Within the Holy Church, every Cardinal possessed a distinct field of mastery that set them apart. Adela was no exception.

True to her gnomish lineage, she was born with an extreme sensitivity to vibration, and she had forged that trait into a weapon. Her small body belied the sheer destructive force it could unleash. Even Angela, her disciple and one of the top five knights of the Holy Iron Inquisitors, was still a child by comparison.

Hyper Vibration was a technique that forced Aura itself into an ultra-high-frequency oscillation, shattering all matter regardless of its hardness or durability.

“DIIIIIEE!”

With a single blow, Adela obliterated the mass of tentacles. The air rippled, and a shockwave blasted outward.

Unlike Vibrato, which specialized in close combat, this skill, named Tremolo, was a technique meant for range.

As a wave of destructive resonance shot toward Morse, the Bishop muttered, “Impressive... In terms of sheer power, you rival Nekator.”

Even Morse, for all his arrogance, dared not take it head-on and moved aside. The moment the purple flame and writhing tentacles met Tremolo, they were pulverized and scattered to dust.

It was overwhelming power. Regeneration didn’t carry much meaning when there was nothing left to regenerate. Adela had fought exolaw wielders for decades, and she fully knew a hundred ways to dismantle them.

Just as she prepared a second strike, Morse swiftly chanted a spell and raised his hand.

“ɯʗɣɖɢŭʊɕɧɧɨɩɬɭɮ!”

The shredded tentacles vaporized into mist, spreading through the air. The stench of sulfur filled the hall as the vapor thickened into something formless.

Air turned poisonous around it, the acidic mist capable of corroding flesh, metal, and stone alike, being released.

“How annoying!”

Adela, ready to leap again, opened both palms instead. Her Hyper Vibration could theoretically disintegrate even gases and liquids, but efficiency dropped sharply compared to solid matter, and especially so with something this vast.

Even if she erased a portion, the vapor simply grew back. The only real solution was to kill the caster.

Adela clapped her hands once. The sound multiplied in an instant, echoing like thunder. To manipulate vibration was to manipulate sound. Turning a simple clap into a shockwave was child’s play for her.

The blast shoved the toxic mist backward, and she landed unharmed.

“Irexana,” Adela called.

As soon as he heard his name, Irexana was suddenly beside Adela, answering calmly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll take down Morse. You handle the rest.”

“Understood.”

“There’s no way he hasn’t trapped this place somehow. Save a bit of strength for whatever’s waiting.”

After a brief exchange, they charged without hesitation. Irexana moved first, swinging his twin axes: a pair of specially forged weapons, Jugend Steel numbers 200 and 201, known as the Eyes of the Goddess. Flames roared to life along their edges.

Vapor-type monsters had a common weakness: extreme temperature. The axes carved through the mist, and the creature screamed as its form broke apart and scattered. Adela did not waste the opening.

“Morse!”

Bellowing his name, she lunged like a raging boar. She lived up to her title “Rampage.” Even Morse swallowed dryly beneath his mask. There was no stopping that momentum—no blocking it, not even for a moment.

He couldn’t win in close combat. So, he pulled out another card.

“I suppose I have no choice,” Morse muttered as a sickly gleam flickered across his mask.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have lasted minutes against the two Cardinals. This, however, was after the grand human sacrifice—hundreds of thousands, perhaps even a million souls from Calelum itself. The ritual had been meant for another purpose, but the residue alone was staggering—enough to summon beings that should never have been called.

“ɧɧɨɩɬɭɧɧɨɩɬɭɣɖɢŭɯʗɣ!”

The black crystal in his hand shattered, and the mist that Irexana had scattered let out a horrifying shriek before vanishing.

From within that void, something answered. A high-ranking entity of the Hungry Realm—one that had devoured a hundred thousand souls.

The air before Adela split open, and a torrent of malice poured out so thick it made her dizzy. Even she dared not advance, knowing that turning her back would mean instant death.

Then, it emerged.

“It has been long since I was summoned to the material realm,” it said.

A clawed hand burst through the rift, its skin twisted and scaly like a reptile’s, veins glowing red like molten rock. Arm, shoulder, torso, waist, and then, a monster with a scorpion’s lower body and a man’s upper half crawled forth.

When the four-meter creature finally revealed itself, both Irexana and Adela fell silent. They recognized it from ancient records. Adela muttered its name through clenched teeth.

“A transcendent of the Hungry Realm... the Devourer.”

What had appeared before them was a demon of gluttony that consumed all—living or not. Its power far surpassed even that of the Winter Serpent once summoned in Ladoga.

