The Dead Apostle, Numian, looked at Xuan with worry. Most of the people present did the same, with the sole exception of Luna, who was watching him with barely contained excitement.

Xuan cleared his throat. He wasn't going to lie—laughing had felt amazing in the moment, but now the crawling tentacles of embarrassment were making themselves known.

"What's so funny, huh?" Numian barked. "You think this is a joke? That I'm not serious? If you refuse to aid Duke Sarian and provide the tithe Lord Zavian is already collecting from every other village, you'll be tried for treason against the kingdom!"

The elves visibly flinched at that. The Spirit Borns remained unfazed, except for the turtleman, who understood all too well the weight of that accusation.

The man pressed on. "In fact, by casting that spell over us just now—that spell which recreated the effects of a Royal's special trait—you've not only harmed us, the Talons of Duke Zavian, but made a mockery of the Royals themselves!"

That claim raised Elhelm's eyebrows. "What do you mean we cast a spell on you? That was our lord's personal trait."

Numian shot Xuan a look of disdain. "Oh, spare me the lies, Elhelm. We know full well that among everyone here, only that Wolf, the Spirit Born, and you can potentially produce any mana pressure at all. Much less pressure of that calibre." His gaze drifted to Sylnea next, sizing her up, before clashing with Rovan's stare. He gave a snort and turned back to Elhelm. "Now, enough games. Are you going to comply, or are we reporting back to Lord Zavia—!"

He stepped back on instinct as Luna extended her claws — claws that shone with the sheen of the moon itself. Xuan raised a hand in front of her. They needed to restrain themselves against officials of the kingdom, regardless of how appalling their conduct was. But that restraint was being pulled at their seams with every word this hypocrite uttered.

Xuan drew a slow breath and turned to Elhelm. He needed information. He gestured for the old man to come closer, and Elhelm shuffled past Luna to reach him.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Tsk. What lord…" Numian grumbled in the background.

Xuan ignored him.

"Of the claims he's made, which are the most dangerous for us if they reach the court?"

Elhelm considered for a moment. "The imitation of the Royal Guard through spells, I believe. That's no small matter, my lord. It could very well enrage the nobility — even high-ranking lords have been stripped of their titles for mimicking anything tied to Royalty." He glanced briefly at Numian. "As for the treason charge over the tithe — that's dangerous too, but manageable if we provide equal compensation. Lady Sarian and Duke Zavian's relationship is already strained enough. I don't believe he'd go to such lengths for her sake."

"Even with Artesh having invaded her territory?" Xuan asked.

"The thing is, wars between Artesh and Thanevros are entirely routine—more of a recurring festival than a genuine conflict, given how often and rigidly they conduct them."

That simplified things considerably.

"So, what happens if I convince him that we didn't imitate a Royal unique trait—that it was simply my mana pressure?"

"I don't believe that would serve us well either, my lord."

Fair enough. If he convinced the man it was nothing more than his own mana, the Royals would likely take an interest and summon him to the Palace for a demonstration.

A white ear perked up. "How about we just kill them all and eat them?"

Both Elhelm and Xuan's heads snapped toward the source in unified horror.

Wait, Elhelm too?

The old man was staring at an empty patch of air as though something stood there.

"Did you gain Beastly Tongue?" Xuan asked.

Elhelm smiled and gave a small nod.

I don't know whether to be happy or deeply concerned.

In his heart, he felt something warm. In his brain, several alarm bells went off simultaneously. Especially given that the very first thing Elhelm had heard through Beastly Tongue was that particular suggestion.

"Congratulations," Xuan said to Elhelm.

I suppose.

Across from them, Ren had, for some reason, placed his hand over the hilt of his sword and was eyeing Luna with mounting unease—practically on high alert. Not that it would matter in the slightest if Luna actually lunged.

On the matter of compensation, he could provide that to this Duke Zavian. But the Royalty imitation charge was a different beast entirely. Could he simply pay Numian to keep quiet and go home?

After all, the man is here for profit.

But the thought gnawed at something in him. Was he really going to hand money to an enslaver of people—because that enslaver had failed to enslave the elves?

After a brief internal deliberation, a far more satisfying idea took shape.

What about scare tactics?

He laid out the plan to both Akupara and Elhelm.

"That is… quite a unique solution, my lord," Elhelm said carefully.

"Terrifying is more accurate," Akupara offered.

"Well, it is called a 'scare tactic' for a reason." Xuan smiled at the bewildered Numian. "Unless either of you has a better idea?"

Elhelm shook his head, conceding defeat.

"I truly wish I had learned that memory erasure spell from the succubus of Serephia."

Succubi and memory erasure spells both exist in this world?

He'd half-assumed such things were forbidden relics or forgotten arts.

Maybe they are.

"Are you quite finished with your little huddle over there? Frankly, given the length of time you've spent whispering, calling it a 'chit-chat' would be a severe understatement—!!??"

