The Direwolf Pack was a nightmare made flesh—bloodthirsty, savage, and each the size of a young bull. Their sheer bulk alone gave them a terrifying edge. The average Lizardfolk warrior didn't stand a chance.

And leading them was the Alpha Direwolf—an SS-class beast, a hulking brute of raw muscle and primal fury. It was unstoppable.

"These Direwolves are too strong!"

"We can't beat them... not even close!"

"Is this... how we die?"

"..."

The Lizardfolk cried out in despair. It took ten of their warriors just to hold back a single Direwolf. The power gap was overwhelming.

And worse—more Direwolves kept pouring in from the shadows behind the front lines, their glowing eyes and snarling jaws spelling doom.

But just as the slaughter reached its peak—

A figure in a white shirt began to materialize in the middle of the battlefield, slow and steady, like a ghost stepping out of the mist.

Several Direwolves caught sight of him. Their bloodlust was already boiling over. With guttural growls, they lunged straight at him.

Ethan barely glanced their way.

And then—he unleashed it.

The Domain of the Dead.

The moment his power spread, the Direwolves froze mid-charge, like someone had hit pause on reality. Their bodies trembled violently, eyes wide with primal terror.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

One after another, the Direwolves exploded—flesh, bone, and blood bursting apart in a spray of gore. The ground was painted red.

But Ethan didn't stop. The Domain of the Dead kept expanding, rolling forward like a tidal wave of death.

The pressure was suffocating. In the blink of an eye, it swallowed the entire battlefield.

The once-rampaging Direwolves suddenly cowered, howling in agony.

"Awooo—! Awooooo—!"

Their bodies couldn't take it. The power crushed them from the inside out. One by one, they shattered—limbs torn, organs splattered, corpses collapsing in heaps.

The screams stopped. Just like that.

Ethan had arrived.

And with a single move, he silenced the chaos.

The Lizardfolk Chieftain and his warriors felt the crushing weight on their shoulders lift. They all turned, almost in unison, toward the source of salvation.

Moonlight filtered through the drifting blood mist, casting beams of silver across the battlefield. And there, standing tall in a white shirt, was Ethan—still as stone, framed by the swaying shadows of the trees behind him.

He looked like the ruler of this world.

The Voidborn Undying had taken the field.

The Lizardfolk were stunned.

"He's... so strong!"

"That's the power of the Voidborn Undying?"

"He... he's helping us?"

"..."

They murmured among themselves, voices trembling with awe and something else—something unfamiliar.

Gratitude.

They were a weak race, lives worth less than dirt. No one powerful had ever stood up for them before.

The Chieftain clenched his fists, jaw tight, eyes misting over. He'd once feared the Zombie Kings—but they had never harmed him. Meanwhile, the gods he worshipped had left him broken and bleeding.

From this day forward... the Lizardfolk would believe in someone else.

"..."

Then came Ricky, katana in hand, leading the White Robe Order as they arrived at the scene.

"Master, we've got a Direwolf Pack invasion on our hands," he reported, eyes scanning the carnage.

Ethan didn't even look at him. "Go. Kill them all."

It wasn't a request. It was a death sentence.

"You got it!" Ricky's eyes lit up like a wildfire. With a grin, he charged forward like a wild stallion, katana flashing.

A streak of blue light cut through the air—one swing, and a massive Direwolf dropped, cleaved clean through.

Veyra was right behind him. Her Hydro Blade shimmered in her hands as she sliced through another beast, cutting it in half. Its guts spilled across the ground in a steaming mess.

The White Robe Order was holding their own surprisingly well.

But the real game-changer was Ethan. The moment he unleashed the Domain of the Dead, the tide turned instantly. The Direwolves—once feral and unstoppable—were now trembling, their bloodlust snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Some even turned tail, trying to flee.

Ethan alone had seized control of the entire battlefield.

His power kept sweeping outward, shaking the earth beneath their feet. Trees cracked and splintered, exploding into fragments. And with them, entire packs of Direwolves were torn apart, reduced to nothing but clouds of blood mist.

The forest was drowning in red. It looked like a scene straight out of hell—merciless, relentless, a slaughterhouse with no end in sight.

In just a few seconds…

Ethan had wiped out over a thousand Direwolves.

The SS-class Alpha Direwolf, watching from the center of the chaos, felt its confidence drain away. The fury in its eyes vanished, replaced by raw fear. With a guttural snarl, it let out a retreat signal and turned to run.

But it didn't get far.

Standing in its path was Ricky, katana in hand, the blade glowing with a cold blue light. His expression was calm, but deadly serious.

Then the air around him shifted.

A surge of vengeful energy erupted from his body, forming a towering ghostly figure behind him—so massive it seemed to blot out half the sky. His aura spiked, reaching its peak.

"Slash."

The word was barely a whisper.

And then Ricky vanished.

The Alpha Direwolf's instincts screamed danger. It tried to dodge—but too late. A cold sting touched its neck. A thin red line appeared across its throat.

Ricky reappeared behind it, already sliding his katana back into its sheath.

Shhhk—

The Alpha Direwolf's head tilted, then dropped. Blood sprayed like a fountain as its body collapsed, crashing to the ground in a heap.

"You... have angered the gods," it rasped, voice fading. "And now... divine punishment will fall upon you..."

Its life drained away with those final words, eyes wide as it watched its pack being butchered, one after another, their deaths brutal and unforgiving.

"..."

Ethan didn't even blink.

Divine punishment? Please.

These beasts had attacked the Lizardfolk first, slaughtered them without mercy. And now that they were losing, they wanted to cry foul?

What a joke.

If you can't handle losing, don't start the fight.

Still, the White Robe Order wasn't about to let any of them escape. They chased down every last Direwolf, blades flashing, strikes merciless. No survivors.

Normally, Ethan wouldn't have cared if a few stragglers got away. Once the main threat was dealt with, he usually let the rest scatter.

But not this time.

This time, he wanted them all dead.

So Ricky led a pursuit deep into the woods, hunting down the final Direwolf. It took over an hour, but when they returned, the job was done.

Thousands of Direwolves. Not a single one left breathing.

Back in the Lizardfolk Clan Stronghold, the aftermath was grim. The place was already a mess, but now it was soaked in blood. Direwolf corpses lay everywhere, twisted and broken, their bodies sprawled across the ground like discarded meat.

It was a massacre.

But despite the victory, the Lizardfolk Chieftain didn't look relieved. In fact, he seemed more anxious than ever, pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath.

"This is bad... this is really bad... The gods must've noticed by now. They'll punish us for sure... We're doomed..."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Punish you for what?"

The Chieftain stopped pacing and turned to him, bowing slightly. "My lord... the gods see everything. They must've sensed that I've allied myself with you. That's why they sent the Direwolves to attack us."

Ethan didn't look surprised. "Yeah, that makes sense."

But the Chieftain frowned, confused. "But... when I pledged my loyalty to you, there were no outsiders around. And the gods are far, far away. How could they possibly know?"

"Parasitic monsters probably ratted you out," Ethan said casually.

Earlier that day, when he'd arrived at the stronghold, he'd killed a few humans on the way in. The SSS-level energy he released must've spooked the parasitic monsters nearby—they'd scattered immediately.

Which made Ethan suspect that this so-called "god" had a close connection to those things.

"Wait, what?" The Chieftain blinked. "It was just... the parasitic monsters?"

He looked stunned. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

So much for an all-knowing god.

"Here I was thinking this god was some all-powerful being... Turns out he's just got snitches."

...

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