Chapter 76
The six remaining Lycans attacked together without hesitation, their massive bodies tearing across the battlefield with pure killing intent. To them, Nille was no longer simply another human intruding into their territory. He had become a threat to the very existence of the pack itself. The moment their Alpha sensed its authority being challenged, the entire Lycan force shifted into a near-frenzied state focused solely on exterminating him.
That was why the Lycans ignored the other students completely.
Even wounded first-years nearby were abandoned as the elite predators redirected themselves entirely toward Nille's position. More Lycans from the deeper battlefield began charging toward him the moment they sensed his killing intent spreading across the grasslands. Their instincts recognized danger, and their response was immediate: eliminate the source.
The pressure escalated violently.
One Lycan lunged low while another descended from above, claws extended toward his throat. Two more circled outward, attempting to trap him within overlapping attack angles. But Nille moved directly into the assault instead of retreating. A claw ripped through the air inches above his head as he stepped forward and drove an explosive punch into the first attacker's throat.
A sickening crack echoed across the battlefield.
The Lycan collapsed backward, choking on blood before Nille rotated instantly toward the next enemy. His jungle bolo flashed sideways in a brutal arc, severing an arm cleanly from another charging Lycan. Blood exploded across the dirt, yet even after losing its limb, the creature continued attacking in blind rage.
They were no longer fighting rationally.
Pack instinct had evolved into pure frenzy.
From afar, Instructor Kaori Takamura's expression finally hardened as she observed the battlefield shifting further out of control. More Lycans were emerging from the deeper Kobold army after sensing their Alpha being overwhelmed.
"…More are coming," she said quietly.
And they were.
Their growls echoed across the plains as additional Lycans rushed toward the conflict zone, unable to accept their king being hunted down before their eyes. The instructors immediately mobilized across the battlefield.
"Contain the outer wave!"
"Protect the first-years!"
Combat instructors surged forward, intercepting incoming Lycans before they could reinforce the Alpha pack completely. At the same time, the third- and fourth-year students finally began moving as well. Even the senior students could no longer ignore what they were witnessing.
A first-year student was standing against elite Lycans alone, and surviving.
"Move!" one fourth-year shouted as several seniors rushed toward Lin Yue Meiying's position to reinforce the collapsing battle sector.
But before they could reach Nille, the Kobolds stopped them.
The retreating Kobold army suddenly reorganized itself into a massive interception line, blocking the human students from advancing further toward the Lycan battlefield. Their snarls and screeches filled the air as they threw themselves toward the incoming senior students.
"They're blocking us?!"
"No… they're buying time!"
The realization spread quickly.
The Kobolds were intentionally preventing interference because the Lycan Alpha wanted Nille dead personally.
Meanwhile, at the center of the battlefield, the fight became monstrous.
Three Lycans attacked simultaneously. Nille ducked beneath the first strike while claws ripped through the air above him. He drove his shoulder into another attacker hard enough to break its balance before slamming his fist upward into its jaw.
Bone shattered instantly.
Before the creature could even collapse, a fourth Lycan crashed into him from the side with enough force to launch him several meters across the dirt.
Students watching from afar gasped in shock.
But Nille rolled across the ground and rose back onto his feet immediately.
No panic.
No hesitation.
Blood dripped slowly from the corner of his mouth now, staining part of his jaw and collar.
And then, he smiled.
The Lycans hesitated for the briefest moment.
Not because they feared weakness.
But because the human standing before them was smiling in the middle of the hunt.
Nyx observed silently from within his consciousness.
"Nervous system stable," she analyzed calmly. "Pain response acknowledged. Combat capability unaffected."
Another Lycan charged immediately afterward.
Nille rushed toward it instead.
Their collision shook the battlefield. The creature swung downward with enough force to crush stone itself, but Nille intercepted the arm directly using his reinforced gloves. The impact cracked the ground beneath his feet before he twisted violently.
A sharp snap echoed.
The Lycan's arm broke unnaturally sideways.
Before it could howl in pain, Nille's machete pierced straight through its neck in one brutal motion.
Blood sprayed across his face and clothes.
