Fang was not like Ame. Fang was almost the exact opposite of Ame. Fang was not flashy. Fang did not have legendary skills, as far as Aren knew. Fang was not a champion of anything in the real world — he was just a normal kid. These two came from vastly different backgrounds. Ame, or so it was rumored, was related in some way to the Vassal Houses of the Shogunate. Fang’s family climbed up to pop-sec from the slums above the reactor.

The only thing they had in common was a warrior’s spirit and the desire to hone their martial art to its supreme point.

And yet, Fang was as oppressive in combat as Ame. The moment Fang landed from his long jump to intercept the group, his naginata — now free from its confinement of limited space — came upon the first howler with enough force to shatter its skeletal structure. He struck the beast so hard that it bounced off the floor. Helpless, in mid-air, the beast caught the lower haft of the polearm and was launched into the group trailing behind it. The rotating motion of Fang’s naginata brought the edge around for a horizontal slash that dismembered the closest howlers with a single move. Fang failed to kill any of the howlers, but he created a natural obstacle for the howlers.

The alpha then came around, climbing over its crippled companions, and launched itself at Fang while his weapon was still out of his control. Observing Fang's battle, Aren learned that looks can be deceiving. Fang turned his body and extended his elbow, striking the alpha in the throat. The beast yelped in confusion and surprise, but the sound was cut off by a downward swing of Fang’s fist. Now prone and helpless, Fang decapitated the alpha with his eastern polearm. The beast exploded into a black mist, leaving behind a dark blue vestige core.

Fang was not flashy. It was so obvious that it was worthy of reiterating it. In all the Junior Arena events, most people came to watch Ame’s stylish and impressive moves. But there was a small, but die-hard, group of fans that came to watch Fang. They realized that Fang was not flashy because he never used more than he had to. At times, this made him look like he could barely keep up. But he did keep up, no matter how much Ame raised the bar, or how much more impressive Ame became, Fang was always there, ready and willing to overcome the challenge.

At first, Aren was a little bit worried because Fang had died a few times before. In all fairness, he was ambushed once, outnumbered by adventurers, and then killed by Lightning Rider who was under an effect much like Unity and possibly an Epic or even Legendary creature. It would’ve been unfair to judge Fang, specifically, based on those past performances. The reason was that Fang was a tactician, first and foremost. Fighting Fang when he was prepared to fight on his terms was equal to suicide.

This time, Fang was more than prepared to fight. He engaged the group of howlers and held his naginata tucked between his side and elbow, pointing outwards, as if to make himself a scarecrow of sorts, to draw the howlers in. Even the two remaining alphas could not resist his taunting stance and began to pay attention to him, instead of the group behind him. They outnumbered him almost fifteen to one and by all rights, he should’ve been a quick conquest. But each time a howler leaped at Fang, it only met steel and then Fang’s sweeping, seemingly wild swings caught more howlers in the back. He did not give them a chance to swarm him or to overcome him with sheer numbers. Approaching Fang was nearly impossible, and Aren realized that the eastern warrior did not prioritize killing them — like Ame did — but only wished to stop them and keep them away from the group. In fact, the more howlers he felled, the more would stand in the way for any subsequent groups, and his tactic was simple and honest to a fault.

Meanwhile, Ame slaughtered howlers by the triplet or quadruplet with each swing of his sword. His blade left an abyssal inky trail behind itself, which itself glittered with arcane particles. With each stroke, eruptions of blood followed and limbs went flying. The landscape around Ame changed considerably, creating ravines and cliffs — only a few meters deep, however — but the terrain quickly became so chaotic that it was difficult to navigate. If anything, by this point, Ame had done more than enough to not only slow the howlers down but also to thin their numbers.

Everyone was aware of how taxing this was to one’s spiritual and physical reserves. Spiritual magic — the kind used by pure warriors — did not have the potency of Arcane magic, theoretical mana point for mana point. This was common knowledge. Spiritual magic was simpler to use, and the sequences were much shorter. For a warrior, running out of energy was the expected outcome, instead of blowing their buffer. In reality, warriors often did blow their buffer, but the recovery times were so much shorter that it generally seemed like they never had cooldown periods.

Ame, on the other hand, showed the group what high-level warrior combat looked like. Not only did he make Arcane magic look silly and weak, but his relentless attacks had pushed the tides of howlers back to the entrance point and obliterated all natural paths leading towards the group, forcing the beasts to climb hills and crawl through tunnels, only to then die to his sword.

