Monsters began to pour into the former safe point. They displayed a complete lack of tactics and simply rushed towards the group. There were dozens of them, and more kept coming, seemingly an endless tide of shadowy creatures.

Even so, no one else seemed to share Aren’s concern. Was Leviathan trying to warn him about something? Was it [Arcane Predator] trying to tell him something? He didn’t know, but he was sure of one thing — the feeling was not natural.

Sure, facing down dozens of monsters was a terrifying prospect by itself, but even now, Fang continued to smile.

It was scary, but their group had two Junior Arena champions. On top of that, they also had absurd buffs from the Light Pantheon. Ame, in particular, with Unity buffs was probably a terrifying fighting force. Fang also, of course. In fact, everyone was. This was a dungeon in Rakab — in the middle of the continent. There were no official beginner areas, but the deepest explored part of this dungeon was supposedly a mediocre challenge for a beginner raid party of ten to twenty people — adventurers with effective skill levels of up to expert. Their entire group, except Cassandra, were all above an effective skill level of Master and they had not yet even managed to get into the Labyrinth.

Of course, the monsters stood more than a chance if they managed to ambush an exhausted group of such fighters, but Fang had read their strategy and made it part of his own. They weren’t the ones who were ambushed — the monsters were.

The moment they poured through the cave opening, Nissa fired a spectral arrow, which she prepared in advance, into the air above the first group of monsters. The arrow left a glittering trail of particles as it arced high above and then seemingly struck something.

Suddenly, arrows poured out of the empty air, raining down on the first pack of a dozen or so monsters, each one ethereal and trailing the same kind of glittering dust. Howls, snarls, and yelps filled the chamber, despite its vast and open nature. The rain of arrows managed to kill only two howlers, but the others were so injured that they could barely move forward.

Sure, it was difficult to kill Howlers, but they were not immortal. They could still feel pain, and, except for fatal blows that did not decapitate them or destroy their cores, their wounds wouldn’t heal. When wounded, they bled as a normal creature would. Many of them crawled towards the group, impaled by multiple arrows, producing an eerie sound as the phantasmal arrows remained stuck in them, and their arrowheads scraped against the stone-paved path.

As more creatures stormed the safe point, and the closest group had reached halfway to their position, Fang finally gave the order. “Now!”

When Nissa said that she set traps, Aren assumed that she meant traps with an activating mechanism, like a pressure plate. Certainly, the cyan-glowing rune mark on the ground seemed like it was part of such an activating mechanism. Arcane Archer was a class that was fairly rare and unpopular because of the long preparation times, incredibly complex sequences, and, most of all, outrageous energy costs. It was also not suitable for duels, or even group battles, but a crafty archer might pick up Sniper or Ranger skill-sets.

Arcane Archer, to put it bluntly, was a Siege weapon. A very expensive one. Only major Alliances ran with such classes because they were incredibly useful in Alliance Wars — not even big clans ran the risks or expenses to operate such a weapon. Nissa didn’t care about such trivial problems. She once said that she simply liked the class and the idea of using phantasmal arrows. That was why she never managed to join a clan — especially not the clan that their schoolmates started. No one could afford her.

But even without proper equipment, and only able to utilize less than a third of the potential of the class, Nissa was terrifying. When Fang gave the command, Nissa snapped her fingers.

The points Nissa shot earlier suddenly became shrouded in a white-cyan glow and then exploded, launching a stream of hundreds of ten to twenty centimeter long phantasmal darts towards the rushing howlers. In less than a second, from the moment Nissa activated her trap, the flechette-like technique had painted the ground red and created an unrecognizable mass and natural barrier of what was once more than twenty howlers. They weren’t dead, but if they could feel anything at all, other than pain, then they were probably wishing they were dead.

It was brutal and effective. First, Nissa slowed the first group down with the rain of arrows, and when enough monsters entered the death funnel — the trap — she obliterated them with what was essentially a modern weapon. Considering the fact that many techniques in Singularity were invented by players, Nissa’s technique may very well have been an imitation of a flechette artillery round.

Nissa had killed almost a third of the entire group, with the rest either completely immobilized or too crippled to function as anything more than an obstacle for the creatures still swarming into the area.

It was an endless horde and there was no end in sight. The entrance was a continuous stream of shadow-like creatures that blended together to form something that resembled a mass rather than individual creatures.

And still, Fang’s smile remained on his face, inspiring confidence. Perhaps feeling Aren’s gaze, the eastern warlord turned his head to look at Aren, and his smile became even bigger. “Don’t worry,” he said, leaning on his naginata. “In tight spaces, none of us can fight that well if our group is too big. Nissa has some neat tricks though, but you haven't seen them yet.”

He didn’t add anything to that. Nothing more needed to be said. Everything else could be shown. It was true that Aren never saw Nissa’s true skill-set. The few times he saw her fight was against small groups of goblins and orcs, but never like this. The fact that she blew her buffer after just a few of those extremely large-scale effects reminded Aren that he was not particularly special. The difference was that Nissa spent years perfecting her art, and Aren had played for less than a month.

Aren suddenly felt like he wanted to contribute to the battle, at least in some way, despite the uneasiness he felt. Perhaps he couldn’t use [Lightning Driver], but [Discharge] was probably safe, especially against large groups like this.

But as Aren reached for a throwing knife, Fang said, “Let us handle this.”

Aren looked at Fang quizzically.

“Aren, don’t misunderstand me,” Fang said. “It is not because we don’t need you in this battle, or that we think you are useless.”

Fang glanced at Ame and nodded his head to the blademaster.

Ame placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and took a few steps towards the rushing horde of howlers.

