Grin the scout adjusted the strap on his chest plate, muttering under his breath about its poor fit, the stupid job, and the inbred immortals that had contracted him.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here—not this deep into the cursed frontier. But he was desperate. He needed the money. A mishap with the organisation of thieves had forced him to switch careers lest he be killed for his crimes and grievances. He had joined the hunters organisation only six months ago under their strict orders, and this was his first ‘real’ assignment. The older hunters had told him to fall back and stay safe. But the Organisation of Thieves had eyes everywhere—even here. He had to do his job.

  He had to steal whatever it was the noble bastards were after.

  His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, fingers flexing nervously. The weapon had belonged to his first teammate, a man who wouldn’t miss it much due to being both stripped of his earthly possessions and buried on the south east edge of the city’s underbelly. The weapons grip felt unfamiliar, awkward, even after six months. It was a far cry from his brass knuckled long-knife.

  It would have to d—

  Grin froze.

  A rustle broke through the stillness.

  A tendril erupted from the underbrush.

  It pierced his chest.

  It hoisted him into the air.

  A trainee spun at the sound of movement nearby. His blade was still in its sheath, his hand trembling as it grasped the hilt.

  A tendril lashed out from the darkness.

  It coiled around his leg.

  It yanked him into the underbrush.

  It coiled further and tighter around his leg to hug his waist, its slick surface tightening painfully against his skin. He cried out, scrambling to reach the knife at his belt, but his hands fumbled uselessly. The tendril yanked him backward, dragging him across the uneven ground. His hand stretched toward his sword. His fingers scraped at the hilt, but the tendril pulled tighter, until all he could do was scream as he fell into the grotesque, shifting mound.

  His body sagged, blood seeping from the wound as the tendril retracted. His companions turned in time to see him vanish into the unseen, pulsing mass of the Bloodslime.

  Another hunter near the left spun sharply, his blade halfway drawn.

  “Bloodslime!” a voice shouted.

  The cry carried through the chaos as a hunter near the center raised his claymore. He charged forward, slashing downward in a wide arc. The blade cut clean through a tendril.

  The severed piece reformed immediately, sinking back into the amorphous creature.

  "Watch the flanks!" shouted a hunter, parrying a tendril strike. "Find the core!" another yells, his blade slicing through a thick spear of bone and fresh blood, before another pierced him from behind, pulling him into the writhing mound in a blur.

  “Shit! It’s Level 490!” Another screamed.

  The hunter behind them extended his hand. A barrage of fiery metal projectiles burst forth, striking the Bloodslime with precise impacts. The flames scorched its surface, blackening patches of flesh, but the creature’s core remained hidden, untouched.

  Chaos ensued.

  Above, the carrion harpies circled.

  The flock observed the scene below, their crimson wings cutting deliberate arcs through the air. They were creatures of patience and hunger, their focus sharp and singular. While the Bloodslime consumed the living, the harpies watched for weakness, their reddish feathers rustled with a charred metallic hue. This flock, unlike their lesser kin, thrived in chaos, striking down prey with talons hardened to bladed edges and reinforced by natural alloys.

  One harpy broke formation.

  Its glowing eyes tracked a hunter at the clearing’s edge, his bow poised with an arrow crackling with thunderous energy.

  The harpy dove.

  ***

  Larger than the rest, and older too, the harpy dived, a blur too fast for most to see. The wind howled around her as she descended like a blade falling from the sky.

  Her talons struck her targets shoulders.

  They sank deep into flesh, the metallic edges carving through muscle and bone.

  The man’s scream was brief as she carried him skyward. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, leaving faint streaks on the rocks below. The hunters moved like prey—disjointed, afraid. Her golden eyes tracked them, calculating, assessing. Her wings spanned over fifteen feet, the edges reinforced with natural metallic alloys hard as forged blades. She had lived long enough to recognize the scent of weakness. She let out a sharp cry, a piercing sound that carried over the chaos. It was a signal to her flock, a command born not of words but instinct.

  They responded instantly.

  The others dove in unison, their crimson forms cutting through the storm-laden sky like arrows. Below, the humans panicked, their formation breaking as her flock descended upon them.

  The harpy watched, her golden eyes alight with satisfaction. The humans would not last long. They never did.

  ***

  Osric marched near the vanguard when the first scream split the air.

  His hand went to his side instinctively, but his weapon wasn’t there, he tutted and tisked internally— the mana cost of fighting without it would be steep and irritating. No matter, the weight of his experience grounded him all the same as his weathered eyes scanned the surrounding army. The hunters were already faltering, their loose formations breaking as panic rippled through half of them. Amateurs. A tendril lashed out from the underbrush, striking a hunter down, its bone-tipped end piercing his chest like the deadliest of spears.

  Osric recognized the creature instantly.