Still, he did not stop.
The remaining Lycans attacked even harder now, their movements becoming faster, more desperate, more violent. Because somewhere deep within their instincts, they had begun realizing something impossible.
Their Alpha…
might actually lose.
Far behind the battlefield line, Lin forced herself upright despite the exhaustion consuming her body. Weak traces of wind gathered around her trembling fingers as she kept her eyes fixed on Nille's distant figure.
"…Idiot," she whispered softly.
Yet despite her words, a faint smile appeared across her face.
Because even under overwhelming pressure…
even while standing alone against monsters stronger than himself…
Nille was still moving forward.
And slowly, terrifyingly, the battlefield itself had begun revolving around him.
Lin desperately wanted to move.
Every instinct in her body told her to stand, to return to the battlefield beside Nille, to fight with him the same way they had moments ago when their movements synchronized so naturally it felt as though they had trained together for years.
But her body refused.
The exhaustion from overusing her spiritual energy had finally reached its limit. Her breathing remained unstable, her muscles trembled from strain, and even maintaining simple wind currents now felt painfully difficult.
She could only watch.
And that frustrated her more than anything else.
Because once again, Nille was fighting alone.
Lin lowered her gaze briefly, fingers tightening weakly against the healing potion still in her hand. She hated the feeling settling inside her chest. Not fear.
Helplessness.
She had not wasted her years after awakening her powers. The moment her wind affinity manifested five years ago, she had devoted herself completely to mastering it. Professional trainers, spiritual instructors, controlled combat exercises, disciplined routines, she endured all of it without complaint.
She trained harder than most people around her realized.
Because she understood very early that talent alone was meaningless without refinement.
And yet—
despite those five years…
despite all the training…
she still felt herself falling short when standing beside Nille.
The realization hurt more than the exhaustion itself.
Especially because Nille never once treated her as weak.
That was what frustrated her the most.
Farther across the battlefield, the senior students who had attempted to advance toward Nille's position remained locked against the Kobold interception line. But even while fighting, many of them kept glancing toward the distant frontline where Nille continued battling the Lycans alone.
And the emotion spreading among them was not simple admiration.
It was frustration.
Because what they were witnessing made many of them feel painfully average.
Nille did not move like a first-year student.
He moved like a veteran who had already survived countless hunts.
Every strike carried intent.
Every movement flowed naturally into the next.
There was no wasted motion, no panic, no hesitation.
Even his awareness of the battlefield exceeded what many third- and fourth-years could manage under pressure.
One senior student clicked his tongue in irritation after watching Nille break another Lycan's attack pattern with brutal efficiency.
"…What kind of monster is that guy?"
Another remained silent for a moment before answering bitterly.
"We've only known him for a month…"
"And he already fights better than most of us."
That truth stung more than they wanted to admit.
Especially because Nille had appeared almost from nowhere.
A late-arriving first-year student with little public background, little social presence, and no established reputation inside the academy.
Yet now, he stood at the center of the battlefield while even upperclassmen struggled to keep pace with the situation surrounding him.
Among the observing students, one pair of eyes remained especially focused.
Trần Hữu Khang.
Unlike the others, his expression did not show admiration or frustration.
Only calculation.
The Vietnamese student watched Nille carefully from behind the battlefield line while small insect-like shadows moved subtly beneath the fabric of his sleeves. His sharp gaze followed every movement, every injury, every moment of vulnerability.
And despite being genuinely shocked by Nille's combat ability—
his intentions had not changed.
If anything, they became more dangerous.
Because now he understood something clearly.
Nille was not merely an obstacle.
He was a threat.
Especially to anyone who wished to approach Lin Yue Meiying.
Trần Hữu Khang's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed Lin's expression while she watched Nille fight alone. The concern in her gaze, the frustration, the emotional attachment she was trying to suppress, it was obvious enough for someone as observant as him to notice.
And he hated it.
Still, he remained patient.
Because unlike reckless students obsessed with direct confrontation, Trần Hữu Khang preferred subtlety.
Manipulation.
Timing.
And right now, the battlefield was still too unstable.
