"Elder Valmont, don't you think if we wait any longer, the Blazing Wolf might kill them all?"
Valmont smiled faintly and glanced at Althea.
"It seems you've gotten stronger over the years. The last time I saw you, you were at the early Silver rank stage, and now you've advanced to the late Gold rank stage. Very well, you may proceed."
At the present time, Althea stood at the waterfall, surveying the chaos around her.
"It seems I arrived too late. Only one man is still breathing. I wonder why Elder didn't allow me to intervene sooner."
Meanwhile, Group Eight had reached the outskirts of the town with its walls now visible in the distance.
Fatty and Jane chatted excitedly as they walked, planning what to buy with the rewards from their hunts once they return.
"I can already imagine the looks on those filthy soldiers' faces when they see our haul. Their jaws will drop."
Jane boasted.
Fatty nodded enthusiastically, counting on his fingers.
"With this hunt, we'll earn at least eighty silver crowns! That's enough to feed us for a whole year. I can't wait—I'm starving!"
Jane, rolling her eyes, knocked some sense into him.
"Can't you think of anything besides food for once?"
Their laughter faded as they turned to Abaddon and Orlan, who didn't share in the joy. Jane remembered the harsh words she'd spoken earlier and, feeling remorseful, gently tapped Abaddon on the shoulder to get his attention.
"Am pretty sure you're still mad at me.
I just wanted to say I'm sorry—for everything I said before. I was shallow, and I regret it. Please forgive me."
Without turning to look at her, Abaddon sighed.
"It's fine. I'm used to it, so don't worry about it."
Though his words offered forgiveness, his tone was void of comfort, leaving Jane feeling uneasy.
Fatty chimed in, concerned.
"Boss, you don't look happy. What's bothering you?"
Abaddon paused, staring at his hands before turning back to the forest behind them. The once vibrant woods seemed darker with each passing second.
"I don't know... something doesn't feel right. Is like we're being watched and my soul is grieving for something—or someone. We need to leave this place, now."
His sudden warning made Jane and Fatty uneasy as they noticed how eerily quiet it had become. The darkening sky and the chilling silence only deepened their unease.
Back at the Sky Citadel, Elder Valmont stood with a troubled expression.
"What is going on?, why do I feel like the trouble brewing down there hasn't come to an end... maybe am getting too old."
Turning around, he begun to slowly advance to the Citadel Buildings but his eyes immediately widened in terror when he felt the energy barrier around the town start to fracture, with fast reflexes he descended to town square.
His sudden appearance caught attention from the whole town and slaves walking nearby, even the soldiers came to pay their respects, but Valmont was in no mood to return such gratitude.
Raising his staff, he began drawing a sigil in the air. A grimoire materialized behind him, emitting a green aura. Then as if wanting to confirm his suspicious, he recited the name of spell whiles the pages of the Grimour continue Turning on their own.
"Illumina Revalare!!"
A bright radiant light erupted from Valmont and shot into the sky, catching everyone's attention as they looked at a magic spell take effect.
The light begun to expand and accelerate in a wave of sphere starting from the middle of the town and made its way outwards.
From Afar the approaching group eight saw the light heading towards them and in an instant passed them towards the deeper forest.
"Was that a magic spell."
Jane asked in surprise to which Abaddon nodded in desperation.
Far beyond the town's limits, Althea felt the spell ripple through the air, peeling back layers of illusion. And then she saw them-the eyes.
Suspended above the forest's energy barrier, a pair of crimson orbs blazed in the darkness, ancient and malicious. One pair became two. Then four. Then eight.
A jagged grin split the void, impossibly wide, revealing rows of teeth like blackened shards of obsidian.
"No"
Just like seeing an actual nightmare in the darkness, Althea's composure shattered.
"This... This can't be real."
At the town, Valmont's spell ended as the radiant dome collapsed into a hushed silence. But the reprieve was short-lived.
Valmont's expression darkened as his voice thundered over the town, amplified by his magic.
"Evacuate immediately! This is no ordinary myth- this is a Cataclysm Class-IV continental threat!"
