“Hey, Kompri… did he notice us?” the grating female voice asked cautiously.

  “He shouldn’t have. He’s merely suspicious. Suspicion is not discovery,” the shrill voice replied.

  “What do we do now? Aren’t we striking first?” the deep voice rumbled.

  “Not yet. Let’s see what he intends to do,” the sharp voice said coolly.

  They were utterly unafraid of being overheard, speaking with complete abandon.

  Glenn circled the towering tree before him, examining it from root to crown, until his gaze settled at its base.

  The roots looked as though they had only just pierced the soil—fresh earth turned outward, still loose and new.

  There was something off. Could this tree… move? A smile tugged at Glenn’s lips as an idea sparked.

  Under the bewildered gazes of the three hidden within, Glenn wrapped his arms around the trunk, forming a stance as though preparing to uproot it.

  “He’s not actually going to—”

  The shrill voice had barely begun when an immense pressure surged from the tree’s midsection. All three felt as though their chests were being crushed.

  Glenn’s muscles bulged, veins rising beneath his skin, his feet sinking inch by inch into the soil.

  Though the tree’s roots desperately dug downward in resistance, he wrenched it out of the earth by brute force.

  The moment the roots tore free, they writhed wildly like the limbs of an octopus.

  “So it is alive—and I’ve caught you,” Glenn said triumphantly, lifting the entire tree over his head.

  “Attack!”

  The tree dropped its disguise at once. The sharp voice rang from within as its rigid form softened into a mass of pliant flesh.

  The branches atop the crown curled inward like the fingers of a giant, clawing toward Glenn.

  Even the surrounding trees twisted in response—trunks bending, branches interlocking, converging from every direction.

  The forest became a living cage, collapsing inward to crush him.

  After a chorus of groaning wood, silence fell, and a nest-like structure formed at the center.

  From its tightly packed branches oozed three figures in black robes, squeezing out as though extruded from liquid.

  A short, skeletal man. A hideous woman with a face pocked like diseased bark. A tall, heavyset brute of a man.

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  “A mere apprentice with strength like that… I almost got strangled,” the short one hissed, rubbing his waist.

  “When we get back, we must make sure to properly torture him,” the ugly woman croaked, her voice harsh enough to make a child cry. “And record every bit of it to send to Da'off. He’ll be delighted… heh heh heh…”

  “And when we’re done, we’ll turn him into a meal. I’ll enjoy that very much.” The fat one bared his jagged, black-yellow teeth—worms wriggled faintly along his gums.

  “So you’re my teacher Da'off’s enemies, then.”

  A faint hum rose from beneath their feet—Glenn’s voice.

  “He can still talk? Seems the pressure wasn’t nearly enough.”

  The short man raised his right hand and clenched it.

  The nest constricted violently.

  Hearing nothing more, he broke into a smug laugh. “Heh heh… Don’t die just yet. I’d be terribly disappointed if we can’t savor your suffering, hahaha—”

  All three burst into laughter.

  Until the short man felt someone tap him lightly on the shoulder.

  His laughter died. He turned—puzzled.

  Glenn stood behind him, exhaling warmly onto his fist before driving it into the man’s face.

  The short man exploded into a splash of black fluid on the spot.

  His companions were drenched.

  It was the man’s signature survival trick—near-complete immunity to physical attacks.

  Realizing the situation was dire, the ugly woman and the fat man dissolved into black mist, reappearing some distance away.

  The puddle re-formed as the short man materialized again, shrieking, “You—how dare you lay hands on me!?”

  But before the words finished leaving his mouth, Glenn blurred forward at a speed the eye could scarcely follow.

  The short man split into two halves just in time to evade the second punch.

  Troublesome…

  Glenn skidded to a halt, ready to resume the assault—but the other two had already unleashed their spells.

  A massive maw materialized in the air, bristling with fangs, snapping down toward him.

  A glowing formation flared beneath his feet.

  He had no choice but to abandon his pursuit.

  “You can’t escape!” the ugly woman shrieked, drooling onto her robes.

  The runes followed Glenn’s every step. Before he could react, three spiraling yellow-green spikes burst upward; Glenn leapt skyward—

  Only to spring straight into their trap.

  Vines bristling with barbed thorns coiled around him, forming a sphere.

  Six spectral skulls appeared in the air, jaws opening to vomit torrents of flame, turning the thorn cage into a burning inferno.

  The three dark mages were certain they had gravely wounded him—

  Until a metal-gleaming bracer punched through the fireball, followed by a savage, fur-covered claw.

  A feral werewolf tore its way free.

  “He’s a werewolf!?” the ugly woman screeched.

  But the short man only sneered. “One little wolf—my lab is filled with pieces of them.”

  His contempt lasted all of two seconds.

  Because the werewolf slashed once— and five blazing crescent blades erupted from his claws, streaking toward them at a speed they had no hope of evading.

  In desperation, they deployed their strongest defenses.

  It made no difference.

  Their barriers tore like thin parchment beneath the flaming blades.

  Agony consumed them—flesh scorched, souls seared a hundredfold worse.

  Their screams split the forest air before they were hurled backward.

  They were not dead— The spell’s power depended on Glenn’s form, and in his third-tier lupine state the attack was far weaker than when he had wielded it at seventh tier.

  The three writhed on the ground, engulfed in ghostly flames that burned only the marked targets, harming nothing around them.

  Glenn approached the short man, crouching beside him.

  “Tell me the location of your hideout—and where you keep your belongings. I’ll give you a quick death and spare you this suffering.”

  He had intended to hand them over to Da'off, but decided it was unnecessary; he could simply inform the teacher later.

  A fourth-tier mage surely had wealth worth claiming—no sense leaving it to strangers.

  But the short man only screamed, deaf to Glenn’s words.

  Glenn sighed. “Don’t force me to use inhuman methods…”

  His fingertips lengthened into lupine claws.

  He gently tapped the short man’s forehead.