Blackie, realizing his 'toy' was finally empty, kept squeezing the trigger anyway, as if sheer stubbornness might coax a few more bullets out of it. The result was nothing but a rapid series of dry clicks echoing through the jungle. His face twisted with fury, and with an irritated snarl he hurled the useless submachine gun aside. Only then did it occur to him to actually charge the spot where his target had been moments ago.

By that point, however, it was far too late. Through his Soul Sense, Ethan had already watched the mutant Noah scramble to his feet and flee in blind panic, sprinting back toward his own lines without once looking back. By the time Blackie finished his pointless burst of empty fire and finally started moving, Noah was long gone, swallowed up by the chaos behind him.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and facepalmed for what felt like the hundredth time today. He sent a sharp mental command, a telepathic whisper that hit Blackie's mind like a shout.

"What the hell are you playing at? Kill him or move on. We've got shit to do back home."

The voice echoed inside Blackie's skull. He froze mid-step, then his head snapped around, scanning the battlefield until his gaze locked onto Ethan's distant position. The moment their eyes met, Ethan saw it again, that same raw, almost childlike joy and surprise he had seen earlier in Victor's expression.

"Don't just stand there," Ethan continued, pushing the thought toward him. "This Blackfin guy seems decent enough. Help him out. There's another one over there, probably their leader. Grab him for me. Something about him feels off."

As he issued the command, part of Ethan's attention drifted inward, as it so often did these days. Ever since his resurrection, his Soul Power had not merely recovered but surged to an entirely new level. The Convergence Sigil spinning steadily within his Mindscape now produced a fine, mist-like energy that drifted downward like spiritual dew, seeping into every part of his being.

It felt similar to Soul Power, yet fundamentally different. He could shape and guide it with his will, but where Soul Power demanded deliberate focus, this new energy responded almost instinctively. It moved at the slightest suggestion of thought, smooth and compliant in a way that felt almost intimate.

More astonishing still, this energy was no longer confined to his spirit alone. It flowed through his physical body as well, saturating flesh and bone alike. His Quintessence Bone was slowly absorbing it, taking tiny, careful sips, as if savoring a rare vintage rather than daring to gulp it down. The contrast to before was stark. Back when his body had been a flawed Vessel, the bone had devoured energy greedily, compensating for his constant leakage.

Now, there was no leakage at all. The energy stayed where it belonged, soaking into everything. The Quintessence Bone, the Tree of Life within him, even the seeds nestled at the tree's roots were quietly drinking it in. Visible changes accompanied the process. The vibrant, multicolored striations along the bone were fading, smoothing into a polished, jade-like white. The Tree of Life itself had sprouted two new branches, fresh buds swelling along its trunk with quiet promise.

Within his Energy Core, a new structure had taken shape. Where once there had been only a single golden thread cycling through a complex orbit, there were now two. A second thread, violet in color, rotated in the exact opposite direction. It was not a Convergence Sigil, but rather something like a miniature celestial orrery, two counter-rotating bands locked in silent balance. Ethan did not yet understand its purpose, and his core still leaked conventional energy like a sieve.

Yet the nameless gas-like energy filling him did not rely on the core at all. His entire body had become a perfect container for it. It could fuel his physical techniques as raw energy or empower his spiritual abilities as Soul Power, and it bypassed his flawed core entirely. His flesh and blood themselves were now the reservoir.

Back on the battlefield, Ethan's command erased Blackie's last trace of hesitation. The massive beast practically vibrated with excitement, barely restraining himself from jumping in place.

"Boss! Wait for me! I'll go crush the bastard who blew up my chicken first, then I'll come see you!"

In an instant, Blackie's playful demeanor vanished. Unfortunately, his idea of getting serious had never involved anything resembling restraint. Ethan raised a hand to shield his eyes.

The man who had been playing soldier ceased to exist. In his place, reality itself seemed to strain and buckle.

CRASH. BOOM.