So he waited.
Silently.
Carefully.
Like a venomous insect hidden beneath fallen leaves.
Waiting for the exact moment when exhaustion, distraction, or opportunity would expose a weakness worth exploiting.
And while the battlefield continued shaking beneath the clash between Nille and the Lycans,
Trần Hữu Khang quietly prepared for his own move.
Trần Hữu Khang came from a lineage rarely discussed openly even within shamanic circles.
Among certain regions of old Vietnamese spiritual traditions, his bloodline was feared rather than respected, a lineage associated with Bùa Ngải practitioners, insect hexers capable of controlling parasitic creatures infused with spiritual corruption. Their techniques were not centered around direct combat or overwhelming force like elemental users or martial shamans.
Instead, they specialized in suffering.
Pain.
Mental collapse.
Decay that spread silently before the victim even realized they had been targeted.
From childhood, Trần Hữu Khang had been taught how to nurture spiritually altered insects, each one carrying specific properties tied to curses, emotional instability, infection, or nervous system disruption. Some induced hallucinations. Others caused paralysis. A few were capable of slowly eroding a target's sanity over time.
And among them, he possessed one forbidden specimen he had never publicly revealed inside the academy.
A black parasitic insect roughly the size of a fingernail, sealed within a carved container hanging beneath his sleeve.
Its purpose was simple:
Induce temporary madness.
Not ordinary rage.
Complete berserk instability.
The target's pain receptors, aggression, and survival instincts would spiral beyond control, forcing the victim into a state where friend and enemy became meaningless beneath overwhelming bloodlust.
Against humans, the insect was extremely dangerous.
Against unstable Malignants, it was catastrophic.
Which was exactly why Trần Hữu Khang smiled slightly as he observed the battlefield.
Because he no longer intended to target Nille directly.
That would be foolish.
Instead, he would turn the Lycan Alpha itself into the weapon.
If the Alpha completely lost control in the middle of combat, the resulting berserk state would force even the surrounding Lycans into greater frenzy. The battlefield would descend into uncontrollable chaos, and in that situation, Nille's death could easily appear as nothing more than an unfortunate casualty during an elite hunt.
A clean solution.
One difficult to trace back to him.
So when the instructors became increasingly focused on controlling the larger battlefield, Trần Hữu Khang quietly moved.
Carefully.
Patiently.
He slipped away from the instructor observation zones while the ongoing clashes distracted most of the battlefield's attention. Even the senior students remained too occupied with the Kobold interception line to notice his movement.
Keeping low, he circled around the outer edge of the battlefield instead of approaching directly.
His expression remained calm.
Controlled.
Only his fingers moved slightly beneath his sleeves, gently holding the sealed container housing the forbidden insect.
Ahead of him, the Lycan Alpha continued fighting Nille with growing desperation and rage. Its massive body was already covered in wounds, dark blood dripping heavily across the grasslands while its remaining pack members died one after another around it.
Still, it refused to retreat.
That stubbornness made the Alpha the perfect target.
Trần Hữu Khang stopped behind a ruined stone formation partially hidden beneath broken terrain. From there, he observed the battlefield carefully, waiting for the exact moment when the Alpha's movements aligned properly.
Timing mattered.
The insect needed direct attachment.
Even briefly.
And once embedded—
the madness would spread rapidly through the Lycan's nervous system.
He slowly opened the carved container.
A faint buzzing sound emerged.
Then the creature inside crawled upward.
Small.
Black.
Thin-legged.
Its body pulsed faintly with dark spiritual energy.
Even Trần Hữu Khang handled it carefully.
Because once released, control became uncertain.
Far ahead, Nille drove another brutal strike into one of the remaining Lycans while the Alpha roared violently across the battlefield.
Trần Hữu Khang's eyes narrowed.
"…A little longer," he murmured softly.
Then he waited.
Like a hidden parasite preparing to infect the battlefield itself.
Part of Trần Hữu Khang's growing hostility toward Nille came from something far more personal than simple rivalry.
It was because of Lin Yue Meiying.
