"One got away." That ogre ran like a rat. Never in my life did I think I'd see a monster flee from battle. How can they be so intelligent? How can they speak? How can they react that way?

In all the books I read or the stories I heard, no one ever mentioned a grade-three monster with such intelligence. Usually, they only become rational starting at grade five. Something is going on in that fortress—and it stinks. I better hurry.

I sit near where the ogres keep watch, hidden up in the treetops, eating and recovering all my mana. At this moment, my thoughts are piling up. I still can't believe everything that's happened. My mind struggles to understand how they can be so intelligent, and I finally start considering their strange behavior. Could it be the work of humans? That organization is evil, according to Sus, and its leaders are quite strong... it's the only possibility, the only logical explanation I can think of. Anticipation creeps into my body and mind. I need to finish this dungeon before I cross paths with them.

With my mana fully recharged and my frozen core blocking useless thoughts, I prepare for what's coming. I don't know if I'll be able to finish them all in one strike. I need to be ready to escape and try again as many times as necessary.

I dash out from the trees at full speed toward the gate. I hear the ogres atop the walls shouting something I can't understand. A version-three sphere flies straight toward the fortress gate. The power of my attack is impossible to stop with just simple wooden doors.

I only take a few steps inside before stopping. I must secure this entry point at all costs—it's the easiest escape route once I run out of mana. As the ogres enter, they feel the pressure of my gravity field. It's strong enough to hold for thirty minutes as long as I conserve mana in other spells. My swords move quickly, slicing the first two ogres. Their screams echo against the ground. With a couple of version-two spheres aimed directly at their heads, they die.

The spheres don't completely destroy their heads, but they deal enough damage as long as I aim well, and I'm saving as much mana on the spheres as I can.

These ogres are dumber compared to the group of ten. It's a bit easier to take them out with simple strikes. A well-placed cut near the heart, neck, or head is enough to kill or bring them to the brink of death.

I expected to fight a few, but this is unsustainable—the number of ogres is ridiculous. They slowly force me back while their bodies pile up on the ground, some dying, others screaming in pain.

They push me out of the fortress. I can move more freely in the open space, killing them little by little in the process. Cuts begin to appear on my abdomen, arms, and legs. I heal my wounds once the accumulated damage makes it hard to move.

There's no end to this. Even though I try to conserve mana by only using version-two or version-three spheres, it's impossible to maintain—it drains faster than I expected. "I can keep fighting for ten more minutes."

I'm getting closer to the trees where I was hiding earlier. As I enter the forest, the ogres stop and begin retreating. "What's going on?" Their actions freeze me in place for a moment. My brain can't comprehend what the ogres are doing. Is someone controlling them? That's the first thought in my head. This kind of senseless action only happens when someone is being manipulated. I step out of the forest, and they come charging at me again like madmen.

The slaughter resumes. Their attacks grow more erratic, as if they're all in a state of frenzy. In one-on-one combat, this berserk state works to my advantage. But when fighting a crowd, it's dangerous.

I start taking more cuts, scratches, even punches. My head and chest remain protected—these hits won't faze my reinforced construction, powered by Imra and a pseudo law. But the rest of my body is bleeding bit by bit.

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Using vital synthesis to heal wounds is one thing. Healing stamina and blood loss is a whole other issue—the mana cost is double or more depending on the situation. Slowly, they force me back. They're trying to corner me against a nearby mountain.

I use two charges to reposition near the forest. I need a lifeline in case of emergency. I don't know how many ogres I've killed in this assault. Around 100, I estimate. The rest are lying on the ground, agonizing. I can't give them a final blow all at once.

I keep fighting wave after wave of ogres, using charges to finish some off on the ground, then using more to get away from them. Every move costs mana. Little by little, my reserves keep dropping.

"Idiots, just die already." I construct nearly ten version-four spheres at once and launch them all at the ogres in front of me. They don't even try to dodge and die instantly.

I take that opportunity to escape. The ogres' bodies block pursuit for a few seconds—just enough for me to use several charges of electrified steps and get away.

"I don't have much mana left, and I'm exhausted." As I get farther from the fortress, my body begins to feel the full weight. The exhaustion is not just physical—it's mental, magical, and emotional. I can't remember the last time I pushed myself this hard. Along the way, I used every one of my abilities.

My body took damage every few seconds, which I healed instantly. My mana was drained in every possible way, leading me to this point.

I sit down at a safe distance to rest. I start by eating to regain energy and drinking liters of water to refresh my parched throat.

How many did I kill in the end? I try to tally all those I killed in the past twenty minutes. Maybe fifteen to twenty per minute? If I'm optimistic, that's about 400 total—that's a pretty good number for a first encounter.

I climb up a massive tree. Thanks to my Domain, I sensed a small hollow in its trunk. I sit inside to take a nap—high enough to react to any threat and hidden well enough not to be found easily.

My Domain stays active as I drift off. My eyes close slowly from exhaustion until I fall into a deep sleep.

Even after the nap, my body hasn't fully recovered. My muscles are sore like I went to the gym every day. My mind's still a bit foggy. I hydrate a bit more and drift back to sleep.

In total, I slept almost nine hours. My mind is now clear, my mana nearly full. My body is still sore, but that won't stop me from going back to hunt my ogre friends.

I jump down from the tree and begin stretching. I walk toward the fortress's other entrance. The first one is buried under ogre corpses and blood scattered in every direction—moving through that terrain wouldn't be easy.

This world consumes the dead much faster. A corpse completely vanishes after two days on the ground—the world "absorbs" it and turns it back into mana. I'm amazed it can distinguish between something someone took and something left behind.

I rub my forehead at that thought. I'm in a world where magic exists, where there are levels, grades, and laws. I also have a voice that speaks directly to my brain. Figuring out what's useful and what's not is a bit easier here.

"Already waiting for me, huh?" I can see how the number of ogres on the wall has increased. The amount is ridiculous just to defend against a twelve-year-old boy.

The gate is broken again by a sphere blast. This time, they don't charge at me. They stay near the wall, waiting. "That makes things easier."

Version-three and version-four spheres fly toward them. With so many monsters grouped together, it's easy to hit and kill them. One sphere means at least one dead ogre. I keep playing target practice with them.

Their eyes look different. They're not under control, but they seem to be following orders. They won't attack unless I step into the fortress.

I take full advantage of this opportunity—sphere after sphere flies their way. After killing a few, I switch up my constructions. Swords begin appearing at my side.

Swords consume more mana but can kill more ogres if I pierce through one and hit the one behind. "Is there a law related to sharpness or cutting?" If there is, I need to get it. I make a mental note to ask Grandma. I'll probably forget all these notes anyway...

After killing over a hundred ogres, I start noticing a shift. Their eyes change—and they come charging at me. "Finally, make it fun."

My swords begin to move, slashing at the first ones—chest, arms, legs, heads—from every angle with unpredictable patterns. I slowly retreat as their bodies pile up in the sand. One step back means several cuts forward.

The battle resumes. My body reacts to every tiny movement within my Domain. My swords already know their next direction after every swing. My brain, boosted by electric affinity, gives my reflexes a slight edge.

Familiar rock spikes fly toward me. I dodge with a quick charge of my skill. "Back again after running like a rat." That ogre mage returns for his rematch.

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