The claws continued through the space where the shield had existed and erased the soldier’s head from reality.

The body stood for a moment, headless, blood fountaining from a neck that ended in impossibly smooth flatness where existence had been deleted.

Then it fell.

Satou continued the slaughter, his Void Fang claws erasing armor, weapons, flesh, bone. Each strike removed pieces of reality, leaving absence in its wake.

Fifty soldiers left.

Forty.

Thirty.

A group of twenty soldiers, the last survivors in this sector, huddled together in desperate defensive circle. They’d watched three hundred of their comrades die in less than ten minutes. Had seen magic and abilities that shouldn’t exist. Had witnessed one dragoblin tear through an entire army detachment like it was nothing.

Their faces showed men who’d accepted death but were too proud or too terrified to run.

Satou respected that, in a distant way.

He killed them quickly.

[PSYCHIC ANNIHILATION ]

Instead of physical violence, he unleashed a purely mental attack—a psychic assault that hit all twenty soldiers simultaneously, bypassing armor and blessed protections to strike directly at their consciousness.

Their minds simply... shattered. Like glass under a hammer. One moment alive and aware, the next moment brain-dead vegetables who’d never think another conscious thought.

They fell together, bodies intact but minds destroyed utterly.

Satou stood alone in the eastern sector, surrounded by three hundred corpses and the nightmare realm still warping reality around him.

He released the Nightmare Lord’s Domain, allowing reality to snap back to normal. Released Fear Incarnate, letting his form return to normal dragoblin features. Released Time Dilation, returning to normal temporal flow.

But he kept Berserk Mode active. Kept the crimson aura blazing. Kept the cold fury burning in his chest.

Eastern sector: cleared.

Through his enhanced hearing, he could hear combat continuing in other sectors. His people still fighting, still dying while he dealt with this one position.

Unacceptable.

[SHADOW ABSOLUTE MOVEMENT]

He teleported across the battlefield, covering half a mile in an instant, appearing at the northern sector where Gruk and his orc warriors were being overwhelmed by five hundred human heavy infantry.

============

[NORTHERN SECTOR]

Gruk’s massive war axe rose and fell with mechanical precision, each strike killing or crippling a human soldier. The orc champion was covered in blood—his own and his enemies’—his body carrying wounds that would have killed lesser warriors.

But he kept fighting, his legendary constitution allowing him to push through pain that would drop normal creatures.

Eight orc warriors fought beside him, down from the twenty-nine who’d started this battle. They formed a defensive wedge, their superior strength allowing them to hold against overwhelming numbers through sheer physical power.

But they were losing ground. Slowly. Inevitably. Five hundred humans against nine orcs, even exceptional orcs, was mathematics that didn’t favor survival.

A blessed hammer caught Gruk in the ribs, the holy magic enhancement making the impact hit like a catapult stone. He felt bones crack, pain shooting through his torso.’

He roared and killed the hammer-wielder with a horizontal axe stroke that split the man from shoulder to opposite hip.

Then Satou appeared.

One moment the orcs were about to be overwhelmed by the next human wave. The next moment their lord stood among them, crimson aura blazing, flame-like eyes tracking threats with predatory focus.

"LORD SATOU!" Gruk’s voice carried joy and relief despite his wounds. "You’ve returned!"

"Fall back with your warriors," Satou commanded, his voice calm despite the berserk power radiating from him. "Defensive positions. I’m clearing this sector."

Gruk wanted to argue—wanted to fight beside his lord like he’d done before. But he saw the bloodlust in Satou’s eyes, saw the cold fury that promised brutal violence to anyone who stood in his path.

And Gruk was smart enough to recognize when retreat was tactical wisdom.

"All orc warriors! FALL BACK! Lord Satou has the front!"

The nine orc warriors pulled back, conducting fighting withdrawal while Satou stepped forward to face five hundred human heavy infantry.

The humans saw him—saw the goblin who’d just appeared, saw the crimson aura that made the air shimmer, saw the blood coating his scales from the eastern sector slaughter.

An officer shouted: "FOCUS FIRE! BLESSED WEAPONS FORWARD! BRING IT DOWN!"

Satou smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.

[COMBAT TRANSCENDENCE]

His mind analyzed the enemy formation with perfect clarity. Five hundred soldiers arranged in ranks. Heavy infantry in front with tower shields and blessed weapons. Archers in back with holy-enchanted arrows. Officers positioned to coordinate the assault.

Tactical assessment: They were expecting a frontal assault. Expecting him to charge directly at their prepared defensive line.

So he’d do something else.

[VOID STEP - MODERATE]

He teleported not forward into their shields, but upward—appearing thirty feet above the human formation, his enhanced balance keeping him stable in mid-air for the split second before gravity reasserted itself.

The humans looked up in confusion, seeing their target suddenly above them instead of in front—

[MAGMA MANIPULATION - MODERATE]

Satou thrust both hands downward and channeled elemental power into the ground beneath the human formation.

The earth beneath five hundred soldiers suddenly turned molten. Stone became lava, solid ground became a pool of superheated liquid rock that began consuming everything it touched.

Soldiers screamed as their boots melted, then their feet, then their legs. Armor turned red-hot, cooking the men inside like meat in an oven. The screaming reached levels that would haunt survivors’ nightmares for years.

Satou landed on a pillar of solid stone he’d created with Earth Manipulation, staying above the lava pool while three hundred soldiers died in shrieking agony below.

The remaining two hundred had pulled back from the magma pit, their formation broken, their tactics in chaos as they watched three-fifths of their force die in molten horror.

Satou jumped from his stone pillar and landed among them.

[ASSASSINATION ARTS]

Three hundred forty-seven unique killing methods resided in his muscle memory, absorbed from Merc Assault’s legendary expertise. He began demonstrating them.

Technique #47: Carotid Severance with Minimum Force His claws flashed out, slicing through one soldier’s neck with surgical precision. The cut was so clean the man’s head remained attached for a full second before toppling off.