The instant the Familiars appeared, the beasts halted in their tracks.

  Their fury was unmistakable.

  Fyro Warthogs and Necro Jackals frothed at the mouth like rabid dogs, snarling as their bodies trembled with barely restrained violence. From the Black-Screech Spiders, thick, foul-smelling fluid oozed along their fangs, hissing softly as it dripped onto the stone floor. From the opposite tunnel, dozens of chameleons emerged, their movements slow and deliberate. Like the beasts barring Adam’s path, their eyes burned with the same unfiltered hatred as they locked onto his trembling form.

  Encircled by his Familiars, Adam’s body shook faintly as an eerie laugh slipped past his lips.

  With Cataclysm gripped in both hands and eyes black as a moonless abyss, he resembled a demon dragged from the deepest pits of hell. Where the beasts radiated blind rage, Adam’s gaze held something far worse—detached, superior, and utterly devoid of fear.

  Then the jackals broke the silence with a sickening howl.

  Moments later, the warthogs answered with maddened squeals, and the chameleons and spiders surged forward, their movements stealthy and predatory.

  “Rip them to shreds,” Adam said calmly. “Make it quick.”

  Before the echo of his voice faded, Nokum and Salma were already in motion.

  Both wielding the power of Disaster-ranked Demonkins, devastation followed in their wake. Blood painted the ground wherever they passed. Salma impaled unfortunate jackals from multiple angles with its mace-like tail, each strike crushing bone and flesh alike. At the same time, it vomited torrents of crimson flame that erased everything in their path. Heat waves rolled outward from its massive body as it slaughtered with almost cheerful abandon.

  Nokum, by contrast, moved with lethal grace.

  Seizing the bones of a fallen chameleon, it fashioned them into a blade and carved through the horde. Each swing erased six or more beasts at once—spiders split apart, chameleons cleaved mid-lunge. Unlike Salma, not a single drop of blood or viscera touched Nokum’s body.

  As Nokum and Salma indulged in their atavistic slaughter, the remaining Familiars joined the fray, rapidly thinning the ranks of the beasts. Though their destructive power fell short of Nokum and Salma’s, they were still overwhelmingly superior.

  Adam watched the carnage with an eerie grin.

  Yet his gaze wasn’t fixed on the massacre itself. It drifted far beyond the battlefield, senses tuned elsewhere. Beneath the chaos, he felt it—the faint, rhythmic trembling of the earth.

  A larger horde was coming.

  They should arrive any moment now… Should I intercept them, or wait?

  His smile widened.

  Within seconds, Adam’s body began to fade, dissolving into nothingness. At the same time, the distant rumbling intensified, drawing the attention of the Familiars and the few remaining beasts of the first wave.

  Unbothered, the Familiars held their positions.

  Salma’s tail lashed eagerly in all directions, pulverizing nearby corpses as it awaited new prey. Nokum calmly tore the spine from a fallen warthog, examining it with idle interest. The other Familiars wiped blood from their claws using the remains of the dead. All of them waited—hungry.

  Then it came.

  From behind, the howls of hundreds of jackals erupted, accompanied by the thunderous advance of an equally massive group of chameleons.

  Salma trembled with excitement, its tail swinging harder, smashing corpses into paste. Nokum discarded the spine without ceremony. Neither wished to wait any longer.

  Salma charged first.

  Nokum moved in the opposite direction.

  A red blur streaked past them.

  Instinctively, both Demonkins stopped.

  What followed was slaughter.

  Soul-shaking screams tore through the dungeon as blood flowed like a river. On one side, beasts were mummified mid-motion; on the other, bodies imploded into shattered flesh and bone. Walls and floors were drenched in gore as the horde was erased in seconds.

  Nokum watched with undisguised delight.

  In less than ten seconds, a force of over two hundred had been reduced to fewer than fifty. To the Familiars’ eyes, Adam was nothing more than a streak of red—untraceable. Yet through their bond via the Omen, they felt him everywhere at once. Despite their superior rank, neither Nokum nor Salma could follow his speed.

  Five seconds later, the battlefield fell silent.

  Corpses carpeted the ground. Only the Familiars remained.

  Cataclysm reappeared, hovering above Nokum and Salma. Salma immediately attempted to bite the axes, while Nokum ignored it entirely, its gaze scanning the surroundings with quiet vigilance.

  The air behind them distorted without a sound.

  Adam emerged, his expression distant and unfocused.