Even before Nille fully awakened from his five-day coma after arriving on the cursed island, Trần Hữu Khang had already taken interest in Lin. Within the first-year students, especially among Section A1, her presence stood out immediately. Not only because of her appearance or talent, but because of the way she carried herself.
She was calm.
Confident.
And impossible to pressure.
Section A1 was filled with students considered "elite" by academy standards—individuals from influential families, powerful spiritual lineages, and prestigious backgrounds from different countries. Naturally, many within the class carried pride strong enough to create tension almost immediately after classes began.
Trần Hữu Khang himself had experienced that firsthand.
During the first few days of class, a minor altercation had occurred between him and several loud-mouthed students from A1 who looked down on his quiet nature and unusual spiritual practices. The disagreement nearly escalated into outright bullying when one of them attempted to publicly mock his insect-based abilities during a practical lecture.
But before the situation could worsen—
Lin Yue Meiying intervened.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
She simply stepped between them.
A soft flick of her wrist caused a compressed wave of wind pressure to sweep across the room hard enough to silence everyone instantly. Papers scattered. Chairs shifted slightly. The air itself became heavy.
Then Lin spoke.
Quietly.
"Enough."
That was all.
No shouting.
No threats.
Yet the atmosphere changed immediately.
Even the louder students backed down almost instinctively.
Because everyone in A1 already understood something very early:
Lin Yue Meiying could not be controlled.
From the very first day, she refused to let anyone dominate her class socially or spiritually. She spoke respectfully when respect was deserved, but she never tolerated arrogance directed toward herself or others around her.
And because her strength supported her confidence, the class naturally adjusted around her presence.
Even among the so-called elites of A1, Lin quietly established herself as someone nobody could casually push around.
That moment stayed with Trần Hữu Khang longer than he expected.
At first, it became admiration.
Then obsession.
Because unlike others who feared or avoided his abilities, Lin had looked directly at him without disgust, hesitation, or superiority.
She treated him normally.
And that alone had been enough for him to remember her.
Which was why seeing her slowly become closer to Nille irritated him far more than he wanted to admit.
Especially because Nille was not even from A1.
Not wealthy.
Not socially influential.
Not publicly recognized.
Yet somehow—
Lin's attention kept drifting toward him naturally.
And the more Trần Hữu Khang watched them together, the more the irritation inside him deepened into something darker.
Possessiveness.
Jealousy.
A quiet resentment he carefully hid beneath his calm expression.
Now, as he observed Lin watching Nille from afar with obvious concern while preparing his hidden insect curse in secret, that resentment finally hardened into intent.
Nille continued moving farther away from the others, deliberately drawing the remaining Lycans deeper into the open grasslands to ensure the safety of his exhausted team. Behind him, Lin and the others no longer had the strength to continue advancing. Their spiritual reserves were heavily drained, their bodies pushed close to their limits after surviving the brutal engagement.
So Nille created distance.
Every step he took pulled the battle farther from them.
The Lycans followed immediately.
Because by now, the pack no longer viewed him as ordinary prey.
They understood.
This human was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
The surviving Lycans no longer attacked recklessly like earlier in the battle. Their movements became cautious, coordinated, and intelligent. They circled him while observing carefully, searching for weaknesses instead of blindly charging.
At the center of them stood the Alpha.
Larger than before beneath the blood-soaked battlefield, its massive frame looked closer to a true werewolf than a Kobold evolution. Its dark fur was drenched in blood—some its own, most belonging to fallen pack members.
And unlike before, the Alpha now carried weapons.
A jagged cleaver-like blade rested in one hand while the other gripped a brutal iron spear reinforced with sharpened bone fragments. The creature's glowing eyes remained locked onto Nille with pure hatred and predatory focus.
It had stopped underestimating him completely.
The Alpha moved first.
Fast.
Far faster than before.
Its body vanished from sight for a brief instant before appearing directly within striking range. The spear thrust toward Nille's chest with terrifying precision.
Nille twisted aside narrowly.
The spear still tore across his shoulder, carving through cloth and flesh before the Alpha instantly retreated backward instead of overcommitting.