Oh, how he savored that expression. The absolute, wide-eyed bewilderment on a man's face the moment the ground beneath him vanished. Because while Numian had been mid-sentence, Xuan had space-flickered the entire vampire to the mountainous fringe of Elaneth, where the forest gave way to peaks. Somewhere above those peaks sat the mountain village of Yuan—a quiet place of hot springs and wild fruit.

Xuan had made sure to materialize them above the cloud line. The vegetation below didn't deserve the chaos. Neither did the people he'd brought.

Safety first, then spectacle.

Mana poured from within him—thick and vivid as a rainbow, humming with the potential of every element. He channeled his wind affinity as it surged forward, light green bleeding across the spectrum, consuming element after element until it alone dominated the expanse. Then came intention—he imbued it with meaning and purpose and a touch of imagination. Without system-assisted spells, every step demanded precision. The mana condensed into fine strips, which Xuan threaded outward across the gathered warriors with carefully projected imagination. The strips shifted and wove together, forming a symmetrical translucent lattice of green — a dome, enclosing them entirely on all sides.

By the time the first barrier was complete, the warriors had just barely managed to collect themselves.

---

It was Ren who moved first, while Numian surveyed their surroundings with cold calculation. Ren's hand closed around the hilt of his sword as a stream of metal mana coursed through the blade's silver veins, the edges burning yellow with heat. The sword expanded—denser, heavier, nearly triple its original mass. His muscles followed suit, reddening visibly, his shoulder swelling with the effort as the transformation ran through him.

He swung.

The blade carved through the air inside the dome, shearing through the trailing tendrils of ambient mana before slamming into the wind lattice. Prismatic sparks erupted at the collision as Ren strained against the barrier's repulsive force.

Numian watched it all with a cold gaze — then felt the mana tighten outside their enclosure. His pupils contracted sharply, and his heart kicked against his ribs.

"Ten more barriers have been erected, Ren."

His panicked voice snapped Ren out of his focus. The vampire's brow furrowed, blue eyes bleeding red.

"Is that… what I think it is?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Above them, a thunderous rain of red tore through the soft, heavy clouds, descending like sharpened daggers from a master smith's hand. And Numian would have been grateful if it had stopped there. It didn't. The beads of red kept plummeting downward—sleek, serrated, ravenous—and the mana surrounding them bore an unsettling resemblance to that of the golden-haired figure. Xuan.

The name itself sounded masculine, and now that Numian thought about it, the figure's bearing had been anything but delicate. But gender hardly felt relevant against the enormity of what had been unleashed.

A sea of blood materialized from the spell—and in it swam small, gleaming things with rows of serrated teeth, gnashing through the very fabric of the air. The downpour of crimson intensified before fading, leaving the sky smeared red. What had once resembled fish now looked like something dredged from a nightmare, and they crashed against the outer barrier with single-minded hunger. Some were flung away by the repulsive force. The rest sank their teeth into the shell separating them from the devourers.

Numian activated [Appraise].

[Blood Piranha – Lvl 130]

[Blood Piranha – Lvl 123]

[Blood Piranha – Lvl 144]

Ren's eyes went dark. Behind him, the other vampires began to kneel.

"Numian!" they screamed. "What is happening, you bastard? First you drag us into a village full of overleveled Spirit Borns so we can enslave its people. Now we've been flung into the sky, and those bloody fish are chewing through barriers thick enough to stop an army!"

He didn't answer. How could he? He didn't know. He had no idea who had erected this dome around them, or who had summoned these monstrosities—and as their leader, admitting that would get him killed far faster than the piranhas ever would.

He had some inkling, theories, it could be the so-called village lord. But that was some wild theory and such a hypothesis had no place in such dire circumstances.

Ren's action him back to the present. The vampire had stepped away from the barrier, where prismatic sparks crackled from the accumulated damage of each bite. Then came the sound—a sharp, high crack—and the dome splintered into a thousand pieces.

The vampires who had been trembling moments ago now stood utterly still, pale as carved marble. Numian's body screamed at him to run. Blood drenched him. The jaws of a piranha came within inches of his face, near enough that he could feel the raw, visceral hunger radiating from it.

So this is how it ends...

And then fate changed its mind.

Through the jaws and the blood and the crimson-stained sky, he saw strands of gold swaying with the wind—as though the wind were a servant and the strands its sovereign. A pair of ruby eyes regarded him from within that gold, utterly indifferent, as the figure raised one arm.

A voice cut clean through the blood, the flesh, and everything consuming it.

"[Wind Chant]"

The howling sky fell silent. The devouring monstrosities crashed against a renewed barrier of rippling translucent green. The sound of something being severed rang out as shield after shield of wind layered atop one another, until all Numian could see were barriers stacked upon barriers.

Ren spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fifty layers of wind shield…"

Numian felt his heart straining against his ribs, unable to comprehend how a single figure had erected so many in one breath.

But perhaps he had spoken too soon—because what came next made everything prior look like a warm-up.

A voice, chillingly indifferent, announced an omen of destruction.

"[Triple Layer Sword Wave]”

Author Note: if you wish to read upto chapter 58 and support the story, consider checking out my Patreon! And thanks alot for dropping by!