"Ha ha ha! How interesting, you little rats?" Beleth laughed, his voice filled with pleasure as he watched his enemies' desperation. "To see your own comrades turn back to tear you apart, that feeling must be truly wonderful, truly unforgettable!"

Keln-Undead, with bloodshot eyes and a gruesome, twisted smile on his pale, soulless face, lunged straight at Henry, who was standing closest. The twin swords in his hands, weapons once used to protect justice, now swung in familiar but cruel arcs, aimed directly at his former comrade. Henry gritted his teeth, the pain of loss and intense fury choking him. He had no other choice.

"Keln, I'm sorry…" he whispered, his hoarse voice almost inaudible as he raised his sword to face his former comrade. Henry's sword strikes were still accurate, fast, and forceful, but every time their weapons clashed, a sharp, aching pain filled him, making it hard to breathe.

After a series of fierce parries, Henry finally found a small opening in Keln-Undead's movements. The sword in his hand drew a perfect, lightning-fast arc, severing the head of his former comrade.

Keln-Undead's soulless body froze in mid-air, then fell, finding true peace and a release from Beleth's control. Henry stood there, panting, his sword still dripping with blood. The pain of losing Keln and having to end his comrade's life personally burned his soul.

He remembered how Captain Jacobs felt when he had to kill his own brothers in Unit 18. Now, he truly understood a part of the pain, the torment, and the helplessness that his respected captain had gone through.

He deliberately threw open the doors of his mind, letting his Mystic Sense merge with his consciousness. Immediately, a headache, as if thousands of needles were stabbing his brain, overwhelmed him.

Blood began to seep from his eyes, nose, and ears. But through the pain, his Mystic Sense stronger. He could not only feel the energy, but see it too. He saw the threads of dark energy connecting the skull-adorned Death Knight to the other Undead, and he saw the glowing weak points in their armor. This power was dreadful, but the price was also steep.

He yelled, his voice hoarse but commanding, supporting his remaining comrades who were struggling to hold on: "Danz, Halb, focus on destroying the skull-adorned Death Knight! He controls the low-level Undead!"

Though wounded and exhausted, Danz and Halb quickly worked together, launching a barrage of attacks on the Death Knight with the skull pattern on his armor. With Henry's precise guidance on his weak points and openings, they quickly found and destroyed the Undead control sigil on his armor, causing the low-level Undead surrounding them to become chaotic and disoriented, no longer under unified command.

But Beleth wouldn't so easily let his prey have a chance to turn the tide. Wearing an evil smile, a complex, baleful dark magic circle, far more sinister than anything he'd used before, appeared beneath his feet, radiating a wave of evil energy.

"Soul Shred" he hissed. From inside the magic circle, countless ethereal specters flew out, carrying the wails of imprisoned souls, heading straight for the investigators. They didn't attack the body but aimed directly for the soul, for the weakest points in the mind, causing extreme pain and uncontrollable panic.

Danz and Halb clutched their heads, screaming. Their bodies convulsed, then collapsed to the ground like puppets with cut strings. Illusions and their deepest fears were brought to the surface, tormenting and torturing them mercilessly.

Even Wrack, a Rank 4 warrior who had faced countless dangers, had to brace himself to endure, his strong, rugged face contorted in pain, angry growls escaping his clenched teeth. Henry, thanks to the Sanctuary Seal on his left chest, which emitted a weak but pure warmth that partially protected his soul from the specters, was less affected than the others.

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But he still felt his mind spinning, dizzy, as the painful memories of his adoptive mother, of Captain Jacobs, of Keln and his other fallen comrades, once again rushed back like an unstoppable flood, trying to drown his reason and his remaining will to fight.

He knew that if he didn't do something immediately, if he didn't find a way to escape this mental torture, they would all be destroyed. They would become empty husks, puppets in Beleth's hands.

Wrack, though suffering, managed to look at his remaining comrades writhing on the ground. He saw that Danz and Halb were almost completely incapacitated, barely clinging to life in their pain. As for Henry, he was trying to fight off the illusions and the ghosts of his past that tormented his mind.

He knew this was probably their final limit. There was no hope left. With a final effort, no longer out of anger or fury, but out of a resolve and sacrifice, Wrack charged straight at Beleth, who was hovering in the air. He gripped his battle axe tightly. His body swelled, his muscles bulging under his torn armor, and he channeled all his remaining vitality and aether into a single, suicidal attack, an attack filled with all his hatred and his will to protect his comrades.

"Berserker's Fury". His body radiated a mighty energy, but that same energy was also burning him up.

Wrack swung his battle axe, creating violent tremors on the escape path. Each axe swing not only shattered the skeletons and corpses in his way but also pushed back the Undead wave trying to surround them.

Henry, Halb, and Danz, who were retreating behind him, could feel the immense pressure and the violent fury radiating from Wrack. They believed that with his strength, they would be able to retreat to safety and reunite with the others fighting somewhere in the city.

However, Beleth had already realized their intention. He simply directed his Undead army, forcing them to gather in a dense formation, creating a strong shield of bones to block Wrack's path. This was a simple but effective tactic. No matter how strong Wrack was or how wild his fury, he couldn't break through thousands of skeletons and corpses that were linked together, layer upon layer, like a solid wall.

Wrack tried to use his strength to break through the Undead defense. But when he destroyed one Undead formation, the others quickly created a new defense, pushing back his attack. He couldn't advance while his explosive energy was fading. He could feel the exhaustion eating away at his body, but he knew if he fell here, Henry, Halb, and Danz would also be unable to escape.

Wrack made a quick decision. He gave an order. "Keep retreating! I'll stay here and hold them off!". Wrack charged straight at Beleth, carrying a mighty force that could level a small hill. "If I have to die today," he charged with a proud look, "I'll drag you, you bastard, down to hell with me!"

When the Undead were concentrated at the escape route, the number of Undead defending against Beleth had decreased. The Undead army was taken by surprise and became disorganized. Wrack smashed and crushed the Undead that tried to block his way. He charged through the chaotic Undead. Wrack was fighting not to live, but to buy time for his comrades to retreat.

Henry, Halb, and Danz witnessed the tragic scene, and they knew they had to keep running, they had to live. To not let his sacrifice be in vain. But Beleth appeared. All the Undead around him moved aside so Wrack could face him. Wrack swung his battle axe, filled with his last ounce of aether. But he simply blocked it with his bare hands.

Wrack's strength was completely overwhelmed by this difference in power. A wave of dark magic and a chilling aura of death radiated from him, enveloping Wrack. His heavy iron armor was torn apart like paper.

He chopped off Wrack's arm holding the axe, and threw it away like a piece of garbage. Beleth held Wrack floating in the air, and he used some kind of magic to probe him, as if searching for something.

Nothing, there was no reaction at all. Beleth clicked his tongue and immediately used a spell to drain Wrack's life force without mercy. He looked down at Wrack's body, like an old toy. "A strong Ranker," Beleth whispered, "But stupid".

And then, Wrack fell. His strong, muscular body was now a soft, soulless corpse, thrown to the ground without a care. A heroic sacrifice, a desperate attempt to escape had truly begun. But would Wrack's sacrifice be enough for Henry and his remaining comrades to find a glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming encirclement of death?

The answer, it seemed, was already clear.

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