  Nokum and the unranked Demonkins immediately dropped to their knees, heads bowed. Unable to mimic them, Salma sprawled flat on its stomach, stealing glances at Adam and Cataclysm while wagging its tail uncontrollably.

  Adam paid them no attention.

  The concentrated essence of the slain creatures gathered like a whirlpool above. Adam opened his mouth, and it surged forward.

  Then came a cascade of system notifications.

  [Title: Devourer Deactivated!]

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  [You have devoured 120 Omen Beings!]

  [You have eliminated all creatures in the dungeon!]

  [You have gained two new skills!]

  [Skill Acquired: Invisibility — Lv. 0]

  [Skill Acquired: Poison Resistance (Passive) — Restricted by Current Rank!]

  [You have gained extra unassigned stat points!]

  [Unassigned Stat Points: 10]

  [You have received 8 Omen Points!]

  [The dungeon has recognized you as a favored Omen Being!]

  [Omen has permitted you to upgrade the dungeon!]

  [You have begun the path of ???]

  [Connection to Omen has strengthened!]

  Adam smiled. “System—assign five points each to Strength and Agility.”

  [Agility: 33 (+5)]

  [Strength: 30 (+5)]

  He groaned softly as his muscles and bones realigned, power surging through his body.

  This is nice.

  “Adam,” the demonic voice warned, “don’t even think about upgrading the dungeon. One mistake, and we won’t escape this place.”

  “You don’t need to remind me,” he muttered. “I’m not an idiot. Tell me more about this blurred-out Path.”

  Silence.

  [You have expressed no interest in upgrading the dungeon.]

  [Omen Permission Revoked!]

  Adam stared at the notification briefly, then dismissed it.

  Poison Resistance—from the Jackals. Invisibility—from the Chameleons.

  A darker thought surfaced.

  What would happen if I devoured another Awakened—?

  He discarded it immediately.

  It was too dangerous a thought to nurture.

  His gaze shifted to the prostrating Familiars.

  One unranked Demonkin would’ve been enough to slaughter the horde.

  Salma wagged its tail harder as their eyes met.

  Adam chuckled. “Good work. You can devour the remains—”

  [Potential Sources of Danger Detected!]

  He frowned.

  Every dungeon dweller was dead. And yet—

  “System, send the Familiars to inventory.”

  They vanished without a sound.

  Adam adjusted his stance and activated Invisibility.

  His body dissolved from the feet upward—fracturing into shifting fragments of color—until nothing remained.

  Footsteps followed.

  Muted voices.

  A moment later, a ten-man squad emerged from the Rainbow Chameleon’s lair.

  Adam observed without moving.

  They wore spotless black armor, their gazes lingering on the carnage with undisguised shock.

  “Was it a territorial clash?” the tallest man muttered—the clear leader.

  “Looks like it,” another agreed. “Three different dungeon dwellers.”

  “There are Necro Jackals too,” someone added, pointing at scattered bones.

  Silence fell.

  “They ignored us earlier,” one man said slowly. “Rushed here despite provocation. And now… they’re all dead. None of this feels right.”

  “Opportunity doesn’t care about ‘right,’” another man said, stepping forward.

  “Whatever happened doesn’t matter. They’re dead. We’re here. The materials are ours.”

  Grins spread.

  “If we hurry, we’ll beat Gallien’s team back to Dratol,” he laughed.

  “The Armstrongs might even throw in a bonus.”

  Adam smiled invisibly.

  Raventhorn. Of course.

  “Take everything,” the leader ordered. “Quickly. I don’t like this place.”

  They moved fast.

  Minutes passed.

  The last man returned holding a Necro Jackal’s extracted eyes.

  “Alright—let’s—”

  Clap.

  Clap.

  Clap.

  They spun, weapons drawn.

  “Who’s there?!”

  “Show yourself!”

  “We’re Raventhorn—don’t fuck with us!”

  Adam laughed, dispelling Invisibility.

  “I hate to be that guy,” he said lightly, “but haven’t you heard? You shouldn’t take what belongs to others.”

  He advanced, eyes locked on the leader.

  “Who are you?” the man snapped.

  “No one important,” Adam replied pleasantly. “Think of me as a friend of Dominic’s.”

  The man’s expression curdled.

  “I have questions,” Adam continued. “Only one of you needs to answer.”

  He smiled wider.

  “Gentlemen—who will it be?”

  Silence.

  Then—Snap.

  Adam clicked his fingers.

  Familiars erupted behind them.

  Heads flew.

