The moment Fenrir stepped out of the dungeon, he moved like a shadow—silent and deadly.
The monsters that had attacked the decoy sword never even saw him coming. Within seconds, Fenrir had dispatched a dozen.
A few turned to flee, only to be impaled mid-step. The others tried to fight, but their claws and teeth were no match for his spear and precision.
In less than a minute, two dozen monsters lay dead at his feet.
But even then, Fenrir didn't lower his weapon.
Instead, his eyes turned to a patch of thick bushes just a few feet away.
His senses had caught it—the subtle shift in mana, the way the leaves had moved slightly against the breeze.
He tightened his grip and called out.
"You've got three seconds to walk out, or I'll drag you out myself."
There was a pause. Then, a nervous voice piped up.
"No need for violence! We mean you no harm!"
A female voice said quickly.
From behind the bush, two figures emerged, hands raised.
