Beneath the shroud of night, two blazing streaks of light cut through the darkness, descending rapidly toward the Dragon Tusk Tribe.
Their radiance briefly illuminated the sleeping village, casting long, flickering shadows across the crude wooden huts.
But it was deep into the night—most of the Lizardmen were lost in slumber.
And thanks to Sukyu Juju's swift elimination of the gate sentries, the tribe remained oblivious to the impending assault.
High above, Sakeer hovered in midair, his left eye pressed against a monocle—a magic tool granting night vision.
Through its enchanted lens, he scanned the Lizardman village below.
According to Sukyu Juju, while the tribal chief held the highest authority, the true power rested with the priest-class Lizardmen—the elders who controlled rituals and sacred magic.
They typically resided in the deepest part of the village, in larger and more ornate huts, easily distinguishable from the homes of ordinary Lizardmen.
With the Archangel Flames' glow and the night vision enhancement, Sakeer quickly pinpointed several prominent wooden structures at the heart of the tribe.
Found them.
A silent command echoed in his mind.
Instantly, the two Archangel Flames flapped their fiery wings and dove toward the designated huts.
There was no need for intricate maneuvers—
With their innate defenses and blazing speed, they crashed straight through the wooden dwellings.
BOOM!
BOOM!
Twin explosions shattered the night's silence.
Debris flew in all directions as the force of impact obliterated the buildings, sending shockwaves through the Dragon Tusk Tribe.
Inside the wreckage, startled Lizardmen barely had time to react before searing blades of divine flamedescended upon them—
Slashing through bodies, purging life in an instant.
The shockwaves from the twin destructions jolted the entire tribe awake.
All across the village, Lizardmen stumbled out of their huts, their groggy confusion quickly morphing into terror.
And as the Archangel Flames turned toward new targets, continuing their onslaught, panic spread like wildfire.
"It's an intruder!!"
"Those monsters...!"
"Run!"
"HELP!!"
Screams of fear and confusion filled the air as the entire village erupted into chaos.
Within minutes—more than half the Lizardmen warriors had been drawn into the center of the village, their focus solely on the Archangel Flames.
Hiding in the shadows, Sukyu Juju and the Barghest took advantage of the distraction, slipping into the village interior unnoticed.
Their mission was clear—
Capture one Priest Lizardman alive. Kill the other.
Hovering above, Sakeer observed the battlefield.
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"They're completely unprepared."
His gaze swept over the tribe, noting that their reaction time was sluggish at best.
This confirmed a suspicion—
The Lizardmen who had fled from the Small Fang Tribe hadn't come here.
Instead, they had likely sought refuge in the stronger Greenclaw Tribe.
Which meant…
This battle would be even easier.
Sakeer wasn't particularly concerned about the Lizardmen warriors.
Even if they were physically strong, they were outmatched.
The Archangel Flames were Level 21.
The strongest Lizardman warrior, Zaryusu Shasha, wielder of "Frost Pain," was only Level 20.
And the average warrior?
Barely Level 11 or 12.
Comparable to common ogres.
No… the only real threat in this battle—
Were the Priest Lizardmen.
Within the village—
A Lizardman warrior, his muscular arms gripping a jagged greatsword, let out a feral roar and lunged at one of the Archangel Flames.
CLANG!
The warrior's blade met divine fire, sending a burst of sparks into the air.
But the impact force sent the warrior stumbling backward, his feet skidding against the ground.
The Archangel Flame raised its burning blade, preparing to deliver the finishing blow—
But before it could—
WHOOOSH!
A large net flew out from the shadows, snaring the Archangel mid-strike.
Immediately, multiple Lizardmen warriors roared—
"PULL!!"
Thick ropes tightened as the Lizardmen heaved, forcefully dragging the Archangel down from the sky.
The surrounding warriors seized the opportunity—
Weapons raised.
Attacks incoming.
Swords, spears, and clawslashed out simultaneously, their collective force threatening to overwhelm the celestial warrior.
However—
With a single fiery sweep, the Archangel Flame's swordcut through the net, incinerating the ropes in a burst of flame.
SHING!
Its divine blade arced through the air—
Slicing through the nearest warrior's chest.
Another fell.
But as the Archangel Flame struck, more Lizardmen pounced, their combined attacks crashing into its body.
And then—
The holy light flickered.
The first Archangel Flame... dissipated.
A cheer erupted from the Lizardman ranks—
But their victory was short-lived.
Because at that very moment—
A new streak of light descended from the heavens.
As the newly summoned Archangel Flame materialized before the Lizardmen, the brief wave of cheers that had erupted earlier was swiftly choked into silence.
Their moment of triumph—shattered.
The battle had raged for ten minutes, but Sakeer knew the true fight had ended much sooner.
"No... the real battle was over in just five minutes."