The Hungry Realm was a world without food, where creatures devoured one another endlessly, never knowing satisfaction. The more they ate, the stronger they became. That cycle never ended.

“Humans of faith, are you? I can’t remember the last time I tasted such delicacy.”

The Devourer’s mouth twisted into a gruesome smile as it stared down the two Cardinals. There was no hint of emotion in its voice—only hunger. From its twelve eyes radiated nothing but an unfathomable, bottomless appetite.

Even Morse could not control what he had summoned. He had merely called it forth; to command it was beyond him. If he interfered and ruined its “meal,” it might just turn on him instead.

“This is as far as I go,” said Morse as he turned his back to the Cardinals, his mutated body reverting to its human form. “Forgive me, but I’ve no time to play further. If you survive, we’ll meet again at the White Peak Palace.”

However, neither Cardinal could answer. Even twitching their lips might provoke the monster to lunge. They knew better than to let their guard down for a second. The Devourer, too, understood that these were not prey to toy with, but quarry worthy of a true hunt.

“Good. Let’s see what you can do,” it said.

The moment the Devourer revealed its killing intent, the two Cardinals leaped in opposite directions and released their Aura.

This was nothing like their battle with Morse. There was no room to hold back—not even a fraction.

Adela advanced first, unleashing four consecutive shockwaves.

“Tremolo, Quartet of Palm.”

The destruction was so immense that the air itself warped visibly. However, the Devourer didn’t dodge. It met the attack head-on.

A thunderous explosion tore through the hall. The marble tiles flipped, and the pillars of the palace split with deep cracks. The luxurious structure, built for nobles and not for war, was never going to withstand her power. And yet... 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

“Not bad. For such a tiny female, you strike quite hard.”

The Devourer emerged through the dust cloud and swung its claw. Its scorpion-like pincer sliced through the air faster than sound, closing in on Adela in an instant. If it hit, there wouldn’t even be bones left. Adela countered, thrusting both fists forward.

“Vibrato, Duet of Fist.”

Her Aura-clad fists met the monster’s claw, and with another deafening boom, both were thrown back. Adela slid four steps, the Devourer one. The difference in raw power was clear.

Then, a flying axe struck the Devourer’s torso, forcing it back three more steps. It was a strike infused with both Aura and Holy Power.

The monster snarled, its thick, black, and venomous blood pouring from the deep wound across its chest.

“You dare hunt me? Prey dares challenge the predator?”

“We’ll only know who’s prey when we’re finished,” said Irexana, seizing his returning axe and drawing on every ounce of strength within him.

Aura. Spirit power. Holy power. The three forces merged, amplifying each other manyfold.

In response, the Devourer revealed its true power. Its physical might was only a foundation; its real terror lay in its transcendental ability as a higher being.

Among transcendents, few races specialized in pure close combat like the Asura. The rest wielded supernatural powers beyond any magic—abilities that couldn’t be analyzed, countered, or resisted.

Eyes that turned the living to stone. Flames that consumed life itself. Such powers were the Devourer’s domain.

It didn’t speak aloud. Until now, its “voice” had been its thoughts, projected directly into the minds of Irexana and Adela.

And now, that will trembled through the air again. They didn’t know what the ability was, nor its range. All they could do was brace for whatever came next.

“Hm...?”

Irexana was the first to notice the change. From inside the palace—and from outside—it was coming. Countless footsteps, an earth-shaking vibration drawing nearer and nearer.

Yet there was no sign of life. Even an Aura Master’s senses could not detect a single living being.

“This isn’t good...” Adela muttered and wiped cold sweat from her brow.

While keeping the Devourer in her sight, she glanced out the window and froze.

“No way. Necromancy? Now?!”

The streets below were filled with corpses marching in a grotesque parade of the dead. The city-wide exhibition of death and malice had been revived by the Devourer’s transcendental power, given false life to serve its will.

It was revolting to behold. Corpses turned into undead exactly as they had been displayed, as macabre “objects.”

The Devourer mused, “With their souls long gone, they’re just shells. But gather enough of them, and they can still serve a purpose.”

It chuckled low, and as if that sound was their signal, the corpses began to converge. They piled upon one another—crushing, grinding, merging. Bones and flesh fused into a single, growing mass.

It was no longer human in shape. A long neck extended downward from a cluster of heads, a thick torso sprouted paired limbs ending in taloned claws, and it kept growing.

Instead of shimmering scales, its surface was plated with bone, the rotting flesh beneath packed tight to give it shape. From head to tail, the abomination grew into a towering mass that easily exceeded fifty meters.

“Perhaps such a thing exists in your world as well. Not bad, wouldn’t you say? I modeled it after those arrogant lizards you have in your world.”

