrus himself.

The hunters had never seen anything like him.

With every step he took, crystalline spikes erupted from the ground, impaling anyone foolish enough to approach.

When a group of hunters tried to surround him, he laughed—a cold, mocking sound—and released a wave of green energy that brought forth large spikes around him, impaling through them.

One brave mage launched a fireball directly at him.

Cyrus caught it with his bare hand, the flames extinguished as they touched his crystalline skin.

“Pathetic,” he said, flinging the now-cooled sphere back with explosive force.

The prison’s defenders fought desperately, but Cyrus’s forces were relentless.

When a group of archers managed to fell a stone golem, another immediately stepped in to crush them.

When a chimera was struck down, its brethren swarmed to avenge it.

Then there was Magal, Cyrus’s personal creation.

Enhanced with the Black Sphere’s power, the chimera ant general was an unstoppable force.

Moving with unnatural speed, he ripped through the ranks of hunters like a storm, his claws slicing through armor and flesh with ease.

He moved like a shadow, weaving between hunters and striking with surgical precision.

He leapt onto a heavily armored warrior, piercing through his enchanted plate with ease.

With a sickening crack, Magal ripped the man in half, his claws dripping with gore.

“He’s too fast! Focus fire on him!” a hunter cried, launching a barrage of arrows.

Magal dodged with inhuman agility, his movements a blur.

One arrow managed to graze his carapace, but it only seemed to enrage him.

With a guttural roar, he charged the archers, slashing through them like paper.

---

This wasn’t the only prison under siege.

Across the country, similar scenes of carnage unfolded.

At one prison, a talking crow, Krothe, led the attack, his caws filled with mocking laughter as he directed swarms of chimera ants and golems.

Beside him was a small golem, deceptively innocent in appearance but capable of conjuring deadly spikes of stone that impaled guards and hunters alike.

In another location, Kevin, shrouded in darkness, orchestrated the chaos.

He unleashed a wave of destructive magic, reducing walls and guards to ash.

His cold, emotionless demeanor struck fear into the hearts of those who tried to stand against him.

---

The guilds’ reinforcements were delayed by chaos within their ranks.

Spies planted by the Demonic Guild revealed themselves at the worst possible moment, sabotaging supply lines and spreading false information.

In some cases, entire guild branches turned against their own allies.

“What’s happening? Why are they attacking us?” a guild leader shouted as one of his trusted lieutenants drove a dagger into his back.

“You’ve been blind for too long,” the traitor sneered. “The Demonic Guild will bring true power to this world.”

This internal strife bought Cyrus and his forces the time they needed to devastate the prisons and retreat before reinforcements could arrive.

----

By the time the dust settled, the prisons lay in ruins.

Walls were crumbled, gates torn asunder, and the ground littered with bodies—guards, hunters, and civilians alike.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and ash.

Cyrus stood amidst the destruction, surveying his handiwork.

His cold, calculating eyes scanned the battlefield as the surviving golems and chimeras returned to his side.

“Efficient,” he muttered to himself.

“But not perfect. Next time, we’ll aim for perfection.”

In the distance, Magal knelt before him, his claws still slick with blood.

“Let’s move,” Cyrus commanded, his voice steady. “This is only the beginning.”

Behind him, the surviving prisoners—now conscripts of the Demonic Guild—followed in his wake like a plague, ready to spread further chaos.

The hunters and guilds had suffered a devastating blow, but the real war was only just beginning.