He lowered his gaze to the pocket watch in his hand, mentally calculating the combat duration.
There was no doubt—
The Archangel Flame was powerful, but its strength lay in one-on-one combat. Against overwhelming numbers, even an Archangel Flame would eventually fall.
Sakeer silently performed a combat power conversion in his mind.
A single Archangel Flame—A Level 21 warrior with flight capabilities.
The Lizardman warriors below—If converted to human terms, a force of trained elite soldiers.
No… stronger than that.
He recalled that Gazef's "Warrior Regiment", one of humanity's finest, had an average level of just 7.
And yet—
The average Lizardman warrior was above Level 10.
They possessed subhuman racial advantages—thicker skin, superior endurance.
At the very least, they were on par with fully armed elite human warriors.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
"The physical advantages of subhumans truly surpass humans."
Looking down at the battlefield, he noted something critical—
"Even though a large number of Lizardmen warriors are present, only about ten can engage an Archangel Flame in direct combat at any given time."
His mental calculations continued.
"One Lizardman warrior is equivalent to two elite human soldiers…"
"Twenty elite soldiers, through sheer attrition, can take down a single Archangel Flame."
His expression remained calm as he observed the skirmish below.
BOOM!
Another Archangel Flame fell, its divine light flickering out.
Without hesitation, Sakeer crushed another magic scroll in his palm.
WHOOSH!
A new Archangel Flame descended, its blazing form joining the fray.
Unlike the Small Fang Tribe, the battle against the Dragon Tusk Tribe provided valuable strategic insights.
Sakeer carefully analyzed the differences—
The Two Priest Lizardmen Had Yet to Intervene.
In the Small Fang Tribe, the priests had been controlled or eliminated early, ensuring the tribe's rapid collapse.
The Previous Tribe's Leadership Was Decimated Immediately.
The patriarch was defeated.
The priests were subdued.
Without leadership, the warriors lost their will to fight.
The Old Priest Had Foreseen Disaster.
Unlike here, the Small Fang Tribe's old priest had anticipated their downfall.
He had secretly evacuated a portion of their people beforehand.
At least one-third of the tribe escaped unharmed.
Sakeer had chosen not to pursue them.
Now, however—
There would be no escape for the Dragon Tusk Tribe.
The battlefield burned with an intangible tension.
The Archangel Flames did not tire.
They did not fear.
They did not hesitate.
But the Lizardmen did.
They fought desperately, even sacrificing their own comrades just to bring down a single angel—
Only for another to appear moments later.
They were fighting against something… unstoppable.
And now, for the first time, fear began to settle in.
"What are these armored, winged creatures?"
"Where did they come from?"
"Why have they appeared in our tribe?"
Whispers of doubt spread through the Lizardman ranks.
Something was wrong.
"Why haven't the two priest elders appeared?"
The warriors began glancing around, seeking reassurance—
But there was none.
"Don't be afraid!"
A single Lizardman warrior roared, trying to rally his brethren.
"The ancestors watch over us! Fight!!"
"RAHHH!!"
For a fleeting moment, the warriors' spirits reignited.
But it was short-lived.
The Lizardman warrior who had called for courage swung his greatsword, managing to slay another Archangel Flame—
But he was panting heavily, his strength waning.
WHOOSH—
A new divine light descended from the heavens.
A new Archangel Flame took the place of the fallen.
Despair.
The glow of fear crept into the Lizardmen's reptilian eyes.
They weren't afraid of a strong enemy.
They were afraid of something they could not kill.
Something unknown.
Their warriors had fought bravely, but…
This was a battle they could never win.
Then—
A terrified wail erupted from the depths of the tribe.
"The patriarch is dead!"
"The priest is dead—!"
A chill ran through the spines of every Lizardman present.
SOU! SOU!
The two remaining Archangel Flamesswooped down, their flaming swords slicing through the enemy ranks.
The warriors' final line of defense—already on the verge of collapse—
Shattered instantly.
One Lizardman turned to flee—
And in an instant, panic spread like wildfire.
"RUN!"
"We can't win!"
Like dominoes falling, fear consumed them.
The orderly battle formation dissolved, and what remained was a stampede of fleeing Lizardmen, scrambling to escape the carnage.
High above, Sakeer observed the battlefield in silence.
A single glance was enough.
"It's over."
His fingers loosened around a remaining scroll, letting it fall back into his item box.
No further summons were needed.
Bringing his hands to his temples, he rubbed them gently, as if soothing an ache.
Eight Archangel Flames.
One hour of battle.
Eight third-tier "Angel Summoning" scrolls consumed.
At the start of the fight, the Lizardman warriors had coordinated well, managing to take down each Archangel Flame quickly.
But as their numbers dwindled—
Their resistance crumbled.
And now—
The Dragon Tusk Tribe had fallen.
