Many of the trees stood tall together and would collapse as one like a trail of dominos. Quintin peered into the campsite, after ensuring the layout. Of course, that was a hands-off process, for obvious reasons.

He snuck up closer, relying on the thick vegetation for cover. That did nothing to mask the snapping twigs underfoot though. If the plan relied on deception, this would have been a critical misstep. However, he was the bait, and bet on the enemy's awareness of the so-called blunder.

Movement from the perimeter made him halt and take aim at the [Meadow Ghast]. It scanned around, in search of his identity. Faster than he could pop his pinky finger, the ghast saw him and screeched out in alarm. The rest of the camp, having registered the sound, immediately dropped what they were doing.

The onrush made the ground tremble. Their stupid feet wrecked the architecture of nature in a wild stampede toward the action. His presence alone stirred up far more trouble than he thought possible. A wicked smile formed on his face as he cracked the bottom three fingers in tandem.

The three missiles broke through the underbrush with a whistle-like sound. The only one that mattered tore through the [Meadow Ghast's] eye and exploded out the back of its skull.

Quintin cursed loudly, "Damn! Soon the whole world will fear my name; Trueshot!"

Many of the combatants reached the slain corpse in time to hear his exclamation. Some swore in protest, while others didn't bother. Instead, quickening the pace with which they sought the trespasser.

At this time, the command tent flapped open. A golden-scaled [Dragonkin] bent under the entrance frame and stood tall on exiting. He was a giant. A ten-foot-tall bundle of muscle and radiant glimmering. He wore a poofy animal hide below the waist and left everything above open to the elements. The pride in his physique was unmistakable.

The dragonkin sucked in a deep breath and shouted, "Warriors, halt!"

Like clockwork, the ones charging headlong into battle came to a sudden stop. Which proved to be a fatal mistake, as now they opened themselves up to Quintin's indiscriminate shooting. Arms, legs, hearts, and minds became faucets of spilling blood in mere moments.

Quintin was quick to criticize, "What's next? Gonna lay down and die for me too?"

This had the intended effect of pissing off the remainder, including the dragonkin. Veins bulged from his forehead as he took a squatting stance. The barrel-like muscles in his legs strained as he shot straight up. The dragonkin took flight at the apex of the jump with wings that spread open from a rippling back.

"Shit, time to go!" Quintin exclaimed.

From his seat on high, the vibrant wyrm commanded, "After him! Don't let the human escape!"

He didn't forget to [Identify] the [Dragonkin], nor fire off potshots on the way out.

[Golden Dragonkin Prince] Lv. ??

-Captive Dragonkin

-Top Specimen

-Royalty

The blood of a giant flows through this one's veins.

A peak existence within the tribal hierarchy of Dragonkin society. Now, only considered an amusing pet within Cramie's menagerie.

*Flyer

*Blood of a Giant

Even though Quintin had a head start, a few of the creatures were even faster. A seven-meter-long Centipede with hundreds of legs scurried closely by his heels. The things mandibles pushed up against his lower leg. It found cold, imbued metal instead of meat as the pincers clashed off without effect.

With [Sinisphere] active, he knew what it was doing, and more importantly, where it would be. As such, when it came in for another bite, he drew his foot away at the last moment. He kicked down on its head like a horse. The exoskeletal segment met with his pressurized stomp and conceded its brainy meat fluids at once.

Quintin used the insectoid's body momentum to pivot onward. "Big bug, but still just a bug."

"Yes, you are!" The gruff affirmation caused him to look over his shoulder with a frown.

The voice belonged to a minotaur, one of two he saw earlier. Dealing with the centipede had taken very little time. However, even that much meant the beast troopers were now within ten meters of him.

A crowd of thirty on his trail and nowhere to go, but instead of open worry he smirked. Upon seeing the first unstable tree, he sped up, provoking them along the way,

"Catch me if you can!"

He refrained from using [Lotus Path] for the entire chase. When he chose to activate the [Skill], it left the pursuers in the dust at the final stretch. In no time, he arrived safely at the starting tile, at the back of the setup.

Uncertain of how much damage the trap would cause, he pressed his palm against the bark. "Here goes nothing."

He exerted all the strength he could muster into his arm. With extra help from [Pressure Points], the tree felt weightless under his firm push. The surprising gusto therein made the tree dislodge itself from the cut with no resistance whatsoever. It toppled so quickly that he could barely blink before the others were also affected.

One became two, and in no time at all, all forty trees began to fall in earthbound concert. A [Buckle-Gut Goblin] became the first imprint as the monstrous hoard looked on in terror. Each tree was a scholar of death's design. The impacts spelt out doom-laden cursive. Their bluntness created bloody shapes, in place of where vigorous bodies once existed.

In the din of chaos, he did not notice the resplendent wyrm descending from the skies. Though, by the time he did, it wasn't the golden [Dragonkin] he saw. A bundle of black balloons with thick cable instead of string fell like a bolt of lightning into the giant's unguarded back. The unholy perversion skewered the last of the dragonkin controllers like a tent spike in front of him.

Quintin's unamused expression was priceless, "Did those balloons just hijack my experience?"