Tenebrous Wolf
Chapter 93: Ruinous Flame

Chapter 93: Ruinous Flame

The following morning, the group gathered their belongings and began their descent from the hilltop, setting out toward their next destination.

Thanks to the path Adrian and Klaus had carefully mapped out, getting lost or taking a wrong turn wasn’t a major concern. Still, with the terrain as vast and maze-like as it was, a moment of distraction could easily lead someone astray.

But that wasn’t their main concern.

What truly worried them was the increasing number of monsters roaming the labyrinth.

As they had feared, the number had grown significantly, far more than the day before. They didn’t yet know the reason behind the sudden surge, but the threat it posed was undeniable. Prolonged battles were no longer an option; staying in one place too long meant risking being surrounded and overwhelmed.

It didn’t matter that one of them could manipulate the vectors of the omnipresent wind.

It didn’t matter that another could wield both light and darkness.

It didn’t matter that one was a succubus, capable of manipulating minds.

It didn’t matter that one among them could adapt to anything and grow stronger after the ’destruction’.

And it didn’t matter that a Stalker, a ghoul of terrifying strength, now walked along with them.

Even with all their powers, the odds of coming out on top were ridiculously low, especially when all roaming monsters were one rank higher than them.

Ultimately, they were at a great disadvantage.

In such a situation, the logical choice of action was abandon any thought about pushing their way throughout with force or else they would be overwhelmed. With this in mind, the group moved like shadows along the edges of the winding paths, careful not to disturb the silence more than necessary. Conversations were kept to a minimum, gestures replacing words and even movements was controlled against the bloody mud.

In front of them, Adrian who was leading the group while Klaus followed close behind, double-checking their route and cross-referencing it with the mental map they’d built over days of travel. Behind them, the other two were spread out in a loose formation, covering blind spots and stayed vigilant.

Seraphim covered the rear, gripping the silver longsword, ready to fight a series of bloody skirmishes all along the way. Meanwhile, Briar — or rather, Morgan — was riding on the back of the Stalker.

Twice, they had to halt and melt into the shadows as patrols of monsters passed by. Strangely enough, these creatures moved with an unsettling level of coordination, far more than one would expect from mindless beasts. Even more disturbing was what they were carrying.

Instead of devouring the dead Scavengers on the spot, they were transporting the bodies elsewhere.

It was undeniably strange. The monsters didn’t act like feral predators. They moved with purpose like soldiers, not creatures.

Klaus frowned.

’Where are they taking all those Scavenger corpses? Could it be they’re just moving them somewhere safer to feed without interruption? No... something’s off. This feels too organized. I don’t like it.’

He remembered the tactical survival lessons from Teacher Rex: once enemies start showing coordination, it’s no longer about brute strength or sheer numbers, but a matter of strategy. And strategy required intelligence.

Most Shadow Creatures operated on primal instinct, but even then, they were deadly. The idea of them working together with purpose was unsettling.

Humans might be smarter, sure, but drop an armed man into a pack of lionesses, and he still wouldn’t walk out. Intelligence alone didn’t guarantee survival.

The wild had its own rules, and even the dumbest beasts could display a disturbing level of cunning when it mattered. But this... this felt like something worse. Like those things weren’t just acting on instinct, but following orders.

A higher power. A commander.

That thought chilled him more than the cold wind licking at his neck.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

Following that, he glanced at Adrian, whose sharp eyes had never left the winding paths. The blonde Strider was already on alert. Klaus could tell by the slight way his shoulders had tensed, including the way his hand gripped the wind gathering spear, Windbreaker.

Suddenly, Seraphim’s voice came through the group’s comms in a whisper:

"Movement. Left side. Close."

Adrian raised a hand, halting everyone instantly.

From behind a gnarled wall of stone and gnarled roots, the crunch of flesh under claw echoed faintly, followed by a wet dragging sound. The group remained still, invisible in the shadows, until the sounds faded into the distance.

"Tch. Damn things are everywhere," he muttered in displeasure. "At this rate, we’ll be lucky to reach the hill before we’re swallowed by a flood of abominations."

Klaus stepped up beside him.

"We’re maybe three, four kilometers from the cliffs. Think we can make it?"

Adrian scowled.

"If we take the most direct route, maybe. But with all these monsters roaming around, I highly doubt it."

With that, he fell silent, his expression tightening as his eyes scanned the path ahead; twisting, narrow, and littered with half-buried bones sinking into the bloodstained mud.

The black cloud above his head seemed to say that the situation was hopeless.

The truth was plain: no matter what route they chose, they’d be forced into a fight eventually. And when that happened, the noise would draw more monsters. A chain reaction. A spiral.

And once that started, it was already game over. Permanently, for sure.

’Wait, can’t we use the strategy me and Briar used back in that Forsaken Cavern?"

Klaus’s eyes suddenly lit up.

Looking back, it really was that simple. The answer had been staring him in the face the entire time, yet he’d ignored it like a blind fool.

Why were they skulking through shadow and mud... when they could’ve just walked straight ahead?