Early morning.
Deep within the Dragon Tusk Tribe, the only surviving priest Lizardman led Sakeer through the remnants of their fallen settlement. Their destination?
An inconspicuous-looking pot tucked away in the shadows.
The container stood over one meter tall, its caliber spanning nearly 80 centimeters. Inside, a murky liquid sloshed gently, filling the air with a faint alcoholic scent.
Sakeer's gaze lingered on the ordinary-looking pot, an intrigued expression crossing his face.
This is one of the four treasures of the Lizardmen—the "Great Wine Pot."
At first glance, it appeared unremarkable, resembling a simple pottery container. Yet, upon closer inspection, the material seemed… off. It wasn't just clay.
Raising his hand, he activated a skill.
"Item Identification."
A soft glow flickered as the magic took effect.
[Item Information]Name: Magic Item - Great Wine Pot
Level: Advanced (31~40)
Restrictions: None
Effect: Produces an endless supply of alcohol.
Description: A magical pot capable of creating high-quality wine anytime, anywhere—but only for certain races.
Sakeer raised an eyebrow.
"A high-grade magical artifact?"
He hadn't expected something with no combat or support functions to be classified at such a high level.
Curious, he stepped forward, scooped up a small amount of the mysterious wine, and brought it to his nose.
A faint fruity aroma drifted from the liquid.
He took a sip—
Bitter. Astringent. Weak in alcohol.
Sakeer frowned slightly and gave his verdict.
"Doesn't taste great."
Beside him, a low growl rumbled.
The Barghest, standing at his side, sniffed the air with curiosity, its red eyes locked onto the Great Wine Pot.
Sakeer smirked and held out the remainder of his drink.
"You want a taste?"
The Barghest gave an eager whuff, lapping at the liquid with its ghostly tongue.
The bone chains rattled on its body as it wagged its tail—an unmistakable sign of approval.
Sakeer chuckled.
"Looks like you like it."
Without hesitation, he placed a hand on the massive jug.
WHOOSH.
In an instant, the "Great Wine Pot" vanished, securely stored within his Item Box.
Though not a combat-oriented item, it had its uses—especially in harsh environments. If faced with a water shortage, this magical jug could act as an infinite source of liquid.
Satisfied with his acquisition, he turned toward the priest Lizardman.
"Alright. Now, tell me everything you know about your tribe's magic."
Sakeer hadn't spared the priest's life out of mercy—he wanted knowledge.
And as the Lizardman priest began his explanation, Sakeer's expression gradually shifted.
The magical knowledge of this tribe… far exceeded that of the Small Fang Tribe.
It made sense.
Years ago, during the Lizardmen Tribal War, the Dragon Tusk Tribe had chosen not to participate in the conflict. Instead, they absorbed the remnants of two defeated Lizardmen tribes, including their population and accumulated knowledge.
A wise decision.
This tribe had grown stronger not through war, but by gathering knowledge and power from others.
Sakeer closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled.
"I see. Well then, we'll stay put until the other Lizardmen tribes arrive."
His gaze flickered toward his status panel.
[Experience Slot: 225,775 / 70,000]
Sakeer did a quick mental calculation.
Currently, he had accumulated over 220,000 experience points.
Given the current increase of 10,000 per level, he estimated he would need a total of 340,000 XP to max out his "Magic Swordsman" class to Level 5.
He was still short by 110,000 XP.
Not far now.
October 12th
Greenclaw Tribe – Council Chamber
Within a solemn wooden hall, the leaders of the Greenclaw Tribe gathered.
The air inside was stifling, thick with an unspoken tension.
At the center of the room sat the tribe's five priest Lizardmen, their expressions grim.
To their side stood Zaryusu Shasha, captain of the hunting squad and wielder of the Frost Pain.
Beside him was Shasuryu Shasha, the Green Claw patriarch, Zaryusu's elder brother, a warrior whose strength rivaled Zaryusu.
He had fought and triumphed through numerous challenges to stand here today.
This was a gathering of the tribe's most powerful figures.
And yet—
The oppressive silence remained unbroken.
Even now, despite all the evidence, many in the room still found it difficult to believe.
"The Small Fang Tribe… and the Dragon Tusk Tribe… are gone."
Two entire tribes—eradicated.
It was understandable for the weaker Small Fang Tribe to fall. They had suffered heavy losses in the last tribal war and never fully recovered.
But the Dragon Tusk Tribe?
They had over 120 Lizardman warriors.
They were as strong as the Greenclaw Tribe.
Yet, they were wiped out.
A deep, rasping voice finally shattered the tense silence.
"What of the survivors?"
One of the oldest priests turned his gaze toward his fellow elders.
"Have the refugees from the Small Fang Tribe and the Dragon Tusk Tribe been accounted for?"