“That shape...” Recognizing the creature, Irexana’s eyes widened. “A Zombie Dragon?!”

“Not quite. It’s a Flesh Dragon-Golem, to be precise.” The Devourer spoke as if proudly introducing a masterpiece of its own creation. “I hardened the bones to serve as scales and frame, compressed the muscle fibers to their utmost density, and forged the core from the remnants of grudges and fragmented souls. It can even spew a corpse-toxin Breath, distilled from death itself.”

Even before he finished speaking, the creature’s eyes opened. Though shaped like eyes, the clouded orbs could not see—only reflect the pallid light of the palace.

It might have great power, but it was still a flesh golem. Even when stuffed with residual malice, it was incapable of intellect or will. In other words, this monster was the Devourer’s obedient servant.

“Heh... This makes it two on two, doesn’t it? Let’s see how long you can dance before you die.”

With a horrifying roar, the battle erupted once more. The Zombie Dragon moved first. It split its decayed jaws wide and expelled a torrent of venomous mist, the same corpse poison the Devourer had described—spewed like a dragon’s breath.

Though the breath lacked physical force, the toxin corroded the air itself. The palace began to melt away at terrifying speed. Even fine marble crumbled within minutes beneath that virulent acid.

Irexana swiftly wrapped himself and Adela in a sacred spell, Invincible Shield, a sacred spell that repelled disease and poison alike.

“O Goddess, grant that no harm befall this body. Let no poison, no corruption, nor unclean thing draw near. Let nothing unfit for mouth or breath touch my lips.”

Cloaked in radiant white light, they leaped through the window just as the palace collapsed behind them. The Devourer gave chase at frightening speed. Its enormous pincers sliced through the dust clouds, and spotting Irexana first, it lashed out with its tail.

Even crossing both axes in defense, Irexana was thrown back hard. Not even his monstrous strength could withstand the Devourer head-on.

If force failed, he would rely on skill. After all, exploiting the strong through the art of the weak was the essence of martial mastery. Grasping that truth, Irexana suddenly hurled the axe from his right hand.

It wasn’t an act of desperation. It was bait, meant to disrupt the monster’s pursuit.

“Throwing away your weapon? You planning to die like this?”

Deflecting the axe effortlessly with one claw, the Devourer sneered. Irexana, however, only shook his head.

“Hardly. I merely thought the axes alone wouldn’t be enough.”

“What?”

Before the creature could catch on, something else gleamed in Irexana’s hand.

“Jugend Steel number 154: Spiral Wedge.”

It was a spear forged of adamantium, its blade twisted in a spiral. Irexana hurled it with only shoulder and arm strength—no full body motion—and yet it easily broke the sound barrier. His raw power alone was absurd, but the weapon itself was engineered to slice through air resistance.

The Devourer tried to parry it with its claw, only for pain to explode through its limb.

It had been pierced.

It was not a clean impalement, but the spear had dug deep into the chitin of its claw. The Devourer wrenched it out with the other pincer and bared its fangs.

“Such petty tricks. Have you no pride as a warrior?”

“Petty words from a gluttonous beast,” Irexana retorted coolly, drawing three daggers and a great scythe.

All were forged of Jugend Steel, each a masterpiece of his own making.

“Why should I feel shame in wielding weapons of my own craft? I’d say it’s far less disgraceful than a creature that toys with corpses like clay.”

From afar came the thunder of battle—Adela’s clash with the Zombie Dragon.

Through the echoes, Irexana sensed the flow of combat.

She seemed to hold the advantage, but victory was impossible. Unless she could obliterate fifty meters of mass in a single blow, the undead dragon would simply regenerate again and again until the summoner fell.

It meant it was time for him to reveal more of his hand.

I brought thirty-four pieces of Jugend Steel, he calculated silently. Of those, perhaps eleven are fit for that beast. If I use every disposable weapon, our odds rise above fifty percent... but time is the problem.

Sliding three daggers between the joints of his left fingers and gripping the scythe’s handle with his right, Irexana lowered his stance. It was a form that existed in no martial art in the world. It was beyond technique, beyond convention.

What Irexana was manifesting was a style only he could reach as one who had mastered dozens of weapons to perfection. A true Weapon Master.

“Let’s keep it going,” he said as he stepped forward boldly, raising his scythe. “Cardinal Adela and I don’t have the leisure to waste time playing with you.”

“Oh? Then I’ll make sure to make you spend plenty of time with me,” said the Devourer before releasing a roar, its once-pierced claw now fully healed. “You’ll melt together nicely inside my stomach!”