If Ame so wanted it, he could’ve likely collapsed the floor under them, or collapsed the ceiling of the safe point on top of them, but he chose not to. Why would he? He looked like he was enjoying himself. He was truly testing the limits of his power here, and perhaps that is what Ame meant when he said that fighting against countless adventurers in Rakab would be a good opportunity. It was an opportunity to fight to his heart’s content with no care in the world. Even if he died, there was no punishment waiting for him except for perhaps a small hit to his reputation. On the other hand, victory meant incredible fame across the entire world.

Fang probably did not care as much about fame as Ame did. Aren had the feeling that Fang may have thought of fame as a nice bonus. Aren himself did not really care about money or fame — it was something he simply went along with for the group’s sake. Aren was happy that his friends were happy about the prospects of the future, and maybe Fang was similar in that.

While lost in his thoughts and watching Fang, a loud bang echoed through the chamber, and a glittering spray of steel shot up into the air from the entrance, and steel fragments rained around the group. Ame came flying backward, having jumped back, holding in his hands only the hilt of his sword, while the steel blade was entirely missing save for the tiny crumbling stump near the hilt guard.

Ame’s expression betrayed a mix of confusion, joy, and fear. It was an expression only a warrior could possess. It was likely an emotion only a warrior could feel. Aren immediately understood what it meant. Ame had finally found someone or something that was not only stronger than him but exceeded him by so much that his eyes were opened to how much he still had to learn and how much he could still grow.

Ame backstepped towards Fang, stopping near his rival’s hip, and then drew his other sword, a normal and traditional Sector-16 katana.

“We may have a problem,” Ame said, smiling. Despite the cold sweat gracing his features, he was still smiling. “It struck me from the shadows and I didn’t see it clearly. I even blew my buffer parrying, but it still smashed my sword to bits.”

“Was it a howler?” Fang asked, holding his naginata in a defensive manner. The howlers stopped trying to attack him, and now simply circled him.

“Big,” Ame said. “Like an animal made of steel and blades.”

[ Arcane Predator: Prey identity discovered. Malevolent Sword Spirit ]

[ Arcane Predator: The was once a vassal of the Queen of Monsters before it became the dungeon guardian of the Catacombs beneath Rakab. It was tasked to maintain the dungeon, allowing beasts to proliferate up to a certain number while culling those that showed dangerous evolution patterns or exceeded the strength parameters of the dungeon. Since then, the guardian of the Catacombs has willingly chosen to become demonic, abandoning its former task. ]

[ Arcane Predator: Subjugate the . ]

A dark presence unfurled into the safe point chamber. Estella shivered from head to toe, suddenly bristling with both ferocity and caution, like a cornered beast.

As Aren watched the howlers swarm into the safe point, he realized something that had been gnawing on the edge of his perception since the moment they entered the Catacombs. The reason he felt such sudden and powerful uneasiness was because of the . Since he became aware of it through the passive [Arcane Predator] ability, he was subjected to its tyrannical presence.

The reason the howlers acted in such unintelligent ways was not because they were hunting the group of adventurers, but because they were running from the true monster of the depths. It was not only the mechanism that once slaughtered them by the dozens, but now it was a demonic incarnation of that mechanism, and it no longer obeyed any rules.

After observing adventurers, years past, the monsters learned that there was only one safe place in this stratum of the dungeon. So they ran for the safe point, only to find the group of adventurers here.

Goosebumps appeared on Aren’s arms and he struggled beneath the increasing pressure of the monster’s presence. It was there, just out of sight, like a Lovecraftian monster.

Nissa was the only one to see something with her enhanced vision, and she was pacing backward, subconsciously, until she walked into Aren. She yelped, jumping away from him but then quickly realized that Aren was a comrade. She glared towards the entrance, her pupils blown out.

“Cassandra, firewall!” Fang shouted. He also realized that something unexpected was happening. Both he and Ame were disengaging from the howlers, and slowly walking towards the group while facing the monsters and entrance.

“I can’t,” Cassandra called back. “Cooldown.”

Fang briefly looked at Aren, as if to query if the lightning blade had information to share. His instinct was on point, but Aren barely registered Fang. Aren could not see the monster, but he knew it was there. He could almost see it if he closed his eyes. It is as if he knew where it was and what it might look like — its general shape and size. It was identical to what Ame said. It was big and made of blades.

A death line began to form in Aren’s vision, and before the terror could completely crush him, he opened his buffer.

Yet, even under the buffer’s calming effect, he could not shake off the ominous feeling that he was going to die. This feeling was not fear itself, but something akin to prescient knowledge. A part of him — perhaps the one merged with an AGMI — only saw a future in which he and everyone else died a miserable death.

The death line didn't feel like it belonged to him.

“Camille,” he whispered. “Help.”