The dense jungle canopy was violently shoved aside as an immense, dark form erupted upward. Trees that had stood for centuries snapped like matchsticks, crashing down in a deafening cascade of splintering wood and torn earth.

"YOU SONS OF BITCHES OVER THERE! YOU BLEW UP MY CHICKEN AND TRIED TO MINEFIELD ME! THIS ISN'T OVER UNTIL I GET A HUNDRED ROAST CHICKENS!"

Ethan stared up at the spectacle, equal parts awe and mortification. A hundred chickens. That was it. That was the hill he was going to die on.

Blackie's true form towered over the jungle, a hundred meters tall at the shoulder, and Ethan knew this was nowhere near his full size. At his peak, the beast could reach nearly a kilometer in height. The sheer presence of him was enough to crush morale outright.

On Blackfin's side, men dropped to their knees or collapsed backward, minds going blank with terror. Blackfin himself stood frozen, jaw slack, thoughts spiraling. This was what he had been speaking with moments ago. The dark, scaled hide, the mane of shadow-like tendrils, the overwhelming aura of primordial authority all screamed the same truth. This was no mutant beast. This was a creature of legend, a Black Qilin, sovereign of its kind. His legs trembled with an instinct older than reason, urging him to prostrate himself.

Across the field, the Apex Predators descended into chaos. A fresh wave of panic sent mercenaries scrambling in every direction. Most of them were non-native, their terror loud and unfiltered. Those of native descent reacted differently, much like Blackfin himself. Their faces drained of color, bodies trembling with a deep-rooted, cultural dread. They knew exactly what they were looking at.

"Demon! It's a demon!" someone screamed. "Run! It's a hellhound! What have we awakened?" "God save us, this is a nightmare!" "Is that Satan himself?"

Prayers and curses blended together as the foreign mercs fled in blind terror.

"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTHS AND GET ON THE GROUND!" Blackie's voice boomed, a thunderclap that shook leaves loose from the canopy.

He opened his maw, not to bite, but to exhale. A torrent of wind burst forth, denser than air, slamming into the battlefield like a solid wall. It was not merely wind but a localized hurricane. The ground beneath it was scoured clean, gouged deep as though plowed by invisible titans.

The Apex Predators' line vanished into the storm. Men were ripped from their feet and flung like leaves. Those who managed to cling to tree trunks did so in desperation, but it made little difference. The wind stole the breath from their lungs, crushing screams into silent gasps.

Just as it seemed the storm front would pass, it did something impossible. It curved back on itself, gathering speed and mass, spinning into a towering, focused vortex. A tornado, deliberate and controlled.

Three to four thousand men were torn from the earth in an instant. They spun helplessly in the air, a grotesque cyclone of flailing bodies, before being hurled en masse toward Blackie.

Thump. Crunch. Whump.

They landed in a groaning, tangled heap, forming a small mountain of dazed, broken, and utterly terrified mercenaries at the colossal beast's feet.

"WHO. BLEW UP. MY. CHICKEN?" Blackie roared, each word shaking the ground. His twin eyes, each the size of a truck cabin, blazed with blue light, his fury laser-focused on the avian injustice.

From the human pile rose a collective stench, sharp and acrid, the unmistakable smell of terror as bowels and bladders gave out in unison.

Blackie snorted and took two earth-shaking steps backward in disgust, flattening more ancient trees beneath his retreat.

"Goddammit, you overgrown lizard. It's about a fucking chicken? That's it. I'm done."

Ethan had reached his limit. This farce could not continue. Plates slid into place across his Combat Mech with sharp clicks and a low hum as systems came fully online. He shot into the air in a streak of polished metal and contained power, heading straight toward the epicenter of the chaos.

Victor let out a long-suffering sigh, the sound of a man resigned to cleaning up after his friends, and activated his own boosters to follow.

From somewhere behind them, Amber's delighted laughter rang out. "Aww, Blackie is so cute when he's angry."

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