Of course, it was that simple!

They could walk straight through without fear and the best part? The damn abominations would be too busy tearing each other apart to even notice.

At the sudden realization, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Bolstered by the thought, he glanced at Morgan — Briar — and gave her a knowing look.

At first, the disguised succubus looked confused, but then her eyes met his, and understanding flickered between them. "Are you sure?" they seemed to ask.

He nodded, the quiet confidence in his smile meant just for her.

Following the silent exchange, Klaus turned his gaze to Adrian and Seraphim and said,

"I think I know a way we can easily get past those monsters."

They stared at him, stunned. He might as well have said he could fly.Adrian narrowed his eyes.

"You’re serious? You actually have a way?"

Klaus just smiled.

"I’m serious. And it’s ridiculously easy at that too."

† †

Beneath the grey sky of the Forgotten Lands, the Nightmare Carapaces moved through the labyrinthine black terrain. From a distant, all-seeing perspective, one might notice a chilling detail: each of these creatures carried the carcasses of dead Scavengers, impaled on their scythe-like limbs. The purpose and reason for this remained a mystery, but one thing was certain that they were carrying the bodies ’somewhere’.

As the group of ghouls advanced through the paths carved by time and erosion, the air grew heavier, saturated with the scent of rotting flesh and something metallic, like scorched iron mixed with spoiled blood. Even the very air quality seemed thick and heavy.

Then, without warning, one of the Nightmare Carapaces locked in place, as if gripped by some invisible force. A violent shudder rippled through its armored frame and thrashed its limbs around at unnatural angles. It staggered like a marionette yanked by a mad puppeteer, convulsing until the spasms ceased. Silence fell — then, slowly, its bioluminescent slits bled into a sickly pink, pulsing like the heartbeat of something newly awakened.

Of course, the change went unnoticed by the other Nightmare Carapaces, even when their still-twitching brethren let the Scavenger’s mangled carcass slip from its scythe-like limbs and hit the ground with a wet, meaty thud. They marched on, indifferent, as if the thing had never moved at all.

However, this single mistake would be their undoing.

Without warning, the once-motionless Nightmare Carapace unleashed a shriek that cut through the air like a razor. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, scythe-like limbs raised high. Then came the sickening crunch of flesh being torn open, followed by the unmistakable sound of blood splattering across the stone.

The shriek echoed through the labyrinth, a banshee wail that shattered the stillness like glass. The nearest Nightmare Carapace barely had time to turn before the rogue’s limbs scissored through its torso, cleaving its armor open in a spray of ichor and steam. The creature spasmed once, twitching violently, then collapsed into the mud in a heap of shuddering limbs and viscera.

The others finally reacted — slowly, almost sluggishly — as if their minds couldn’t comprehend what they were seeing. These were not creatures known for hesitation. But what had once been their kin now twisted its body in impossible angles, scythes clicking together like claws sharpening for the next kill.

It turned to face the rest.

And attacked.

In a blur of movement, it carved a jagged path through two more Carapaces, painting the blackened stone with streaks of glowing innards. The scent of scorched blood intensified, mixing with something fouler and acrid.

The rest howled, finally roused into action.

But it was too late.

The pink-lit Carapace, which had attacked first, moved faster and controlled the battlefield. It dodged incoming strikes with just enough sway and retaliated with efficient slashes that never missed their mark.

One of the Nightmare Carapaces lunged at it from the side. The pink-lit one ducked low, sweeping its bladed limb in an upward arc. The attacker’s body split clean down the middle before it could even process the motion.

Far above, crouched behind a jagged outcropping, Morgan’s eyes were closed in concentration.

"Hey," she whispered, though only Klaus could hear it through the link, "You were right. This works. But... it’s not easy."

Klaus didn’t take his eyes off the carnage unfolding below.

"You holding up?"

There was a pause.

"I can keep it up... for a while. But this thing’s mind is... fractured. Like trying to wear a shattered mask. Every second I stay inside, It feels like something is slicing into me. But I’ll manage."

Klaus replied softly:

"Good, don’t push too far. The moment they catch on, pull out."

"No," she said. "Not yet. Not until they rip each other apart."

In the ravine below, the pink-lit Carapace spun and drove one of its limbs clean through the skull of another. The impact sent a burst of ichor showering the nearby stones. Its glowing slits pulsed, flickering as if struggling to maintain the strange hue.

But it was enough.

The other Carapaces no longer hesitated. The scent of corrupted blood had triggered a frenzy. Without understanding the cause, they had labeled the rogue as prey or rather, something to be purged. And in doing so, they’d turned their blades on each other. Confusion spread like fire.

The labyrinth became a massacre.

One by one, monsters tore into monsters, shrieking and rending in a storm of metal and flesh. Mud churned beneath their feet, soaked with layers of gore. Limbs flew, carapaces cracked, and still the pink-lit one danced between them like a conductor of chaos, guiding the violence with invisible strings.

This was the frightening power of Mind Control — The Ruinous Flame of the Nightweaver Clan.

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