Chapter 1351: A Better Thrall
Seeing both soulless thralls locked down, Ethan couldn’t keep the worry off his face.
Dopey was fine. Dopey’s body was absurdly tough, and his base strength was ridiculous. They could restrain him, sure, but their attacks weren’t really doing meaningful damage.
Rocky was different.
Rocky was only peak Tier 29.
After being turned into a thrall, he’d gotten a major boost—close to S-Stage strength—but "close" wasn’t the same as actually crossing into Stage S (Tier 30). He didn’t have the true Tier 30 toolkit, and against a lineup like this, he was clearly starting to strain.
At least the Winged Clan’s Tier 29 heavy hitters were focusing Dopey. Rocky’s side was a little lighter. If those top-tier monsters had piled onto Rocky too, he probably would’ve folded already.
Even so, Rocky was in bad shape.
Dozens of Gale Binds had him cinched tight. Wind-type attacks kept crashing into him like endless blades. All he could do was keep stacking and reinforcing Earth Ward, pouring everything into defense with no room to counter.
If this kept up, something was going to give.
Ethan wanted to help—badly—but this was a tier of battle he couldn’t physically enter.
There were over two hundred Winged Clan elites, and basically all of them were stronger than him.
He might have the burst damage to one-shot a Tier 26, but his defense was still stuck around Tier 23. If he got dragged into that mess, he’d get deleted in seconds.
Even Absolute Stasis wouldn’t let him pull Rocky out under dozens of Gale Binds.
Then—
Dopey tore free.
His silhouette ripped out of the storm like it had never mattered, and in the same breath he blinked right in front of a Tier 29 Winged Clan elite.
Dopey’s fist drove forward.
The Winged Clan elite’s heart lurched. He didn’t dare block. With a frantic wingbeat, he tried to retreat—
Dopey was faster.
Dopey grabbed him by the wing and yanked.
Hard.
The wing came off with a wet rip. Blood sprayed.
"Aaagh—!"
The Winged Clan elite dropped out of the air like a stone.
Boom.
Dopey came down on him and stamped once.
Not a dramatic stomp—just a simple, brutal one.
It crushed everything inside. The body went limp instantly.
"Good shit, Dopey!" Ethan shouted, relief and excitement punching through him.
Yeah. Dopey was still Dopey.
The surrounding Winged Clan fighters visibly flinched. Their fear of Dopey spiked, fast.
"Send more people!" the winged woman ordered, face tight. "This one’s too strong!"
One of her subordinates spoke up urgently. "Captain, we should kill the human first. He’s probably the master controlling the thralls. If he dies, the thralls fall apart!"
"That makes sense." She nodded once.
Then she turned and said, "You handle this. I’ll go kill him."
And she shot off toward Ethan.
"..." The one who’d suggested it went blank in the face.
He’d meant someone else should go—preferably him not included. Fighting those two thralls was a great way to die. Chasing down a human who wasn’t even Stage A yet? That was supposed to be the easy job.
Instead, the captain took the easy job for herself.
"Captain, please hurry!" he yelled after her back—then swallowed his resentment and started barking orders, doubling down on full-spectrum control against the thralls.
The winged woman appeared in front of Ethan like a teleport, closing the distance in a blink.
No warning. No posturing.
She simply swung her hand and launched a Cyclone Blade straight at him.
Ethan teleported away instantly and shouted, "Hey! You psycho—didn’t you say you’d kill me last? So the Winged Clan are just a bunch of liars!"
"Lies!" Her expression turned sharp with offense. "The Winged Clan always keeps its word!"
"Then what do you call this?" Ethan snapped back. "You haven’t killed those two yet and you’re coming for me. If that’s not breaking your word, what is?"
"They—" she started.
Then forced it out like it was obvious. "They’re just soulless thralls. They don’t count."
"They’re still up and moving, aren’t they?" Ethan shot back. "Don’t make excuses for being full of crap."
"You...!" For a moment, she actually didn’t have an answer.
Only then did she realize what had happened—Ethan’s "giving up" act earlier had been a trap. He’d maneuvered her into a corner where her pride had to answer.
A human might’ve ignored him. Weaklings didn’t get a vote.
But the Winged Clan were proud to the bone, and they treated their "honor" like a law of nature.
And now she was hesitating.
Ethan pressed while he had the opening. "Go help them. If you can kill my two ’companions,’ killing me will be easy, right?"
She looked back toward the chaotic fight... then back at Ethan.
And after a beat, she actually turned and flew back.
"Hmph. I’ll kill those two thralls first, then come back for you," she said coldly. "Don’t think about running. I’ve placed a mark on you. Wherever you go, I’ll find you."
She vanished toward the battlefield.
Ethan stared after her, stunned.
"Seriously... she fell for that?"
Then his surprise sharpened into unease.
"Wait. Mark?" he muttered. "When the hell did she mark me?"
He activated True Sight and scanned himself inch by inch.
Finally, at his chest, he caught it—a thin, invisible smear of energy, like a brand you couldn’t see unless you knew exactly how to look.
"...It’s real." Ethan frowned. "And I didn’t even notice when she did it."
He exhaled.
"Whatever. Not touching it right now. Last thing I need is her suddenly coming back."
He didn’t like admitting it, but the truth sat heavy in his gut:
If that woman truly committed to killing him, he wasn’t sure he could escape her.
On the other side...
When the captain flew back, the Winged Clan fighters all looked a little dazed.
"Captain... why’d you come back?" the one who’d spoken earlier asked, genuinely confused.
"We kill these two soulless thralls first," the woman said, face like ice.
"But wouldn’t killing that human be easier—"
"I said," she snapped, voice slicing, "we kill the two soulless thralls first. Do you not understand me?"
Her eyes flashed. "Or what—do you think all of us can’t kill two soulless thralls?"
She was already furious, and that question lit the fuse.
"Okay—okay," the Winged Clan fighter said immediately, backing off. He didn’t dare argue another word.
Dopey was dragged back into the storm’s core, the cyclone chewing at him from every angle.
Rocky, meanwhile, hadn’t managed to break free even once. Not from the beginning until now.
The battle ground on.
Every so often, Dopey would rip himself out of the storm, flash to the edge, and smash one or two Winged Clan elites into paste—only to get sucked right back into the cyclone a moment later.
Rocky’s condition just kept worsening.
Watching it, Ethan’s mood sank like a stone.
He could use Absolute Stasis to pick off one or two targets, but it wouldn’t change the overall situation.
At his current level, even if he went all-out with Annihilation Strike, he could maybe kill a Tier 27—maybe—and even then it wasn’t guaranteed to be a clean one-shot. He’d never actually killed a Tier 27 powerhouse before.
And Tier 27-level opponents? There were plenty of them here.
He simply couldn’t shift the balance.
Right now, the only real hope was Dopey.
At least Chris and the others should’ve already gotten away. If this turned into a loss, Ethan’s only option would be to run.
Dopey could probably escape.
Rocky... Rocky might not.
But Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a colder thought sliding into place.
If Rocky really went down here, fine.
He’d just use this winged woman to replace him.
She was stronger than Rocky, and she could fly. If Ethan turned her into a soulless thrall... she’d even double as a flying mount when he felt like it.
Honestly?
That didn’t sound bad at all.