Smart.
Too smart.
Nille steadied his breathing while blood dripped slowly down his arm.
The wounds covering his body were proof enough already.
Malignants could be terrifyingly strong.
And this Lycan Alpha stood far above the others.
One mistake.
One lapse in focus.
That was enough to die here.
Nille understood that clearly.
Which was exactly why he never looked down on his enemies.
Especially not creatures that survived by hunting in realms far harsher than ordinary humans could imagine.
The Alpha circled him again while the remaining Lycans repositioned around the battlefield. Unlike earlier, they no longer rushed blindly. They waited for openings created by the Alpha itself.
A coordinated hunt.
The Alpha attacked again.
Its cleaver swung horizontally with enough force to split bone.
Nille ducked beneath the strike and countered immediately with a machete slash aimed toward the Alpha's ribs.
But the creature anticipated it.
It twisted away just enough for the blade to graze fur instead of flesh.
Then the pack attacked.
Two Lycans lunged from opposite sides simultaneously.
Nille reacted instantly.
His reinforced gloves intercepted the first claw strike while his body pivoted sharply toward the second attacker. A brutal knee strike shattered one Lycan's jaw before Nille drove his machete upward into its throat.
But the Alpha was already there.
The spear crashed toward his head.
Nille barely raised his arm in time.
The impact exploded against his guard hard enough to launch him backward across the dirt.
Pain surged through his muscles immediately.
The Alpha did not stop.
It pressed forward relentlessly, using its remaining pack members to force Nille into constant defensive movement. Every time he counterattacked, another Lycan attempted to flank him.
Every movement carried killing intent.
Every exchange threatened death.
From the distant battlefield line, even the instructors watching could tell the difference now.
This was no longer a hunt.
It was survival combat.
Nille wiped blood from his mouth slowly as he regained footing once more.
His breathing deepened.
His body hurt.
Cuts marked his arms, shoulders, and side. Bruises darkened beneath torn clothing where direct impacts had slipped through his defenses.
Yet his eyes remained steady.
Focused.
The Alpha growled lowly while tightening its grip on the spear.
Then, both moved at the same time.
The battlefield exploded.
The Alpha's spear thrust forward like lightning.
Nille sidestepped narrowly and drove forward instead of retreating. His fist crashed into the Alpha's chest hard enough to shake its entire frame, but the monster endured it and retaliated immediately with the cleaver.
Nille leaned backward just enough for the blade to skim past his throat.
Too close.
The Alpha spun violently, using momentum to drive its spear downward again.
Nille intercepted the shaft directly with both hands.
The ground beneath them cracked.
For a brief second, human and Malignant locked together in raw force.
The Alpha snarled furiously, its monstrous muscles expanding as it tried to overpower him.
But Nille did not back down.
Instead, he smiled faintly.
Not out of arrogance.
For a brief moment, the battlefield slowed.
Dust drifted across the blood-soaked grasslands while the surviving Lycans circled cautiously behind their Alpha. Farther in the distance, the larger Kobold army continued advancing slowly, their movements hesitant but relentless as they regrouped around the ongoing battle.
Nille steadied his breathing, his jungle bolo lowered slightly at his side while blood continued dripping from several wounds across his body.
Then—
the Lycan Alpha spoke.
"You…"
Its voice was deep and rough, distorted slightly by its monstrous throat, yet unmistakably intelligent.
"…what is your name, human?"
The sudden sound of coherent speech froze several nearby students and senior hunters who had managed to approach closer behind the battlefield line. Even some instructors narrowed their eyes immediately.
Because while evolved Malignants speaking was not impossible, it was extremely rare.
Especially in lower sectors.
Nille himself, however, showed no surprise at all.
He had already encountered creatures far stranger than this.
The Alpha slowly lifted its cleaver-like blade, its glowing yellow eyes locked directly onto him.
"You fight worthy," it growled. "I will take your head… and offer it to my king."
The surrounding Lycans snarled approvingly behind their leader.
Nille adjusted his stance calmly.
Then answered with the same straightforward honesty.
"Nille."
The Alpha stared at him for a moment.