  The Bloodslime. A grotesque construct of necrotic mana and death, a relic of the gods that grew stronger with every victim it consumed until it became something truly abominable. He had fought its kind before. He knew their strengths—the speed of their tendrils, the density of their cores—and their weaknesses, buried deep, hidden and a little to the right. But this one was different. Its core had already been pierced but it still moved. Did it have another? Or was it just in a different place entirely? The creatures movements were faster than it should be, more precise, and the mass it had already gathered suggested it had been feeding long before the hunters had arrived.

  At the front, a hunter twisted in mid-step, his body jerking unnaturally as a bloodied tendril pierced his chest. The man’s sword slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground before the tendril dragged him into the shifting mass of the Bloodslime. It grew by a fraction of a fingernails length in size. None of the others would notice, but Osric knew.

  “The Bloodslime’s drawing them in, goading them to surround it,” he muttered.

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  Osric’s words came out steady and sharp, slicing through the chaos around him.

  He stood near Alex and Liora, all three assessing the battle, though doubted they could see what he did. His decades of experience in the frontier had prepared him for creatures like this, but even he had crossed the Grey Mountain only a handful of times. Beyond its cliffs lay a world unbound by reason, where death did not simply claim its tithe but transformed it into horrors like the Bloodslime.

  His gaze shifted upward in anticipation. The harpies had arrived. They always did.

  Carrion hunters. Symbiotic Predators. Pack creatures.

  They would follow the frontiers most dangerous predators, sometimes hours days or weeks behind, always stealing its prey, always feeding on the dead left behind. Alone they were practically harmless, but they were never alone.

  They circled like vultures, their crimson feathers and sharp talons glinting faintly as they tracked the chaos below. One broke formation, diving sharply. A hunter standing too far from the group was its target, and Osric’s sharp eyes caught the moment its talons sank into the man’s shoulders, lifting him into the air.

  “And the harpies are picking off the ones who break formation,” he added grimly.

  Another harpy landed, its claws sinking into a hunters back. Its razor-sharp beak drove into his neck, severing an artery with brutality.

  A volley of feathers followed.

  The harpies unleashed their bladed projectiles in unison. Razor-sharp feathers struck exposed joints, piercing armor and embedding deep into flesh. Many of the hunters staggered, blood spilling onto the earthen floor as several fell to their knees.

  “We need to act, or more will die.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  Osric summoned his preparatory skills, a concoction of buffs and debuffs that would make him better than he could ever be without them. He would face the harpies first. It would be impossible otherwise. The battle was already tilting against them, and he knew better than to waste his strength on panic.

  ***

  Alex

  Alex instantly assesed the battlefield, noting every break in the hunters’ formation as the Bloodslime lashed out again. Chaos had begun to ripple outward, but Alex remained steady.

  Eclipse stirred in the back of his mind, a faint hum of anticipation threading through their bond. The weapon’s presence was always there, faint and steady, but now it pressed against his mind, a pulse of anticipation that longed for release. Alex raised his hand, and the blade materialized instantly. Its dark metal surface rippled faintly with fiery red streaks, the heat radiating outward in subtle waves. He tightened his grip, focusing on the weapon’s familiar weight.

  Level 490? That’s pretty high… that would give it just under two thousand stats in every category, almost the same as me, but a few hundred below my strength. He considered the risk of stat specialisation, and how it could cause the creature to excel in one specific area; there was no guarantee it would have the entirety of its stats spread out evenly. How should I handle this? His thoughts turned toward the figures at the rear of the group. There were people present he did not want to reveal the full breadth of his skills and capabilities to.

  Namely— Vaylen Dreymoore and Faelir Arlen.

  Alex didn’t need to look at the two inhuman pale-skinned, red-eyed, elf-eared nobles to know that they would be watching the frontlines. He didn’t trust them. He trusted no one. Not yet, not completely, least of all the summoned heroes sat in comfort at the rear.

  His strength was overwhelming, yes—at least from what he had seen of this world so far. But it was far from what it could be. He had seen to much of what could be possible and studied the depths of techniques and magic from two different worlds. Alex felt as though he still had much more to gain. Studying Qi techniques had given him insight into the nature of energy and movement, and these insights were still fresh in his mind. He wanted to explore how mana worked with the body, how it operated when one attempted to utilise it in the way one would utilise Qi. He wanted to experiment. So instead of solely relying on his skills and his weapon, Alex would have a new priority; experimentation. He would use Eclipse and its clone to fight for him and ensure the campaign had as many survivors as possible, at least at this early stage, and aside from that?

  He would use his fists to fight the beasts.

  Though his proficiency in Muay Thai and Kickboxing, and most forms of bodily combat had alway been exceptional, It had been a while since he’d had the chance to practice his striking—battling Gideon had reminded him of the many complexities of hand-to-hand combat and the joy it brought, though the impossible depths of wielding a blade was much, much greater. Still, with his current skill set, utilising his body in such a way would be an prime opportunity to figure out how to marry mana with earth techniques; the way cultivators had married Qi with theirs.

