"Now!" I roared, my voice cutting through the din, amplified by a sliver of mana.

I burst from the shadows of the canyon wall. Beside me, Marcus was a silent, coiled spring, his C+ aura suppressed but ready. On my other side, the twins, Riker and Kael, fanned out, their daggers gleaming.

We weren't charging a pack; we were executing a pincer movement on a leaderless mob.

The twelve Ogres were a mess. Some roared in confusion, turning in circles. Others mindlessly smashed their clubs against the ground. A few started to charge after their blinded, rampaging leader. They had no cohesion, no strategy. They were just twelve sacks of D-Rank muscle and fury.

"Twins, go! Knees and ankles! Don't get greedy!" I commanded.

"On it, boss!" Riker yelled, his earlier nervousness replaced by a manic grin. He and Kael vanished, their rogue-class agility allowing them to weave between the massive, stumbling legs of the pack. They moved like whispers, their daggers flashing as they darted in, sliced at tendons, and rolled away before the Ogres could even process the attack.

"Marcus, right flank! Sever the arms! Don't let them swing!"

Marcus didn't reply. He simply *moved*. The man was a different breed. His C+ rank felt like a lie. He flowed between the Ogres, not with the frantic energy of the twins, but with the fluid, effortless grace of a master cultivator. His blade was a silver blur, each strike precise, economical, and utterly devastating. An Ogre swung its club; Marcus was already inside its guard, his sword tracing a perfect arc, severing the creature's arm at the shoulder. He didn't just cut; he *disassembled* them, his reincarnated martial arts knowledge on full display.

*'His control is… flawless. He's not even using his full strength,'* I noted, my mind racing. *'He's just using superior technique.'*

That left the center for me.

An Ogre, dumber than the rest, finally spotted me. It bellowed, raising its massive, nail-studded club to pulp me into the canyon floor.

I met its charge, but not with force. "Ice Domain."

The silver-blue field of my Aura Dominion snapped into existence, but I didn't activate the stat-boosting [Aura Dominion]—too much mana. Instead, I channeled my affinity *through* the field's area. The ground flash-froze.

The charging Ogre hit the slick ice, its massive feet sliding out from under it. It went down in a chaotic, flailing heap, its club flying from its grasp. It was the exact same principle I'd used on the Minotaur, scaled-down.

I didn't waste the opening. Lightning and Ice fused along Draken's blade. I used [Swift Step], skating across the ice, and brought the sword down in a clean, vertical [Heaven Splitter]. The blade, empowered by my affinities and the momentum, sliced through the Ogre's thick skull.

It twitched once, then went still.

*One down.*

"Sila! Left flank, suppress!" I yelled upwards.

*TWANG!*

From the ridge above, Sila's arrows began to rain down. She wasn't aiming for kills, but for control, just as I'd ordered. An arrow thudded into an Ogre's thigh, another pierced an ankle, a third buried itself in a shoulder. Her C-Rank archery was precise, pinning the beasts, slowing them, and breaking any attempt they made to group up.

The battlefield became a beautifully orchestrated butcher's block.

The twins were a whirlwind, crippling the Ogres' mobility.

Sila was the eye in the sky, locking them in place.

Marcus was the executioner, a graceful dance of death, severing limbs and ending threats.

And I was the controller, using ice to manage the terrain and [Judgment Chain] when two or three Ogres got too close, the crackling lightning arcing between them, stunning them just long enough for Marcus or the twins to move in.

The four veterans, who had entered this pass fearing for their lives, were now part of a machine. The rogues, Riker and Kael, were fighting with a confidence I'd never seen, laughing as they dodged clumsy swings. Sila, on the ridge, was firing with a calm, deadly rhythm.

In the midst of this, a distant, earth-shaking *CRASH* echoed from further down the pass.

I risked a glance. Garth. He was still alive, thank the spirits. The blinded C-Rank Chieftain was in a full-blown tantrum, swinging its massive club in wild, undirected arcs, pulverizing the canyon walls, bringing down small rockslides. Garth was nowhere to be seen, likely hidden behind a boulder, catching his breath. He was doing his job.

"Focus!" I roared, turning back to our own fight. "Last three! Finish them!"

The remaining Ogres, crippled and surrounded, stood no chance. Marcus took one, the twins took another, and I finished the last one with a lightning-infused thrust through its eye.

Silence.

The clearing was a mess of Ogre blood, dissipating corpses, and scorched, icy stone.

Riker and Kael stood panting, their daggers dripping, their faces pale but utterly exhilarated.

"By the gods," Riker breathed, staring at the carnage. "We… we just took down twelve D-Ranks. In... what? Five minutes?"

Sila climbed down from the ridge, her quiver noticeably lighter, her eyes fixed on me. The open skepticism from the guild hall was gone, replaced by a stunned, profound respect.

"The plan worked," she stated, her voice quiet.

"It's not over," I said, pointing Draken down the pass, where the roaring and smashing continued. The main event was still waiting.