Then suddenly laughed.
A deep, savage sound filled with violence and amusement.
"Good."
The creature slammed the butt of its spear against the ground.
"I am Varkhul."
The surviving Lycans behind it immediately lowered themselves slightly in acknowledgment of the name.
Varkhul the Blood Fang.
Leader of the eastern Lycan hunting pack within Sector 6.
Unlike ordinary Lycans driven mostly by instinct, Varkhul possessed tactical intelligence shaped through countless hunts. It valued strength openly, despised cowardice, and carried an almost warrior-like obsession with proving dominance through direct combat.
To Varkhul, killing was not simple feeding.
It was hierarchy.
Authority.
Proof of superiority.
And now,
Nille had earned its full acknowledgment as prey worthy of personal execution.
Varkhul rolled its shoulders slowly while blood dripped from several wounds across its massive body. Despite the injuries, its posture remained aggressive and confident.
"You kill many of my hunters," Varkhul growled. "Good. Strong prey should resist."
Its eyes narrowed dangerously afterward.
"But now…"
A low growl spread through the remaining Lycans.
"…you die."
The battlefield exploded again.
Varkhul moved first.
Faster than before.
Its spear thrust forward like a bolt of black lightning aimed directly toward Nille's throat. Nille twisted aside narrowly before immediately countering with a machete strike aimed at the Alpha's ribs.
CLANG.
Varkhul blocked it using the reinforced shaft of the spear before retaliating instantly with the cleaver.
The impact forced Nille backward several meters across the dirt.
The Alpha did not relent.
It pressed forward mercilessly while the remaining Lycans surged from behind, trying to overwhelm him through coordinated pressure. Their movements synchronized around Varkhul's attacks, striking whenever Nille's footing shifted or his guard opened slightly.
Nille responded with brutal precision.
A Lycan lunged from the left, he intercepted it mid-charge with an explosive kick that shattered its chest.
Another attacked from behind,
he pivoted instantly and buried the jungle bolo deep into its neck before tearing the blade free in a spray of blood.
But Varkhul remained the true threat.
Unlike the others, the Alpha adapted continuously.
Every exchange sharpened its movements further.
Every clash became more dangerous.
Their weapons collided repeatedly as sparks erupted across the battlefield. Spear against blade. Cleaver against reinforced gloves. Bone-shaking impacts echoed across the grasslands while the advancing Kobold army slowly closed in behind them like a dark tide.
Far away, the observing students could barely follow the speed of the fight anymore.
What they were witnessing no longer resembled a first-year hunt.
It resembled two veteran predators trying to kill each other before the battlefield itself collapsed around them.
Instructor Kaori Takamura immediately understood something was wrong.
She had encountered intelligent Lycans before during previous expeditions into Sector 6. Among evolved Malignants, Lycans were known to retain fragments of structured thinking, tactical reasoning, and even pack-based social systems far beyond ordinary beasts.
But this—
this was different.
An organized force numbering in the hundreds.
Coordinated movement.
Defined leadership.
A unified banner under a singular king.
That was not normal behavior for Sector 6.
Which meant something had changed.
Kaori narrowed her eyes toward the distant battlefield where Nille continued clashing violently against Varkhul while the larger army advanced slowly behind them.
"What caused this…" she muttered under her breath.
Then she suddenly raised her voice toward the battlefield.
"NILLE!"
Her spiritual reinforcement carried the shout far across the grasslands.
"If you can hear me, ask why they gathered!"
But the battle was already too distant.
Steel, claws, roaring winds, and the chaos of combat drowned out her words long before they could ever reach him.
Yet someone else heard it clearly.
Nyx.
Within Nille's consciousness, the dragon immediately processed the information while continuing to observe the battlefield through his senses.
Lycans were not mindless creatures.
They were intelligent, highly social, and fiercely protective of their own kind. Unlike feral werewolves driven entirely by instinct, Lycans retained structured thought even in transformed states. Many preserved fragments of culture, hierarchy, and personality.
For them to unite like this, something significant had influenced them.
Nyx immediately relayed Kaori's concern to Nille.
