Chapter 71: How Can Monsters Be Brainless?

The slaughter continued in an orderly fashion, and the number of monsters in the valley visibly dwindled.

No one showed any intention of stopping—the battle was progressing far too smoothly.

Although Paul was clearly exhausted, Allen remained full of energy.

"One hour has passed!"

Roalds, despite being caught up in the thrill of the hunt, remained calm and dutifully announced the time.

Rudy checked the magic power in his body—still abundant—and shouted down to Allen.

"Do we keep going?!"

Allen, slashing through the thinning tide of monsters, glanced toward the valley below.

Visually, more than half the monsters had been wiped out—perhaps even less remained.

"Most of them were taken out by Rudy's magic? Group magic really does clear mobs faster."

He blinked and couldn't help but marvel—they had killed so many monsters in just an hour. It was unexpectedly easy. Everything had gone so smoothly.

Allen smiled, turned to look at Paul, who was still hanging on through fatigue, and after a moment of silence, he said:

"Alright, let's call it a day. We've reduced their numbers enough. Rudy, do you have any idea how many you got?"

Rudy laughed.

"Half! Maybe even more! These D-rank monsters are really squishy. Some of them fell into the pile of corpses after just being grazed by magic. Are they playing dead?"

"They're not playing dead, are they?"

Allen smiled and looked at Paul, who exhaled and chuckled.

"Then let's go home, Uncle. I think we've done enough."

Paul, already at his limit after days in the forest, suddenly felt a surge of warmth at the mention of home—his wife and children flashing through his mind. With a burst of strength, he unleashed a powerful sword wave, scattering the mountain of monster corpses piled up in front of him and Allen.

"Alright! Let's go home!"

He sheathed his sword, glanced one last time at the valley full of monsters, and turned to walk away with Roalds, who had just descended from the tree and was grinning.

As Roalds took his first step, he turned back to glance at Allen.

Allen couldn't help but laugh at the pair's eagerness.

Are you kids done already? Paul is understandable—he's truly tired—but you, Roalds? You were just sitting in a tree. You could at least help your daughter down first, right?

He shook his head and looked up at the two younger ones still in the tree, staring at him with bright eyes. Allen leapt up, reaching out to carry them down by the waist.

But just as he was about to do so, Sylphy raised a hand to stop him.

She frowned slightly, eyeing the minced meat stuck to Allen's swordsman uniform in dismay. She lifted her hand and cast a wind-cleansing spell, blowing the debris from his body.

The red-flecked meat fluttered down like bloody snow.

Rudy, standing nearby, was still caught up in excitement as he looked around at the mountain of corpses, his face full of pride at the sight of their "spoils."

Allen lowered his gaze to Sylphy's focused expression. The setting sun lit up her soft green hair, fluttering in the wind magic. Her cheeks were bathed in a warm sunset glow.

The two remained silent, with only Rudy chattering to himself.

"I didn't expect monster hunting to be so easy. I never felt this way practicing with Father and Allen. But now I see—my magic is really useful. Huh? Did I see something? Why does the ground where Father split it look... weird?"

Allen was about to tease Rudy when, suddenly, a phrase from earlier flashed in his mind.

"Half! Maybe even more!"

"Some of them just fell into the corpse pile after being touched by magic and never got up again."

Images flickered in Allen's mind.

Dark, bottomless holes in the snowy trenches outside the forest.

His eyes snapped to Sylphy. He grabbed her hand mid-casting, making her jump in shock. Then he turned toward Rudy.

Beneath the aftermath of Paul's casual sword strike, black spheres dotted the newly exposed ground.

With "sensory flow" fully activated, the picture sharpened.

They weren't spheres.

They were holes.

Densely packed, dark holes.

Right then, Rudy's voice rang out with uncertainty.

"It looks like... a hole? Good thing I sealed the ground with ice. Otherwise, the hillside would've been dangerous. Father really knows what he's doing."

Allen's pupils shrank.

He yanked Sylphy into his arms—her eyes wide in surprise—and, with his other arm, scooped up Rudy mid-babble and tucked him under his armpit. He bent his knees, ready to leap. At the same time, he shouted toward Paul and Roalds, who had turned around after walking a short distance.

"Uncle! It's not over! The monsters—"

BOOM!!!

A thunderous explosion drowned out his voice.

The rumbling was already underway.

Allen stumbled as the world tilted.

No—not the world.

It was the hillside beneath their feet that was collapsing!

The ice layer beneath the Earth Spike Fortress hadn't been dug into by the monsters. No—they had dug under the very foundation of the entire hill.

A massive fissure cracked open in the ground, spreading from in front of the tree and along the edge of the spiked fortress.

Allen locked eyes with Paul and Roalds across the crevice. Panic flashed in their eyes. They stood at the outer edge of the fortress—now separated from Allen's group by the crack.

Allen's eyes widened. He crouched, ready to leap—but then his feet found only air.

His hair whipped upward. The entire ridge gave way beneath him.

"Ahhh!!!"

Rudy and Sylphy screamed in panic as they fell.

Paul and Roalds rushed to the edge of the chasm, shouting in unison as the ground caved into the valley below.

"Allen!!"

The shout was like a spark.

Adrenaline surged through Allen. Clutching the two children tightly—Rudy still screaming, Sylphy biting her lip in terror—he leapt.

It's fine! Less than twenty meters—I can jump this!

As his body arced through the air, his feet nearly brushing the ground, he saw them.

A dense tide of monsters, coiled around the split ridge.

They leapt up at the same time he did, their movements whipping the air into a cloudy blur.

Allen's view was instantly obscured. The monsters were coming straight for him.

He instinctively went to draw his blade—

But his hands were full.

He couldn't hold his sword!

The wind fell silent.

Allen's pupils contracted. With "sensory flow" fully deployed, he roared internally—

"Come out—Dragon Saint Battle Aura! Focus it on my back!"

A warmth surged in his abdomen. The embryonic Dragon Saint Battle Aura core, the size of a walnut, compressed down to a seed.

Its engraved magic patterns almost disappeared—

Then burst outward!

The aura surged, dragon-born and explosive, wrapping around Allen's entire body.