I turned to Marcus, my own breathing heavy from the mana expenditure. "Your movements. They're... efficient."

Marcus wiped his blade clean on a dead Ogre's fur, his calm expression unreadable. "My master taught me not to waste energy. You command well, little brother. Your analysis of their weakness was perfect."

The subtle praise, coming from him, felt more significant than the entire victory.

"Garth!" I yelled, my voice echoing down the canyon. "Status!"

A moment later, a shaky voice yelled back from behind a massive rockfall. "Alive! Barely! This thing is *pissed*, kid! What's the word?!"

I looked at my team. They were tired, panting, but their eyes were on me. No fear. No doubt. Just readiness.

"Word is, we're finishing the job," I called back. "Garth! On my signal, draw it back to this clearing! Lead it straight to us!"

"Are you insane?!" he yelled back. "It's blind, but it'll kill us all!"

"It's blind, wounded, and tired," I countered. "And we are six. Sila, back on the ridge! Aim for its legs! Twins, you know the drill—hamstring it! Garth, when it enters the clearing, you join Marcus and me. We're the wall. We stop it, we surround it, we end it."

I looked at my brother, a grim smile on my face. "Ready for a C-Rank, Marcus?"

His own smile was thin, sharp, and terrifyingly confident. "He's just bigger, Michael. He'll fall just the same."

"Alright, Garth!" I roared, raising Draken. "Bring us our trophy!"

From down the pass, there was a beat of silence, then a bellowing, defiant war cry. "FOR THE GUILD! RAAAAH!"

The thundering footsteps began again, heavier this time, shaking the ground. But this time, they were coming *towards* us.

The blind, enraged C-Rank Chieftain, drawn by Garth's taunts, was charging straight into our trap.

_____

The distant, agonizing roar of the Ogre Chieftain echoed off the canyon walls, a sound of pure, blinded fury. It was followed by a resounding CRASH as, presumably, Garth's shield met the Chieftain's tree-trunk club. The ground beneath our feet trembled faintly.

"He's still alive," Kael muttered, his knuckles white on his dagger hilt.

"For now," I replied, my gaze locked on the clearing ahead.

The twelve pack-ogres had frozen, their primitive brains caught in a debilitating loop: their leader was in agony behind them, but four new, immediate threats had just appeared in front of them.

Their small, brutish eyes swiveled between the sound of their wounded alpha and the sight of us.

This was the window.

The single, perfect moment of indecision I had based the entire plan on. In a real battle, hesitation is death. And these creatures were hesitating.

"Marcus," I ordered, my voice cutting through the tense air, "take the right flank. Riker, Kael, left. Go for the tendons, the joints. Cripple them. I'll take the center. Now."

There was no "Are you sure?" No questioning the kid in the Academy uniform. The time for that was over. The flawless execution of Sila's blinding shot had bought my authority.

My team exploded into motion.

Marcus was a revelation. He didn't just run; he flowed. His C+ aura, which I now recognized as the refined 'Qi' of a cultivator, was internalized, not wasted on a flashy external glow.

He moved with a frightening, economical grace. His blade, a simple guild-issue longsword, became an extension of his will.

The first Ogre on the right, a massive D+ brute, finally processed the threat and swung its gnarled club. Marcus didn't meet the blow. He slid under the clumsy arc, his body moving with an unnatural fluidity, and his sword drew a single, clean line across the back of the Ogre's knee.

SHLING!

It was a sound like silk tearing. Blood erupted. The Ogre's leg buckled instantly, its roar of rage turning into a high-pitched squeal as its own weight tore its hamstring apart. It collapsed, and before it even hit the ground, Marcus's blade was already at its throat, severing the spinal cord with a surgeon's precision.

My eyes widened slightly, even as I processed my own attack. 'That… that wasn't Hunter swordsmanship. That was an assassination art. Efficient, precise, zero wasted energy. He's not just a reincarnator; he's a master.'

Simultaneously, on the left, the twins proved their worth. Riker and Kael moved as one, a blur of dark leather and glinting steel.

They didn't engage head-on. They darted between two Ogres, their daggers flashing. One Ogre swung wildly at where Kael had been, only to be hamstrung by Riker from behind. As it fell, Kael was already there, leaping onto its back and driving both his daggers deep into the base of its skull.

They moved with a terrifying, silent synchronization that spoke of a lifetime spent fighting back-to-back.

Three down in less than five seconds. The pack's confusion turned to disorganized fury.

"My turn," I whispered.

Three Ogres in the center, their small eyes burning with rage, finally turned their full attention to me. They charged, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground, clubs raised.

This was exactly what I wanted.

"Judgment Chain!"

I didn't need to move. I thrust my palm forward, my mana core igniting. The 50,000 SP skill, designed for this exact purpose, flared to life.

Blue-white lightning exploded from my hand, not as a single bolt, but as a serpentine arc of pure energy.

