Thoren moved forward with slow, measured steps, each stride filled with purpose and unwavering confidence.
The chaos erupting around him failed to disturb his rhythm in the slightest.
Howls, shrieks, and the wet sounds of tearing flesh echoed endlessly through the fog-choked battlefield, yet his expression remained calm, almost detached.
The howls of the Mad Dog Mistveils were ceaseless.
From the moment the first Mad Dog Mistveil had emerged from the fog, the battle had never once paused.
It only escalated.
Their levels had risen steadily as the fighting dragged on.
What began with Level 4 and Level 5 beasts had transformed into something far more terrifying.
Now, hundreds of Level 8 Mad Dog Mistveils swarmed the battlefield, accompanied by dozens of Level 9 elites that towered above the rest like walking nightmares.
The Level 9 Mad Dog Mistveils stood over three meters tall; their massive frames coiled with grotesque muscle.
Their ferocious jaws clamped down on the armored bones of Level 9 Scorpion Skeletons.
Teeth grinding against skeletal plating as if it were brittle cartilage rather than hardened bone.
The battlefield had devolved into pure brutality.
Scorpion Skeletons lashed out with barbed tails, their pincers snapping shut with crushing force, while Mad Dogs leapt fearlessly into the fray, tearing and gnawing with manic aggression.
Bone shattered.
Flesh flew.
Fog churned violently as blood and fragments were hurled through the air.
Apart from the endless horde of Mad Dog Mistveils on the ground, Thoren was also contending with a far more insidious threat above his head.
Hollow Breath Leeches.
They drifted silently through the fog like malignant spirits, their eel-shaped bodies nearly invisible.
Each one was Level 9, and their presence alone was enough to terrify even veteran awakeners.
They did not bite.
They did not strike.
They drained.
Without his second talent, Thoren would have already been reduced to a hollow corpse.
His stamina siphoned away without him ever realizing what was happening.
Even now, the pressure lingered like an invisible hand squeezing his lungs.
At the center of the battlefield, Thoren stood unmoved.
He was like a grand commander overseeing a war, calmly directing its flow while standing amidst destruction.
[Experience Gained]
[Experience Gained]
[Experience Gained]
Notifications flashed repeatedly before his eyes, stacking one after another, but he ignored them completely.
His attention remained locked on the clashes involving the Level 9 Mad Dog Mistveils.
Crash!
A thunderous impact rang out as one of his Level 9 Scorpion Skeletons was torn apart.
A Mad Dog Mistveil lunged forward, its massive jaws clamping down on the skeleton's thorax.
With a violent twist, it ripped the skeleton apart, scattering fragments of bone across the ground.
The Mad Dog gnawed eagerly on the remains, crunching bone as though it were savoring fresh meat.
Watching the horrifying scene, Thoren did not flinch.
Without hesitation, he raised a hand and summoned another Level 9 Scorpion Skeleton.
The massive undead creature appeared from his undead space, immediately filling the gap left behind.
The Mad Dog Mistveils might be endless.
But so was his undead army.
More importantly, every fallen Mad Dog was not truly lost. Each dead Mad Dog was just another minion waiting to be added to his undead army.
As a result, he felt no pressure at all.
Still, as the battle dragged on, he noticed a troubling detail.
His skeletons were beginning to struggle.
They did not feel pain.
They did not tire.
That alone gave them a tremendous advantage in prolonged combat.
Yet, in terms of raw ferocity, strength, and savagery, the Mad Dog Mistveils held the upper hand.
In several zones across the battlefield, the Mad Dogs were slowly pushing forward.
"I can't continue like this…" Thoren muttered quietly.
He narrowed his eyes, observing the flow of combat.
In just a few seconds, a tactic formed in his mind.
Quickly, he extended his consciousness into the Undead Space.
In an instant, multiple human skeletons emerged from beneath the fog.
Warrior Skeletons armed with heavy iron broadswords.
Thoren positioned one warrior skeleton beside each Level 9 Scorpion Skeleton.
Their objective was simple.
Deliver the killing strike.
Howl! Howl!
The battlefield erupted once more as the Mad Dogs lunged forward, but this time, something was different.
The effect was immediate.
With the addition of the Warrior Skeletons, the tide of battle shifted dramatically.
Miserable, distorted screams erupted from the Level 9 Mad Dog Mistveils as heavy broadswords cleaved into their bodies.
In a single strike, deep wounds were carved into their torsos and necks, blackened blood spraying across the fog.
But Thoren did not stop there.
"Press the advantage," he commanded coldly.
The Level 9 Scorpion Skeletons surged forward, fearless and relentless.
Their barbed tails struck like spears, impaling Mad Dogs through the chest, while massive pincers clamped shut with crushing force.
The Mad Dogs proved exactly why they were called mad.
They bit down on the scorpions' pincers with their jagged maws, teeth cracking as they attempted to tear through reinforced bone.
Some even leapt onto the scorpions' backs, clawing and gnawing with suicidal ferocity.
But Thoren did not allow them to succeed.
The Warrior Skeletons delivered killing strikes with ruthless efficiency.
Iron broadswords flashed through the fog, severing heads, splitting skulls, and plunging deep into exposed brains.
One by one, the Level 9 Mad Dog Mistveils fell.
A smirk crept onto Thoren's face as he watched their massive bodies collapse.
[Undead Summoning.]
Without hesitation, he activated his skill.
The fallen Mad Dogs twitched, then rose once more, eyes hollow, movements stiff yet powerful.
Undead Level 9 Mad Dog Mistveils joined his ranks, their bodies exuding deathly fog as they turned on their former kin.
A soft chuckle escaped Thoren's lips.
"Now this is what I'm talking about," he said with satisfaction.
"Kill."
The undead Mad Dogs pounced on the living Mad Dogs with the same savage ferocity, tearing them apart without mercy.
The battlefield became a nightmare of clashing jaws, snapping bones, and ripping flesh.
It was barbaric.
It was brutal.
And Thoren loved it.
Flesh was torn free and flung into the air.
Blood splattered across the fog-drenched ground, staining everything it touched.
Screams echoed, then cut off abruptly.
Yet the grin never left Thoren's face.
With every Mad Dog Mistveil that died, his undead forces grew stronger.
His army swelled while the living Mad Dogs dwindled.
What had once been a brutal, evenly matched battle slowly transformed into a one-sided slaughter.
Just then…
A suffocating pressure descended upon him.
Every hair on Thoren's body stood on end.
'What's happening?'
He froze for half a second, scanning his surroundings.
His instincts screamed danger.
'Am I being targeted again?'
He raised his head, eyes sweeping the battlefield.
Nothing stood out.
Only a few remaining Hollow Breath Leeches lingered overhead, already on the brink of destruction.
Then the fog shifted.
It parted unnaturally.
From within the mist, a massive silhouette emerged.
Feral.
Bloodthirsty.
The beast stepped forward, its presence alone causing the surrounding fog to recoil.
It stood imposingly tall, far larger than the other Mad Dogs.
Its wide canine head was lined with serrated teeth, each one stained dark with blood.
Its tongue rolled lazily from its jaws, dripping crimson as it stared at Thoren with unrestrained savagery.
The fog clung to its fur like a second skin.
Fur and mist merged seamlessly, forming near-perfect natural camouflage.
Had Thoren not held his ground and fought the Mad Dog Mistveils to the very end, he might never have noticed it before it struck.
But now, surrounded by his undead fortress, the beast was forced to reveal itself.
Even so, its mere presence made Thoren swallow hard.
A familiar panel appeared before his eyes.
[Mad Dog Mistveil]
[Level 10 (Mini Boss)]