Chapter 32: The S-rank Boss
Velgrath’s shadow covered the northern battlefield.
For several moments after its emergence, the entire battlefield lost momentum. The monsters that had been attacking the second defense line lowered their bodies instinctively. Even the Qield’s Watchers stopped moving and lowered their heads slightly, not from fear, but because they recognized the hierarchy of the ruin.
Velgrath, the Crowbeast, looked toward Ormolio.
It did not need scouts or reports. The monsters already moving near the city were connected to the outbreak path, and the S-Rank Boss could sense the direction clearly. The city lights were still far away, but distance did not matter much to something capable of crossing the forest in minutes.
Its wings shifted once.
BOOOM
The force from that single wingbeat crushed the ground beneath it. Trees were ripped from their roots, broken weapons scattered, and wounded explorers were thrown backward across the battlefield. Then Velgrath rose into the sky.
It did not fly like an ordinary monster.
It crossed distance too quickly for the remaining explorers to properly follow. The battlefield, forest, outer roads, broken evacuation routes, and scattered monsters passed beneath its shadow in moments.
Then Ormolio saw the sky darken.
The final defense line near the outer northern approach was still forming when Velgrath arrived. Guards were dragging barriers into position, support relic users were preparing formation stones, and Spirit Users were layering defensive circles near the city walls. They had prepared for monster waves, B-Rank beasts, maybe even Qield’s Watchers.
They had not prepared for the Boss itself.
A young guard slowly lifted his head.
His spear slipped from his hand.
"...What is that?"
Velgrath hovered above the northern side of Ormolio with wings wide enough to cover part of the sky. Its black feather-like armor reflected faint Spirit light, and talons larger than carriages curled beneath its body. Its pale-gold eyes looked downward with no urgency.
Then someone screamed.
"S-RANK!"
The defense line reacted immediately.
"Barriers!"
"Raise everything!"
"Don’t look up! Form the wall!"
Support relic users activated formation stones. Defensive artifacts glowed across the ground. Spirit Users poured energy into layered barriers, stacking pale shields above the northern defense line.
Rovan Halbrecht stood among them.
Blood still leaked from the corner of his mouth after his earlier clash with the Qield’s Watcher. His armor was cracked, his arms trembled, and his Spirit reserves had already dropped too low for a proper extended battle.
But as the Ormolio Branch Master, he had no choice but to stand.
He raised his sword and shouted across the defense line.
"Don’t break formation!"
His voice forced several panicking explorers back into position.
"Every barrier above us! Support users, pour everything into the central layer!"
The explorers obeyed because there was nothing else to do. Running would only scatter them faster. Fighting Velgrath directly was impossible. Blocking the first attack was their only option, even if everyone there understood the chance of success was low.
Velgrath opened its beak.
At first, no sound came.
Only Spirit gathered.
A pale-gold sphere formed at the center of its opened beak. It started small, then expanded as more layers condensed inward. The surrounding air bent toward it, loose stones lifted from the ground, armor trembled, and the barriers below distorted before the attack even descended.
Rovan understood immediately.
They could not block it.
Even if every explorer sacrificed their remaining Spirit, even if every relic shattered at once, the difference in output was too large. Their formation had been built to resist waves, not a direct strike from an S-Rank Boss.
But there was no time to run.
The pale-gold sphere dropped.
It looked slow at first because of its size and density, but the distance disappeared almost instantly.
Booooom.
Sound vanished under the impact.
For one brief moment, the northern defense line was swallowed by white-gold light.
Then the barriers disappeared.
The first layer vanished immediately.
The second shattered without slowing the attack.
The third bent inward for half a breath before collapsing. Formation stones exploded, support relics shattered, and several support users died before they even understood which layer had failed.
More than half of the defense line was erased in one attack.
The result was not a normal battlefield loss. There were no proper bodies left in the center. Armor melted into flesh, weapons turned white from heat before vanishing, and the ground beneath the formation became a glowing crater.
Rovan saw the attack reach him.
For one final second, he raised his sword and pushed every remaining drop of Spirit into his body. His muscles tore under the forced output, and his blade glowed violently in his grip.
He did not believe he could survive.
But he still refused to kneel before Ormolio’s walls.
Then the light reached him.
Rovan Halbrecht disappeared without a final strike.
When the blast faded, only melted stone remained where he had stood.
Silence followed.
The northern defense line had become a crater filled with molten ground, broken relic fragments, and unrecognizable remains. Survivors crawled at the edges, too injured or shocked to understand why they had survived when the people beside them were gone.
Then the screaming began.
"My arm—! My arm!"
"Help! Someone help me!"
"Don’t touch the ground! Don’t touch it!"
One explorer tried to stand and collapsed when half-melted armor tore away from his skin. Another sat beside a pair of boots that still had legs inside them, staring without speaking. The blast had not only killed people. It had destroyed the defense structure itself.