It struck the lead Ogre in the chest, engulfing it in a crackling shroud. Before the other two could react, the lightning leaped, chaining instantly to the second Ogre, then the third, connecting all three in a web of sizzling, agonizing power.

"GRRRAAAH?!"

They roared, their bodies convulsing, muscles locking in a 1-second paralysis as the Purple-rank skill did its work.

They were frozen, immobilized, completely vulnerable.

"Riker! Kael! Center!" I commanded.

The twins, fresh off their first kill, responded instantly. They saw the opening and took it, flowing past me, their daggers becoming a blur as they eviscerated the three paralyzed Ogres before they could even fall.

Six down. The entire engagement had taken less than thirty seconds.

The remaining six Ogres finally broke. Their low-level intelligence could only process one thing: their pack-mates were being slaughtered by silent shadows and a child who wielded lightning.

The distant, pain-filled roars of their blinded Chieftain were no longer a call to arms; they were a beacon of terror.

They turned to flee.

"No, you don't," I snarled. My objective was a clean victory. No survivors to report back, no stragglers to ambush us later.

"Sila! Pin them!"

TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!

From her perch on the ridge, Sila's response was immediate and deadly. Her skill as an archer was truly high-class. Arrows, imbued with Earth mana, whistled through the air.

They didn't aim for kills. They struck calves, ankles, and knees with pinpoint accuracy. The fleeing Ogres stumbled, roaring as their legs were pinned to the earth by the magical arrows.

"Marcus, the right!" I shouted, already moving left. "Twins, with me! Finish them!"

What followed was a massacre. The immobilized Ogres were helpless.

Marcus moved with his lethal, cultivator's grace, his blade a silver blur, ending his targets with a single, clean strike each.

The twins and I were less elegant but no less effective, a whirlwind of steel, ice, and lightning, finishing the last of the pack.

The clearing fell silent, the only sound our own heavy breathing and the distant, fading thud... crash... of Garth's desperate kiting.

We regrouped in the center of the clearing, a small island of living beings in a sea of fresh gore and dissolving Ogre corpses. The stench of blood and ozone was overwhelming.

Riker and Kael, the rogue twins, were panting, their faces pale but their eyes blazing with a wild, almost feral adrenaline.

They looked from the twelve dead Ogres to me, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. We… we just did that? We took down twelve D-ranks in under three minutes, with zero injuries?

Sila rappelled down from the ridge, her bow in hand, her usually stoic face flushed with exertion. She looked at me, then at the carnage, and then back at me. She simply nodded, a deep, newfound respect in her eyes.

My commands had been perfect, her role vital. She had acted as the hand of god, and it had worked.

My father, Darius, had picked these hunters well. They were professionals. Faced with a plan that made sense, they executed it, even if it came from a fifteen-year-old.

Then there was Marcus.

He stood calmly wiping his blade on a patch of grass, his breathing perfectly even, not a spot of blood on his clothes .

He looked as if he'd just finished a light warm-up. He sheathed his sword and then turned to me, his gaze no longer just curious, but sharp, calculating, and deeply, deeply unnerved.

He had seen it all.

He'd seen me use [Judgment Chain], a high-tier Lightning spell. He'd seen me command the battlefield with the instantaneous authority of a veteran commander.

And though I hadn't needed to use it, he'd likely sensed the dormant power of [Aura Dominion] and my unreleased affinities coiled beneath my skin.

"That," Marcus said, his voice quiet, "was not 'light aura training,' Michael."

"It got the job done," I replied evenly, turning away from his piercing gaze to look down the pass where Garth had disappeared.

"That... was a C-Rank Area-of-Effect Lightning Art," Marcus pressed, his voice tight. "And your commands... you knew exactly how they would react. Before they even moved."

"I told you," I said, my voice cold, slipping into the persona of the 'Chief Inspector.' "I'm confident in their weakness. I analyzed the variables."

"That wasn't analysis, Michael," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "That was foreknowledge."

My blood chilled.

His reincarnated cultivator's mind was too sharp. He was connecting dots that shouldn't even be on the same page.

BOOM!

A massive explosion from deeper in the pass saved me from answering. A shockwave tore back through the canyon, and we heard Garth let out a desperate, pain-filled shout.

"He's in trouble," Sila stated, nocking an arrow. "The Chieftain must have cornered him."

The team's adrenaline, which had begun to fade, spiked anew. They turned to me, their new, untested leader, their eyes waiting.

I didn't hesitate. The time for secrets was over; the time for command was now.

"He did his job," I declared, my voice ringing with an authority that left no room for doubt. "He bought us time. We used that time to eliminate the pack. Now, we finish the mission."

I pointed Draken down the blood-soaked pass, the dark blade humming faintly.

"Garth kited the head of the snake. Now, we go and cut it off." I met the eyes of each veteran, one by one, and a cold, feral grin—one that felt more like Samar the gamer than Michael the student—spread across my face.

"Phase two begins. On me."

(To be continued in Chapter 169)

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