“It is the opposite,” Fang continued. “If something goes wrong, you are our best hope of getting out of here alive. We need you fresh to either run like hell, or if possible, defeat whatever happens to come our way. Something about this doesn’t feel right. It is too easy.”

Fang managed to dispel the greatest source of Aren’s unrest — the idea that he was useless — while also reinforcing a new source of unease. Even Fang felt something was off. In truth, everyone most likely felt that way. The clever ruse in the tunnels displayed far greater strategic competence than this endless, mindless horde of howlers coming at them.

“So this time,” Fang said. “Let us show off. Let us build up the trust we have in each other. If we can’t trust each other, it doesn’t matter how strong any one of us is individually, this is as far as we’ll ever go.”

Aren lowered his head. The words dealt a fatal blow to his heart. This entire time Aren felt like it was all about him — it wasn’t a conscious thing, though. He didn’t want to share with the group more than he had to, and he always acted like he alone had to carry a heavy burden. Meanwhile, Fang and the others were trying to find ways to be equals and to fairly share the burdens and duties that they all had to carry. They were thinking about the future of Exalt, while Aren was obsessed with his own future.

He was foolish.

Aren smiled, feeling a bit of relief come over him. “I will protect Nissa and Cassandra. Show off as much as you like,” Aren said.

Ame smirked slightly, but Fang’s expression did not change. Still, Aren knew that Fang was pleased with the reply he got.

“I will be going ahead then,” Ame said and then launched himself forward. His feet barely even touched the ground, and it looked almost as if he was floating. He seemed completely desynchronized in a strange manner that was certainly part of his combat style. Even though he moved fast, the slowness with which he drew his weapon was a jarring and discomforting sight.

The horde of monsters had trouble climbing over or avoiding the first group of crippled and immobile monsters. They were perfectly capable of going around, but for some reason, they chose not to, instead trying to go for the straightest, most linear path available.

This was strange to Aren because when he fought these beasts they displayed a lot more intelligence than they did now.

Aren glanced at Estella, perhaps to see what she thought of this situation, but he could not see her expression. If anything, Estella cut a figure of both ease and focus as she stood at the front of the group, with her sword pierced into the ground, and both hands resting on the pommel. She looked excessively knightly.

Ame crossed the twenty or so meters that separated him from the horde of half-demonic wolves. His sword came free of its sheath and, trailing a white and gold light, carved through the front ranks of monsters.

Something like black blood shot into the air, mixing into the effects trailing the blade. The wake of the blade was not just a visual effect — it was an actual vortex formed by the vacuum the sword’s slash created. The initial pressure the slash exerted was enough to crush bones, while the subsequent rush of low-pressure — created when air rushed into the vacuum behind the sword — could rip and tear away flesh.

This was Ame’s [One Art] which virtually anyone who watched the Junior Arena was familiar with because it was simply that spectacular.

Then, the second wave of energy struck the same spot again, disconnected from the physical slash and lagging behind almost an entire second. This time, the second phantom slash was powerful enough to not only crush almost the entire front row of monsters but create a trench into the ground that was five meters wide and about a meter deep, launching blood, limbs, and debris into the air.

Howls of pain and fury filled the chamber.

Aren had never seen that technique before and its awesome power left the lightning blade speechless.

“That is Three Arts,” Fang said, glancing back at Aren with a smirk. “In the other world, Ame is a regional Kendo champion. That is why, in this world, he was invited into the Secret Sword Society, and he received the Sword Saint class. Of the many skills he could’ve picked, he went with One Art because it was the only one that could evolve, even though it was the weakest.”

Aren listened to Fang’s explanation as he watched Ame crush his way through the front line of monsters, embedding himself into the heart of their swarming numbers, completely surrounded. This is where Ame belonged, in the very heart of the fray. Each time a howler jumped to take a bite out of Ame, heads, and limbs went flying as Ame’s paint-brush-like sword left trails of evaporating blood in its wake.

“Now, after evolving twice, it is a Legendary Skill,” Fang said. “One Art to kill demons. Two Arts to slaughter armies. Three Arts to subjugate Heaven and Earth. It is the unification of Heart, Mind, and Emptiness.”

As if to accent the words, a roiling torrent of energy shot forward from Ame’s sword, towards the entrance, ripping up the ground and creating jagged spikes along the path. Dozens of monsters were pierced and impaled by these spikes before the subsequent blade of pressure even reached them. When the blade of pressure did reach them, they were cut apart by extreme changes in pressure.

Within moments, over half a dozen vestige cores littered the ground from the monsters that were decapitated, but many more monsters were not so lucky. Some of the vestige cores were green, but most of them were a brownish-grey color.

They were fewer in number now, but monsters continued pouring into the safe point. This time, the trailing groups avoided Ame and the monsters surrounding him, going straight towards the group of adventurers in the back. This time, the monsters acted with more intelligence, and that was possibly because within their ranks were three bigger howlers that Aren thought of as alphas. Aren felt like the alphas were the leaders because the smaller howlers acted differently each time the bigger ones barked as if giving commands.

“My turn,” Fang said, stepping forwards. “Estella, I’ll leave defense to you.”

Estella nodded. “As you wish.”

Aren stared at Fang. It was truly a heroic moment for the eastern warrior. Aren also felt like there was no way that Fang could one-up Ame’s performance or Nissa’s destructive power.

Nissa perhaps guessed Aren’s thoughts and chuckled. “In a mock duel, a few weeks back, Fang actually defeated Ame. Don’t write him off that soon. Ame isn’t the only one that improved since the last tournament.”

Aren pondered Nissa's mysterious, yet proud smile. Was everyone in this group a monster?