And Nille understood.
The next instant, Varkhul's spear crashed toward him again with enough force to split stone.
CLANG!
Nille did not try to overpower the impact directly.
Instead, he shifted his footing at the last second, using his smaller frame and flexible stance to redirect the Alpha's momentum rather than resist it head-on. The force pushed him backward across the dirt—
exactly as he intended.
The instant distance opened, Nille attacked.
He lowered himself into a crouched stance unfamiliar to the observing students, his posture compact and balanced as his jungle bolo swept outward in a wide horizontal arc aimed toward Varkhul's midsection.
The Alpha reacted immediately, blocking with its spear shaft.
But Nille's attack pattern changed instantly afterward.
The wide strike flowed into tight, compact movements delivered at brutal speed.
A short elbow strike.
A pivoting knee.
A compact slash aimed beneath the ribs.
The rhythm shifted unpredictably between long-range weapon control and close-quarter martial strikes, forcing Varkhul to continuously adjust its defenses.
The watching students stared in disbelief.
Because Varkhul responded.
Not like a beast.
Like a trained fighter.
The Lycan Alpha twisted around Nille's blade path before retaliating with the butt of its spear toward Nille's jaw. Nille ducked beneath it while Varkhul immediately transitioned into a spinning cleaver strike powerful enough to split the air audibly.
Their movements flowed violently across the battlefield.
Counter after counter.
Attack after attack.
Each trying to break the other's rhythm first.
Even the instructors watching from afar grew silent.
Because this no longer resembled a hunt between student and Malignant.
It looked like two warriors testing each other's combat mastery.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly during another clash.
Then he spoke during the brief opening between exchanges.
"Why gather under one flag?"
Varkhul's cleaver collided against Nille's reinforced gloves with explosive force before the Alpha shoved him backward several meters.
The Lycan leader growled lowly afterward. For a moment, it looked as though Varkhul would ignore the question entirely and continue the battle in silence. Yet after several tense seconds, the Alpha answered, not out of obedience, but out of respect earned through combat.
"A Dalaketnon came."
Nille's expression sharpened immediately.
Even while maintaining his stance, his attention shifted toward the Alpha's words. Around them, the battlefield remained tense. The surviving Lycans continued circling cautiously while Varkhul slowly dragged its massive spear across the blood-covered ground.
"With it…" Varkhul growled, "…a female enchanter."
Its glowing eyes narrowed with visible distrust.
"Name of Imto Dimas."
The moment Nille heard the surname, something inside him tightened instantly.
Dimas.
The same name tied to Urto Dimas, the imprisoned entity currently sealed inside Maruha Dalisay's domain.
That coincidence was too specific to ignore.
Even Nyx reacted immediately within his mind.
"That cannot be accidental," she warned coldly.
Nille silently agreed.
Spiritual bloodlines, especially among ancient supernatural families and cursed lineages, rarely shared names without connection. The chances of another Dimas appearing within Sector 6 while tied to a Dalaketnon movement were far too suspicious.
Varkhul's voice deepened further.
"It wore human shape…"
The Alpha's grip tightened around its spear.
"…but wrong."
Its tone carried genuine discomfort now, something unusual for a creature as violent and battle-hardened as a Lycan Alpha. Even the surrounding Lycans seemed visibly uneasy hearing the description spoken aloud again.
"The body moved smooth… too smooth," Varkhul continued. "Like joints bending where they should not."
Its fur bristled instinctively.
"Sometimes skin looked like bark."
"Sometimes flesh."
"Sometimes like reflection in dark water."
Nille remained silent while listening carefully.
The description itself sounded unstable, unnatural—as though the being was merely imitating humanity rather than truly possessing a human form.
Then Varkhul snarled again.
"Smelled wrong too."
That single statement made Nyx far more alert.
Creatures connected to ancient spirit forests, Dalaketnon bloodlines, and old fae-like entities relied heavily on illusion and concealment. If even Lycans instinctively distrusted the scent of the creature, then whatever Imto Dimas truly was likely existed far beyond an ordinary enchantment user.
