Unlike the others who fought with visible emotion ,rage, determination, righteous fury—Shadow fought with cold, calculated precision that was almost mechanical in its efficiency. Each kill was economical, perfect, wasting no movement or energy. No flourishes, no excess strikes, just death delivered with surgical accuracy born from years of assassination training.

But even fighting together with practiced coordination, Satou's party was vastly outnumbered. For every enemy they killed, there seemed to be two more emerging from the fortress or materializing from hidden positions throughout the courtyard.

Satou didn't care about the numbers. Didn't care about tactics or strategy or the smart approach.

His rage had fully taken hold now, burning away rational thought and leaving only the primal need to destroy these enemies. Everyone who'd served Merc Assault, everyone who'd enabled the torture, everyone who stood between him and the assassin who'd tried to break him—they would all die screaming.

[Berserk Aura] activated unconsciously, responding to his emotional state rather than conscious command. Dark red energy mixed with the black of his nightmare powers, creating a corona around his body that pulsed with barely contained violence. His physical capabilities surged beyond their already superhuman levels—strength increasing until he could cleave through armored enemies like they were made of paper, speed rising until his movements became nearly impossible to track.

Pain became distant, irrelevant. Fatigue was a concept that no longer applied to his transformed state. His body moved on pure instinct and rage, guided by [Nightmare Sight] and enhanced by every skill he'd accumulated.

He waded through Merc Assault's forces like a demon lord of old given physical form, his blade reaping lives with every swing. [Void Fang] ensured that every kill was clean and absolute, existence-erasing preventing any chance of resurrection or reanimation from whatever dark magic these cultists might possess. [Devour] activated on each corpse automatically, pulling their essence into him even as he moved to the next target without pause.

<System Notification - Combat Log Continuing> [Nightmare Manipulation] (Enhanced) acquired

[Shadow Servant Creation] acquired

[Terror Aura] (Enhanced) acquired

[Dream Walking] (Enhanced to Intermediate) acquired

[Mental Invasion] (Enhanced to Intermediate) acquired

[Fear Consumption] acquired

[Nightmare Constructs] (Enhanced to Intermediate) acquired

[Psychic Assault - Basic] acquired

[Illusion Crafting - Basic] acquired

[Memory Manipulation - Weak] acquired

The notifications were piling up in his combat log, but Satou ignored them all. There would be time to review his gains after every single one of these bastards was dead. Right now, there was only killing.

A dozen figures tried to form a coordinated defense, creating a wall of nightmare-barriers and shadow-shields layered three deep. It was actually impressive magical work, the kind of defensive formation that should have stopped most attackers cold.

Satou didn't slow down. [Absolute Severance] activated, and his blade cut through their defenses like they were made of spider silk rather than hardened nightmare-magic. Bodies fell in a spray of dark blood that [Void Fang] immediately consumed, leaving no trace.

More figures tried to escape, recognizing that standing and fighting was suicide against this demonic force. They ran toward the fortress entrance, hoping to reach the safety of the interior where they could regroup and mount a proper defense.

Satou wouldn't allow it. [Shadow Step] activated repeatedly, appearing in their path and cutting them down before they could reach the massive gates. No mercy. No quarter. No escape.

His aura was swelling to monstrous proportions now, the accumulated power from dozens of absorbed essences making reality warp around him in visible ways. The ground cracked beneath his feet with each step, spider-web patterns radiating outward. The air itself seemed to scream when his blade passed through it, reality protesting the existence-erasing energy.

Some of the robed figures broke completely, their courage shattering in the face of this demonic slaughter. They threw down their weapons and tried to flee in random directions, all pretense of organization abandoned in favor of desperate self-preservation.

It didn't save them. Satou hunted them down with mechanical efficiency, his [Nightmare Sight] letting him track their desperate flight even through the shadows and smoke. He cut them down without hesitation or mercy, his blade rising and falling in a rhythm of death.

Kelvin had to jump out of the way as Satou passed through his combat area like a tornado of death, leaving nothing but corpses and dispersing essence in his wake. "Brother, slow down! You're going to burn yourself out fighting like this!"

But Satou either didn't hear or didn't care. The rage had fully consumed him now, and there was only one thought burning in his mind with absolute clarity:

Merc Assault dies today.

He reached the fortress entrance—a massive gate carved with disturbing imagery of torture and nightmares rendered in excruciating detail. It was closed, barred from the inside with what felt like multiple layers of reinforcement, enhanced with dark magic that pulsed with malevolent energy meant to repel attackers.

Satou didn't slow down or look for a key or try to pick the lock.

He simply punched the gate with his fist wrapped in concentrated [Void Fang] energy.

The gate exploded inward, existence-erasing power consuming the enchanted metal and stone and leaving a gaping hole large enough to drive the carriage through. The shockwave from the impact shattered windows throughout the fortress and knocked several robed figures off their feet.

Satou stepped through the smoke and debris without breaking stride, his eyes already fixed on the interior as [Nightmare Sight] began mapping out the fortress layout.

The fortress interior was a labyrinth of corridors and chambers, all of them designed specifically to confuse and disorient intruders. Doors that led nowhere, opening into solid walls. Staircases that looped back on themselves in impossible geometries. Walls that moved when you weren't looking directly at them. Floors that tilted at angles that made walking difficult. Ceilings that dripped with substances that corroded metal and stone.

It didn't matter to Satou. [Nightmare Sight] let him see through the illusions to the underlying reality, and more importantly, he could sense intent. He could feel Merc Assault's presence deeper in the fortress like a cancer burning at the heart of this structure, a malevolent consciousness that pulsed with dark power.

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