Without another word, Ethan and Tara leaped into action – both activating their [Hide] skill to move unseen under the cover of the gradually descending dark of night. The catgirl was a blur of shadow and speed, while Ethan’s massive form moved with eerie silence across the craggy terrain. He reached the north gate, his long legs carrying him swiftly over the rocky ground, his pale form blending into the cold, moonlit night.

As he approached, two guards stood at their post, sharing a casual conversation. They never saw him coming.

In a single fluid motion, Ethan extended his poisonous blade and pierced right through the neck of the first guard. The man gurgled, his body convulsing as venom spread through his veins. The second guard barely had time to draw his sword before Ethan’s other limb shot forward, impaling him through the chest.

He tossed the lifeless body aside and entered the camp, his eyes locking onto the human overlords who continued to bark orders at the hybrids. Tara was already at work near the barracks, moving like a phantom, her blades cutting through armor and flesh with precision. She moved in and out of the shadows, leaving behind only the silent bodies of her enemies.

The camp exploded into chaos as Tara cut through the barracks, slashing down soldiers as if they were nothing more than straw dummies. Meanwhile, Ethan tore into the heart of the camp, his monstrous form wreaking havoc among the soldiers who scrambled to defend themselves. They tried to mount a counterattack, but they were no match for the Pale Lord.

"Over here!" one of the human overseers yelled, pointing his sword at Ethan. "Kill the monster!"

[Enemies identified]

Human Overseer (LVL 10)

HP: 50/50

WILL: 10/10

Barely even worth my time...

The soldiers surrounded Ethan, but it was a futile effort. With a growl, he reared up on his hind legs and activated his petrification coating, sweeping his vibrating scimitar across the battlefield. The soldiers closest to him froze, their limbs locking up as terror spread across their faces. Soon, such terror was the last expression they ever wore as their bodies turned to dark, corrupted stone.

Ethan’s claws slashed through them with ease, blood and rock splattering against the dirt. Those who could still move tried to flee, but Tara was there to cut them down, her movements a deadly dance of whirring blades.

“Hah!” the catgirl screamed against the backdrop of the rising moon. “This ain’t a battle. This is sport!”

Those Ethan didn’t catch with his petrification were easily dealt with through his new [Enweb] skill. Their dexterity obviously didn’t account for much – their movements became slow, sluggish, and cumbersome. Their stuck limbs made to slash at the legs of the demon who had come among them only to find that they moved as though encased in treacle. It was child’s play for Ethan to relieve them of this burden. Permanently.

His Poison Coating finished those who made it to the edges of the camp, their blood bubbling and frothing with Rachneros's corruption until they fell, whooping coughs wracking their chests, clawing at their bellies where Ethan's poison was surging up through their systems. Their bodies broke, and ruptured, and bled. Slowly.

Within minutes, the camp was reduced to a slaughterhouse, human overlords and soldiers lying in twisted heaps. The hybrids, still trapped in their cages, watched in stunned silence as their captors were eviscerated before their eyes.

Tara stood panting, wiping the blood off her blade with the cloak of a fallen soldier. Pointing at the hybrids with a blade wreathed in the blood of their captors, she shouted, “See that? That’s what the Archon can do.”

One cloaked hybrid – a Minxit just like Tara – came forward, shambling as his shackles shook against his aging limbs.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Sister...” he breathed. “Is... is it really him?”

“You better believe it, Sis,” she replied as she slashed through the Minxit’s chains with a single swipe. “And this time, he’s here to stay.”

Ethan, covered in the blood of the fallen, surveyed the carnage with cold satisfaction. Meanwhile, the hybrid prisoners had now dropped their rocks and minerals, some of them prostrating themselves before their bloody god, hailing him as their savior.

Y’know... a guy could get used to this.

Ethan wasn’t sure if it was his own bloodlust talking or the mind of Rachneros suddenly coming back to its host and affecting him, but he started to feel a distinct sense of enjoyment at watching each human fall before him.

It was like watching his old work colleagues die in agony. He'd had those thoughts - anyone would. No, he'd never act on them, but it wasn't unnatural to want to see the indolent and the wasteful take a dirt nap. He'd been the one picking up their slack for years on end, never complaining, ever the competent, consummate professional, just like his parents had always wanted him to be.

And it had gained him - nothing.

But here, he realized something as he looked down at those hybrids he’d just saved: they’d be devoted to him now. Entirely within his grasp. The power of being a messiah was intoxicating, he had to admit. Even if he was a monstrous one.

On earth, he'd been born to be nothing. Here, he was destined for greatness by nothing more than the blood that flowed in his corrupted veins.

A general alarm suddenly sounded nearby – one of the human overseers in the burning tower that was their headquarters was ringing a bell and signaling a general retreat.

“Those of you who value your lives – RUN! Bring word to the King! To the Greycloaks! The – that’s the Archo-!”

The guard never finished his cry. Ethan’s elongated limb found his neck and clipped it, sending his head twirling into the darkness of night. Then, with the hybrids singing his praises at his back, he leaped after the humans who were trying to run.

[Dive]

He crashed into a cluster of guards – ending their lives as his bulbous form broke every bone in their bodies, crumpling their armor like paper and shredding through their skin. The attack left a crater in the earth that trapped the survivors, who tried scrambling away at its edges in vain.

Spirit Cores: 200

More, Ethan thought. I need... more.

His hunger was ravenous. Sys was nowhere to be heard. Or, if he was saying anything, Ethan's mind had gone to a place where he could no longer hear the prattling of his System guide.

With each cut, he felt the power of the humans’ departing spirits surge through his new, muscular limbs, feeding the black heart at the center of his being. The humans who made it to the lip of the crater found themselves enwebbed – a little contingency Ethan had set up just in case any slavers tried to escape his wrath. They could do nothing but watch as the grim specter of eight-legged death came upon them.

Now, Ethan barely heard the screams.

Spirit Cores: 250

Not enough, his mind raged. More. I need...

His eyes caught sight of one cloaked human who’d managed to resist his webbing. The man sprinted for dear life into the treeline beyond the burning camp, carrying something in his arms – probably valuables pilfered from the hybrids he’d lorded over during his time here.

“Ethan!” Tara shouted. “Want me to get him?”

“Nah!” the Archon shouted back. “He’s mine.”

Ethan chased him into the trees and then picked his moment to strike. With a single flourish of both his blades, the cloaked head of the runner came flying off, spinning in a geyser of blood that painted the leaves of the forest a dark crimson. He fell in a crumpled mess of gore, leaving his wrapped package to wriggle free.

Ethan stood over the body and watched the strange object move – until, through the diminishing red haze of his rage, he saw what the ‘package’ was.

A boy.

A human boy who couldn’t have been more than seven years old, who had been bundled up in what must have been his father’s arms.

The boy cried out, his pudgy hands reaching toward his father’s corpse, eyes and nose dripping with tears and snot. And Ethan stood, mute, watching as the tragic end of the boy’s innocence occurred right in front of him.

This... fuck. This shit’s getting dark. Sys, tell me a joke or something, huh?

You’re the joker here, Archon.

Go on, say something funny.

Ethan couldn’t oblige. He looked down at the boy and saw the sadness in the child’s eyes suddenly give way to vibrant, all-consuming anger. The child's eyes flitted to the form of the great beast towering above him like a murderous god.

Then, he reached for the sword nestled in his father’s belt, and Sys did the job Ethan told him to do:

[Enemy Identified]

Human child [LVL 2]

Enemy...

Before Ethan could think anything more, the boy ran at him, swinging like a madman.