  It would be good practice.

  “Sovereign Clone.”

  Eclipse’s presence burned hotter in his mind as the blade began to began to transform, its metallic surface twisting and expanding until the humanoid form towered over him, the sun reflecting off its metal skin. Streaks of fiery red ignited across its body, brighter now, and Its claws flexed slowly, though they burned ref with molten heat that caused the air to ripple faintly around them.

  That was new.

  Its three eyes scanned the battlefield, its central eye shifting independently as it focused on the Bloodslime. Through their bond, Alex could feel its eagerness to act, the hunger that thrummed just beneath its surface. It was waiting for his command—brimming with anticipation and glee at the violence around it.

  “Dual Resonance.”

  Replace Thousands become one with Sovereign Clone.

  [System Message: Through Dual Resonance, User skills - ‘Mana Burn’ and ‘Sovereign Clone’ have been granted to Soul-Bound weapon ‘Eclipse’]

  Through their bond, he could still feel the faintest trace of contempt bleeding from the weapon, though it was overwhelmed by a stronger desire to join the fray— to tear and destroy.

  “Use the new skill.”

  Eclipse moved as commanded. A surge of internal mana and Its right-hand blade twisted, the dark metal warping unnaturally. The weapon’s sharp edges compressed and folded inward, its sleek structure reshaping mid-air.

  From the blade, the second clone emerged.

  It stepped forward, identical in form to Eclipse’s humanoid body, its claws extending briefly before retracting. Its dark metallic surface bore no fiery streaks or molten glow in its claws. The cold, polished metal gleamed faintly, devoid of the chaotic energy that radiated from the original. It felt lesser, somehow.

  But still dangerous.

  It flanked Eclipse, standing silent and ready. It existed only to serve its purpose. Nothing more.

  Unlike Eclipse, Alex felt nothing from the clone. No vague impressions of thought, hunger, or emotion passed through their bond. It stood silent, exuding only stillness.

  Alex smirked behind his helm.

  Doing things this way would also misdirect the campaign’s leadership’s into thinking he was a summoner and a pugilist, which would help.

  In case they threatened him, or he needed to kill them, of course.

  But you know what? Alex thought to himself, not allowing himself justification. I think I just want to train my technique…So what if they see me using a sword? It’s why I bought the armour, after all, he decided, coming to a decision

  “Defeat the slime. Don’t hurt the humans.” Eclipse tilted its head, as though utterly confused by the distinction.

  Alex sighed, “don’t hurt anything that looks like me. That’s a human. Go.”

  The clones pounced at his words, blurring towards the large creature.

  Liora deflected a long-reaching tendril with her halberd, her movements sharp and instant despite her distraction. She glanced at Eclipse, then at Alex, her voice clipped.

  “Wha—“

  “What the hell is that? What the hell were they?” Osric’s interrupted with a hiss, his gaze fixed on the two metallic figures, he turned to Alex—

  But Alex was already gone.

  “Phoenix Cascade”

  Alex rocketed into the sky and delivered a flying knee to a harpy’s chest. Bones shattered. Panels erupted. He burst forward and drove his fist into another harpy’s chest. A loud crack sounded, like thunder. His hand seized its throat, twisting hard until its head snapped free. Blood sprayed across his armour, raining on those below. A panel appeared, and he vanished upward.

  He reappeared above the flock, crashing into another harpy with a brutal elbow. Its wings folded as it spiraled downward. He spun sharply, a backfist smashing another's jaw clean off.

  He grabbed a screeching harpy by its talons and swung it like a club. Bones shattered as it collided with the others, sending them falling in broken heaps. A rift opened above him. A massive blade descended, cleaving through the remaining flock. Pieces of harpies fell like rain.

  Alex glanced at the notification before him.

  [You have defeated level 97 x2 Carrion Harpy (D)]

  [You have defeated level 150 x17 Carrion Harpy (D)]

  [You have defeated level 207 x3 Carrion Harpy (D). Bonus experience due to level difference.]

  [Bonus experience due to ‘Hero’ feat.]

  [Level 195 > 205]

  [Strength +36, Dexterity+36, intelligence+54, unassigned stats +36]

  [Active Quest: ‘Limitless Prospect’ Completed - You have reached level 200!

  Reward: Sub-class unlocked, Class milestone skill available]

  A quick calculation revealed each kill below his level had netted him roughly 0.2 levelling experience, whereas the ones above his level had earned him somewhere just below 0.5, with the combined total being doubled by his ‘Hero’ feat. Had he been lower level, he suspected the new systems gains would have been far more drastic.

  Now, in mid-air, mid-fall, and surrounded by enemies, Alex found himself facing a very complex choice.

  [Class milestone skill available, Please make selection]

  [Sub-Class selection available. Please make selection]

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