At Albert's command, everything changed.
There was no chaos.
No unnecessary shouting.
There was discipline.
Weapons rose in unison, coated in flickers of mana that vibrated through the air like a silent warning. The knights spread out with precision, forming a perimeter without closing in too far.
Because they all knew.
One mistake…
and the stinger would decide who didn't make it back.
The creature emerged fully from the swamp.
Not fast.
Heavy.
Inevitable.
The scorpion was the size of a carriage—but that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was how it moved.
Too fluid for something that large.
Too quiet for something that lethal.
Its black carapace didn't reflect light.
It absorbed it.
And when its tail rose—
the air itself seemed to tighten.
The shriek it released wasn't just sound.
It was pressure.
A low, crushing resonance that pressed into their chests and reminded everyone, without words, that this was not something to underestimate.
Albert didn't hesitate.
"Containment formation! Don't let the venom dictate the pace!"
His voice wasn't urgent.
It was absolute.
The knights moved.
Two flanks.
A forward anchor.
Distance measured.
They weren't fighting to kill immediately.
They were fighting not to die first.
Lusian watched.
From the rear.
Still atop Thunder.
Not out of hesitation.
By choice.
The beast's silver mane crackled with living electricity. Small arcs of lightning crawled across its body, as if the air itself struggled to contain its power.
It wasn't just a mount.
It was a weapon.
A contained storm.
And Lusian…
was the only one who could stand at its center without being torn apart.
His bond with Sofía wasn't a simple spell.
It was synchronization.
Recognition.
To Thunder's mana, Lusian wasn't a rider.
He was part of it.
Albert struck first.
Fire.
Direct.
Precise.
A clean impact.
And then—
the response.
The scorpion's body darkened, coated in a dense layer as if shadow itself had solidified over its shell.
Active defense.
Lusian narrowed his eyes.
He recognized it instantly.
Not by instinct.
By memory.
Class B. Darkness. Reactive defense triggered by elemental impact.
Now comes—
The tail moved.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
It wasn't an attack.
It was a chained execution.
"Back!" one of the knights roared.
The shockwave hit them before they could fully react.
The ground trembled.
The air compressed.
A Lord-Gamma was thrown several meters back.
Another barely managed to raise his weapon in time.
Lusian didn't move.
He smiled.
Slightly.
"Your turn, Thunder."
The response was immediate.
A neigh that didn't sound—it detonated.
Thunder surged forward like a released bolt.
The ground cracked beneath its hooves.
The air split apart.
The lightning didn't surround it.
It followed it.
As if the world itself couldn't remain intact in its wake.
The scorpion reacted.
Too late.
Lusian leaned slightly.
"Now."
Thunder slipped—
beneath the tail.
Exactly.
Where it needed to be.
Not before.
Not after.
The lightning struck.
Not from the sky.
From him.
It hit the scorpion's abdomen directly.
The discharge wasn't just force.
It was intrusion.
The creature's body locked violently.
Its legs dug into the ground.
Movement stopped.
Paralysis.
"Now!" Albert ordered.
This time, the group didn't hesitate.
The knights advanced.
Coordinated.
No wasted motion.
Mana-charged blades found the weakened points.
A clean cut.
The first pincer fell.
The scorpion shrieked.
This time, there was rage.
The stinger dropped—
but never completed the motion.
Thunder was already there again.
Another discharge.
More brutal.
Deeper.
The creature's nervous system collapsed for an instant.
Enough.
Albert moved in.
Not like a mage.
Like an executioner.
His blade burned.
Not surface fire.
Compressed.
Condensed.
A single motion.
Upward.
Precise.
The stinger separated from the body.
The fight ended in that moment.
The rest…
was confirmation.
The knights closed in.
Coordinated strikes.
No rush.
No mistakes.
Until the scorpion fell.
Heavy.
Final.
Silence.
Not relief.
Respect.
Smoke rose slowly from the corpse.
The smell… was different.
Dense.
Metallic.
Heavy with mana.
Albert exhaled.
"Shadow Scorpion. Class B. Five hundred points."
One of the knights activated the device.
The body vanished.
But the sensation…
didn't.
Lusian didn't move.
He stared at where it had been.
He could feel it.
Residual mana.
Floating.
Dispersed.
Waiting to be claimed.
This is power.
Not theory.
Not promise.
Real.
Consumable.
Thunder exhaled softly.
Lusian rested a hand against its neck.
"Good work."
Sparks danced across his fingers.
They didn't burn.
They responded.
Albert approached.
"Impeccable execution, young master. Without your intervention—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Lusian nodded.
But he wasn't listening.
He was watching the swamp.
Class B… too close to the edge.
His expression didn't change.
But his mind did.
This isn't random.
The forest wasn't chaotic.
It was… consistent.
And if something was out of place—
it meant one thing.
Something had already begun to change.