  Clean and instant.

  Nokum decapitated another before he could turn.

  The summons vanished before the bodies hit the ground.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Adam faced the sole survivor—the leader.

  “I suppose you’ll do.”

  The man staggered back, horror twisting his face.

  “One more step,” Adam warned softly, “and you join them.”

  Frozen, trembling.

  Adam stepped closer, ignoring the severed heads at his feet.

  “Are you willing to answer my questions?”

  The man nodded.

  “Good.” Adam smiled. “First, are you from Raventhorn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “The Armstrongs sent us,” he stammered. “To retrieve rare healing materials.”

  “For Dominic,” Adam supplied.

  Another nod.

  “What rank is Raventhorn’s guild leader?”

  The man hesitated.

  Adam’s gaze sharpened.

  “B-B-rank,” he whispered.

  Adam nodded.

  He dispelled the effects of Manipulator, his features settling back into their natural form.

  The man’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “It’s you?” he blurted out.

  Adam grinned. “I only had a hunch,” he said lightly. “But it seems you recognize me.”

  He stepped closer. “How do you know me?”

  “After the incident with Klien’s group, the guild leader suspected you might still be alive,” the man replied, choosing his words with care. “The Armstrongs shared that suspicion. They discreetly circulated your portrait among guild members.”

  “Let me guess,” Adam said. “A kill-on-sight order?”

  The man nodded, unease etched across his face.

  Adam chuckled. “So… how’s Dominic’s recovery progressing?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered quickly. “We departed for Targarth as soon as the mission was issued. I haven’t heard anything since.”

  Adam frowned inwardly.

  We’re already out of Dratol?

  He suppressed his surprise and continued calmly. “Is there a bounty on my head?”

  “Yes.”

  “Terms?”

  “Two million gold coins for your head,” the man said, then hesitated. “Twenty million… if you’re delivered alive.”

  Adam whistled softly. “That’s impressive,” he murmured. “I’m almost tempted to turn myself in.”

  The man said nothing.

  “So,” Adam continued, “who posted it?”

  He never once believed Raventhorn alone would offer such a sum. This had Armstrong written all over it.

  “Lord Armstrong’s second son,” the man replied. “He’s affiliated with the Reeves Dynasty.”

  Adam’s brows shot up.

  An Armstrong… in the Reeves Dynasty?

  A soft chuckle escaped him. Things just keep getting more interesting. And complicated.

  The Reeves Dynasty rivaled top-tier guilds like the Knights of Bordon, yet their membership was famously exclusive—restricted to those bearing the Reeves name.

  Unless…

  Marriage.

  It was plausible. One of the few ways outsiders could gain entry.

  Adam’s interest had first been piqued by the Reeves because of one name.

  Vicar.

  “What rank is he?” Adam asked quietly. “And how important is he within the dynasty?”

  “I’m not certain,” the man admitted after a pause. “But he could easily overpower our guild leader.”

  At least B-rank, Adam concluded, frowning.

  Silence stretched.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” Adam asked suddenly.

  The man swallowed. “Will you let me live?”

  Adam smirked. “Would you?”

  A bitter smile tugged at the man’s lips. “I won’t beg,” he muttered, his eyes slowly reddening.

  “They’ll find you eventually. And when they do, you’ll wish you’d died here.”

  “Anything else?” Adam asked pleasantly.

  “They’ll discover your true rank,” the man pressed. “You can’t keep hiding for—”

  “It seems you’ve said all you needed to,” Adam interrupted calmly.

  “Nokum.”

  The Familiar materialized instantly.

  The man’s expression collapsed into despair as the towering summon loomed over him.

  “Say hello to my friend,” Adam said with a grin. “You might remember him as Gallien.”

  Confusion and shock flickered in the man’s eyes—

  Then Nokum struck.

  The decapitation was clean.

  The Familiar vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  Adam exhaled softly. I need to grow stronger. There’s no telling what awaits me once I return to the academy.

  His gaze shifted to the corpses strewn across the dungeon floor.

  It would be a waste to leave them here…

  [You have successfully created 10 Familiars!]

  “System—send them to inventory.”

  The Familiars vanished instantly.

  Eighteen now, Adam thought with satisfaction. Soon, I’ll have my own personal army.

  His attention turned toward the path X had taken earlier.

  She should’ve reached the exit by now. I’d better catch up before she leaves me behind.

  Activating Stealth Mode, Adam exploded forward—vanishing down the tunnel in a terrifying burst of speed.