The sound of the rumbling voice echoed across the town, putting everyone on high alert. Slaves emerged from their homes and taverns, confused by the sudden commotion.
In the floating Citadel, the other Elders stood on the horizon, their gazes filled with dread.
"That... that can't be..."
One Elder murmured, unable to find the words to describe what they saw.
In the distance, the red eyes and eerie grin loomed larger, it's presence casting a shadow of terror over the town. The monstrous gaze lifted, locking onto the Citadel itself with a creeping smile.
An eerie whisper followed as another elder looked up in horror.
"By the gods, what have we done to attract such an atrocity? This is a Cataclysm Class-IV myth...."
Swallowing hard, he added in a haunting tone.
"The Mourning Fiend."
In that moment, the barrier suddenly shattered as a colossal mass of shadow with hundreds of hands, heads, and eyes, along with one true smiling mouth, stared down at the mountains. The sky turned completely dark, revealing a blood-red moon.
This caught the attention of several distant lands. As everyone knew, a Cataclysm Class-IV myth not only possessed incredible intelligence but could easily level an entire town.
The question was, what was such a myth suddenly doing in a place devoid of many Rankers?
For a moment, as if time had slowed down, everyone was paralyzed, staring up at the darkness. Then, as if waking from a dream, panic broke out, with the moon bathing the town in a red light.
"This is bad... this is really bad."
With that, Elder Valmont raised his staff again, casting multiple portals to help the slaves escape. Within minutes, most of the Elders joined him, knowing their chances of survival were slim.
Valmont cursed as he looked at the titans staring down, as if they were amused but chose not to act. Meanwhile, Group Eight was running with all their strength.
"That's... that's... what is that?"
Jane panicked, seeing the chilling terror of the Mourning Fiend's mere presence.
"Don't stop, no matter what! We must get to the town as fast as possible!"
Abaddon replied desperately.
Just when everything seemed to freeze, the Mourning Fiend opened its massive maw and let out a terrifying screeching roar with such intensity that the clouds in the range were quickly pushed away.
This frightening, continuous sound was known as the Grieving Cry, and it was the most terrifying, horrific thing the Mourning Fiend could do.
"Everybody cover your ears! Don't listen to the cry of that nightmare!"
Another Elder shouted as he quickly made his way to the ground where Valmont and the other Mages were maintaining the portals.
As soon as he landed, he summoned two frost-bear tigers, which countered the Mourning Fiend's Grieving Cry with their roars. But it was too late. The effect of the Grieving Cry was already taking hold.
Slaves who were trying to reach the portals began falling to their knees.
"Help! Someone help!!"
Their desperate cries echoed briefly before their bodies collapsed, blood streaming from their eyes and mouths. Moments later, grotesque hands emerged from the mouths of the fallen, clawing their way out.
Hideous creatures, adorned with bat-like wings and eyes scattered across their distorted forms, tore free from the lifeless corpses. These abominations were known as Hollows.
Such was the devastating effect of the Grieving Cry, which consumed its victims' souls, fates, and destinies, leaving behind empty shells that birthed new horrors.
Indeed, Cataclysm Class-IV myths possessed the terrifying ability to spawn other myths or command those of lower tiers, spreading their chaos like a plague.
"They've been turned into hollows!"
One Elder shouted.
"Valmont, request help from the main base!"
"The Fire Elf and Grand Master Archimedes should be on their way. We need to evacuate the hunters first."
A few miles from the main town, Group Eight was advancing near the town when suddenly the ground began to tremble, as if an earthquake were taking place. Several seconds later, the land started to split open, giving way to molten lava.
From the lava, several myths emerged. In an instant, the area was being overrun by myths.
Harpies—decayed women with birdlike lower bodies—erupted from the abyss below, their terrifying laughter echoing through the hunting silence. Minotaurs, Basilisks, and other high-tier myths swarmed the land.
Orlan, Fatty, Jane, and Abaddon stopped to witness hell breaking loose. The once Arcane Citadel was now being overrun with hollows and myths.
A night that could be considered the last.