Then the Qield’s Watchers arrived.
They moved through the broken defense line without hurry. One wounded B-Rank tried to raise a barrier, but the nearest Watcher broke it with one strike and tore him apart from shoulder to hip.
Another explorer crawled backward with one leg missing.
"No... no, please..."
The Watcher stepped on his chest and crushed him against the ground.
Below them, the lesser monsters followed.
Bloodmire Crawlers and other outbreak creatures swarmed the crater edges, crawling through smoke and broken bodies. They did not wait for the wounded to die before feeding. Half-burned limbs, melted armor, and injured explorers became food immediately.
One man screamed as three Crawlers latched onto what remained of his legs.
"Get them off! Get them off me!"
No one saved him.
There was no one left strong enough to try.
Far from the main line, Atlas was thrown to the ground by the shockwave.
Velgrath’s attack had not struck him directly. It had only passed through the battlefield far ahead and sent the remaining pressure outward. Even that was enough to knock him off his feet and blast dust and leaves across the northern road. The D-Rank explorers and civilians were thrown down as well.
Atlas could not breathe properly for several seconds.
His ears rang.
His vision blurred.
Then he slowly lifted his head.
Far in the distance, the white-gold light faded.
What remained was smoke, molten ground, and broken defense lines.
Atlas swallowed.
Not because of ordinary fear.
Because he understood the difference now.
If he had been closer, he would have disappeared. There would have been no struggle, no clever escape, no hidden Trait, no Codex trick. His current power meant nothing before an attack like that.
His fingers trembled faintly against the ground.
For the first time in a while, Atlas did not move immediately. His body had recognized the truth faster than his thoughts could organize it.
Death had passed near him.
He lowered his gaze toward the dirt beneath his hands.
His fingers curled.
The earth cracked faintly beneath his grip.
’I...’
His breathing became rough.
’I am still weak.’
That conclusion was simple, but it cut deeper than fear.
He had gained the Codex. He had raised his stats. He had assimilated Spirit Tails. He had killed monsters that would have destroyed his old self. Yet one attack from Velgrath had reduced all of that progress to almost nothing in his own mind.
He was still someone who had to hide in the dirt while stronger beings decided the shape of the battlefield.
His jaw tightened.
’I have to grow stronger.’
This was not ambition.
It was survival.
He needed enough power that he would never again be treated as a disposable body, never again be forced to hide helplessly while monsters, nobles, or royals moved above him.
’I have to become strong enough...’
His eyes lifted toward the distant sky.
’...that I never have to cower like this again.’
The Bloodbound Codex pulsed faintly inside his chest.
Atlas felt it.
silent and Hungry.
Almost pleased.
That reaction made his expression darken.
Near Ormolio’s northern defense line, Velgrath hovered above the destroyed formation.
The first Spirit Sphere had erased the defense structure, but the Crowbeast had not finished. Its massive head turned toward the city walls, and its beak opened again.
Pale-gold Spirit began gathering once more.
The remaining explorers lost what little courage they had left.
"No..."
"Run!"
"The city—!"
Some tried to raise barriers despite knowing it was useless. Others dropped their weapons and ran toward the gates. The Qield’s Watchers continued killing survivors beneath their master, while Crawlers kept feeding across the battlefield.
The second Spirit Sphere grew larger.
Denser.
If this attack landed on the city walls, Ormolio itself would take damage that could not be repaired quickly. Civilian districts, gate structures, defensive formations, and evacuation paths would all be affected at once.
Then a figure appeared on the battlefield.
No explosion.
No loud arrival.
No dramatic announcement.
He was simply there.
Standing in the middle of the ruined defense line, between the molten crater and Velgrath’s shadow.
His black attire shifted faintly beneath the pressure. His expression remained unreadable, and his hands rested loosely at his sides, as if he had arrived at an ordinary training ground instead of the remains of a massacre.
Mark.
The Revenant looked around calmly.
His gaze moved across the molten ground, the corpses, the broken relics, the Crawlers feeding on the wounded, and the Qield’s Watchers standing among the dead.
The Watchers stopped moving.
For the first time since entering Ormolio’s outskirts, they focused properly on someone below them.
Mark ignored them.
His gaze lifted toward Velgrath.
The second Spirit Sphere continued forming above.
Mark exhaled softly.
Then he spoke in a calm voice that carried through the ruined battlefield.
"I received the call from the Guild Master at midnight..."
His eyes moved briefly toward the destroyed defense line.
"Fortunately for you, I was passing close to this city, so I arrived rather quickly."
He paused.
The wind from Velgrath’s wings pulled at his black coat.
Then Mark’s eyes narrowed faintly.
"But..."
His gaze lowered toward the dead.
"...it looks like I arrived late, huh?"
