The wind brushed against his cheeks.

Moen leapt forward, as if willingly throwing himself into the monster's embrace.

Aluka's face lit up with delight. She extended her hand, like a gentle wife welcoming her beloved home in the deep of night.

If only she didn’t extend hundreds of hands at once.

"Now!"

Sensing the moment was right, Moen roared abruptly.

And then, the sound of steel resounded!

A forest of cold, gleaming metal spikes erupted from the ground and tore into the monster’s body.

Countless sharp blades interlocked, grinding and slicing every inch of malformed flesh. The clashing steel vibrated with intensity, composing a symphony of bloodshed and death.

It was like an ironclad, spiked war chariot crashing into a massive slab of flesh. In an instant, the monster’s grotesque body split open with several ghastly wounds.

"Ah—"

Aluka screamed.

But her tone carried no trace of pain.

Instead, it sounded... excited.

She twisted the face embedded in her own writhing flesh to gaze at the maid who wielded the steel not far away.

"Master, so you're back!"

"Yes, I’m back, Aluka."

Ann exhaled gently.

She folded her hands over her abdomen and straightened her back, maintaining the perfect posture of an impeccable maid.

She gazed unwaveringly at Aluka—the same Aluka who had nearly shattered her psychological defenses not long ago. The maid’s determined stare fixed itself on those hundreds of faces, each howling out declarations of love and despair.

This time, with firm eyes.

"I’ve come to save you."

"Huh, something feels different about Master. Could it be my imagination?"

Aluka hesitated for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle.

"Never mind. That doesn’t matter. As long as you’re Master, that’s enough for me."

"Master, you’ll accept my love too, won’t you? After all, you're the one that understand me, aren't you?"

"I love you, Master!"

Hundreds of faces roared in unison, their soundwave reverberating through the steel, making it tremble.

The grotesque flesh began writhing again, and the deep wounds healed in just a few short breaths.

Fresh flesh extended across the steel, spreading like rust—or perhaps like fungal colonies. The corroded metal quickly lost its original properties, crumbling into useless dust that dissipated into the wind.

Ann’s gaze darkened slightly. New steel condensed by her side, and she sent it once more toward the twisted monster.

The monster didn’t hesitate and lunged forward to meet her.

A new round of combat commenced.

It was like an eternal clash between beasts—neither willing to die nor retreat.

Meanwhile…

Moen dashed along a pathway forged from steel, racing straight toward Aluka’s head within the heart of the monster.

In front of him, sharp blades spun and sliced through the grotesque, ever-growing, ever-creeping masses of flesh, as if cutting down swaths of grass.

But no matter how sharp the blades, against the overwhelming numbers of endlessly regenerating flesh, there were always gaps left unchecked.

When faced with horrifying and seemingly infinite masses, even the smallest overlooked tendrils could suffocate him.

Numerous limbs reached for Moen from all angles, as if to seal every escape route completely.

Several faces turned toward him and sneered, as if already envisioning the moment fresh prey blended with their own twisted forms.

Love should be shared. So should pain.

After all, why should we be the only ones turned into this?

"Heh, looks like I’ve been underestimated."

Moen chuckled self-mockingly.

Despite he's the one distracting the monster, Aluka’s attention clearly remained focused on Ann. Only a few faces had been spared to monitor him—she evidently didn’t view him as a threat.

But wasn’t that a good thing?

No—that was fantastic.

It was far more perfect than expected.

Sneak into the village, shoot but don’t get caught.

A tactic Moen hadn’t even dared to dream of was now realized, ironically thanks to Aluka’s obsession with Ann.

Moen grinned widely, laughing silently.

He raised his hands as though grasping something.

And, as though sensing Moen’s need through their synchronized minds, Ann took action.

Twin curved daggers materialized immediately in Moen’s hands.

They were weapons Moen had previously requested Ann to craft for him.

He had noticed it when he had used the machetes before — the lighter knives felt more natural for a woman, he personally could better utilize the powerful momentum of short blades.

Moreover, the short blade’s design didn’t hinder his proficiency in dagger combat techniques at all!

It was a *win-win* scenario, pure and simple.

"Take this—my spinning flash blade strike!"

Moen leapt up. The blades in his hands crossed, their light shining like an afterimage, slicing through the grotesque limbs extending toward him.

Blood splattered.

Ann’s forged blades were lethally sharp.

The cage of limbs constructed to trap him was split open in an instant.

Fresh limbs surged forth, desperate to seal the gap.

But it was too late.

*Shadow Step*!

The powerful movement technique of a terminal assassin was displayed once again, transforming Moen’s figure into a shadowy blur that darted through the opening.

Indeed, just as he himself had admitted, he only knew three tricks.

But damn—they worked!

Who doesn’t love a cooldown-free teleport?

As long as he wasn’t interrupted by techniques like the scarred face’s, this move was unrivaled in terms of mobility!

And you, a grotesque abomination corrupted by a dark god—how can you use combat techniques against me?

Moen sneered inwardly.

With the gap pierced through, nothing could obstruct his progress anymore.

He charged forward unrelentingly, swiftly closing the distance to the monster’s belly, where Aluka’s head was embedded.

Just a bit further!

Moen’s gaze sparkled with delight—a mere two more *Shadow Step* jumps, and he’d reach Aluka’s head!

"Wait for me, Aluka! Allow me to properly—huh?"

His arrogant cackle abruptly came to a halt.

Danger surged unexpectedly!

Within the writhing mass of limbs, an entirely different arm emerged—distinct, abnormal amongst the twisted chaos.

Hold on—among these contorted shapes, wasn’t the abnormality actually the *normalcy*?

It was a human arm.

Thick, powerful.

Its muscles coiled like serpentine ropes.

It extended its palm toward Moen, its fingers curling abruptly.

Mimicking an animal’s claw.

And with this motion, a *thunderous boom* erupted from its fingers!

Moen felt his mind buzz and his chest tighten as he was struck by a devastating shockwave.

Unable to suppress a grunt, his battle aura and blood surged uncontrollably within him.

Even the *Shadow Step* he had intended to execute was forcibly interrupted!

"What the hell?!"

Moen steadied his footing, his gaze filled with alarm as he locked onto the arm.

*A combat technique!*

It really was a damn combat technique!

And one even more intricate than the scarred man’s earlier technique!

Getting silenced and unable to cast his techniques are what he could accept, but having his teleport forcibly interrupted?

Huh?! HUH?!

Did someone hire a *League of Legends* scripter?!

Explain the mechanics already!

"Woof."

Just as Moen’s thoughts spiraled wildly from shock, a familiar canine bark reached his ears.

"This can’t be…"

His dumbfounded gaze froze.

The muscular arm lowered, its large palm pressing against the writhing flesh before abruptly lifting.

A figure Moen recognized climbed out of the bloody tissue, supported by the arm.

In an instant, Moen identified him.

That dog-man.

Aluka’s husband.

He stood stark naked, still adorned with those ridiculous "ornaments."

Except now, as he blocked Moen’s path, his aura was completely different.

This wasn’t a dog.

It was a ferocious beast.