Varkhul's eyes darkened.
"She smiled while speaking to our king."
The Alpha's claws dug into its weapon hard enough to crack part of the reinforced shaft.
"And every time she smiled…"
"…more warriors agreed with her."
The implication unsettled even Nille.
This was not conquest through force.
It was influence.
Manipulation subtle enough to sway an entire Lycan kingdom toward war.
Then Varkhul looked directly at Nille again.
"Our king trusts Apo Lakay."
The Alpha lowered its stance slightly.
"But many of us…"
Its growl deepened with visible irritation.
"…do not."
Behind them, the advancing Lycan and Kobold forces continued closing the distance slowly like an approaching tide of monsters gathering beneath a single banner.
Varkhul continued speaking between heavy breaths.
"They came to our lands."
"Spoke of war."
Its spear lowered toward Nille again.
"They warned our king…"
The Alpha's voice deepened further.
"…that the Vampire race would soon invade our territory."
Nille's eyes narrowed immediately.
"Apo Lakay spoke," Varkhul said. "Our king listened."
Then confusion briefly surfaced even within the Alpha's own expression.
"And for reasons unknown to us…"
The Lycan lowered its stance once more.
"…our king believed the Dalaketnon."
The tension lasted only a second longer.
Then Varkhul exploded forward again like a storm unleashed, ending the conversation through violence as its spear came crashing toward Nille's head with monstrous force.
Nille immediately jumped backward, sliding several meters across the blood-soaked ground before lowering himself into a defensive stance once more. His breathing had grown heavier now, his body marked by cuts, bruises, and spiritual exhaustion from continuously fighting the Lycans without rest.
Across from him, Varkhul remained equally worn down.
The massive Alpha's chest rose and fell heavily while dark blood dripped steadily from its wounds. Yet despite the exhaustion, its glowing eyes never left Nille for even a second.
The battlefield around them briefly slowed.
Not because the danger had disappeared—
but because both fighters had already reached the point where every movement carried lethal consequence.
Nille steadied his grip on the jungle bolo before speaking again.
"Do you believe them?"
The question caused Varkhul's posture to shift slightly.
For the first time since the battle began, the Alpha's aggression weakened just enough to reveal visible thought beneath its monstrous exterior.
The Lycan leader growled deeply.
Then answered honestly.
"Varkhul is warrior."
Its spear lowered slightly.
"Varkhul hates tricksters."
The Alpha's fur bristled with irritation afterward.
"King may be fooled."
Its glowing eyes narrowed toward the distant horizon beyond the battlefield.
"But Varkhul…"
The Alpha inhaled sharply.
"…has not smelled undead yet."
Its gaze returned toward Nille afterward.
"You humans…"
The Lycan's voice deepened.
"…are only ones that came."
For a brief moment, an unusual silence settled between them.
Not friendship.
Not trust.
But mutual recognition.
Two fighters acknowledging uncertainty within the chaos surrounding them.
And that exact moment, became the opportunity Trần Hữu Khang had been waiting for.
Hidden far along the outer battlefield line behind shattered stone and tall grass, the Vietnamese insect hexer narrowed his eyes coldly. His fingers slowly opened the carved container concealed beneath his sleeve.
Inside it, the black parasitic insect trembled violently as though responding to the battlefield's bloodlust.
Trần Hữu Khang watched Varkhul carefully.
The Alpha was distracted.
Its attention fully centered on Nille.
Perfect.
Without hesitation, Trần Hữu Khang whispered an incantation beneath his breath. Thin spiritual threads wrapped around the insect's body before it launched silently into the air like a living shadow.
Small.
Fast.
Almost impossible to notice amid the battlefield chaos.
The creature flew low across the blood-covered grass while both Nille and Varkhul remained locked in tense conversation.
Then, it struck.
The insect latched itself directly beneath the thick fur along the back of Varkhul's neck.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Varkhul merely twitched slightly as though sensing irritation.
Then its entire body froze.
The Alpha's muscles suddenly tightened unnaturally.
Its breathing became erratic.
And its glowing yellow eyes, began slowly turning crimson.