The heavy dark-iron gate didn’t just open—Argo shattered the rusted locking mechanism with a single, brutal smash of his broadsword.

The metal shrieked, groaning against its hinges before swinging wide to reveal the dark, vaulted cavern beyond.

The stench that hit them made even Alisa’s nose twitch. It was the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood mixed with stale sweat and ancient, moldering stone.

She was hidden in the shadows, observing the Alpha’s next move.

Eurenia stepped through the threshold first, her heavy boots splashing into a shallow puddle of dark water. Her golden eyes flared in the dim light, scanning the massive subterranean chamber.

Along the damp stone walls, dozens of iron cages hung suspended by thick, rusted chains over a deep trench. Inside them were the Crimson Wolf-kin.

Their brilliant red fur was matted with filth, their bodies gaunt and shivering from exhaustion, but the moment the heavy scent of their Alpha flooded the room, several of them forced their heads up.

"Princess Eurenia....." a young warrior rasped from a central cage, his voice cracking. "You... you came."

"Quiet, little one," Eurenia murmured, her deep voice rumbles with an undercurrent of suppressed fury. "The Great Luna Pack leaves no one behind."

"And besides, it’s Alpha now. Alpha Eurenia," she added.

"I wouldn’t celebrate just yet, wild mutts," a wet, grating voice echoed from the far end of the cavern.

At the center of the chamber sat a massive, circular altar carved from a single block of obsidian.

The stone was etched with glowing, deep-purple runes that pulsed like a dying heartbeat, funneling thin streams of blood toward a central basin.

Standing atop the altar was a tall, unnaturally thin Troll priest.

His gray skin was covered in primitive, ritualistic tattoos that writhed across his flesh, and his yellow eyes gleamed with a fanatical, twisted light.

In his webbed hand, he held a jagged ritual dagger, its edge humming with a malicious, initial -enlightened stage Martial Master cultivation aura.

Around the base of the altar stood eight more Troll acolyte warriors, their clubs wrapped in spiked iron wires, their bodies tensed for battle.

Only the priest had the aura of an evolved cultivator.

"You are too late," the Troll priest sneered, raising the dagger toward the ceiling. "The array is already primed. Their blood belongs to the God of Misfortune now. If you take one more step, I will drain every single one of these pups into the basin!"

Argo’s grip tightened on his dark-iron blade, his fangs baring as he prepared to lunge. "Let me rip his throat out, Alpha."

"Stand down, Argo," Eurenia commanded, her voice terrifyingly calm.

She didn’t look at the priest; instead, her eyes shifted slightly to the left, toward the thick columns of shadow flanking the altar.

She knew they weren’t alone in the dark.

The Troll priest cackled, his violet mana flaring as he took a step toward the nearest hanging cage. "Defiant to the end! Die for the glory of...."

He never finished the sentence.

The shadows directly behind him didn’t just lengthen—they rose.

Alisa materialized out of thin air right on top of the obsidian altar, her drow-steel dagger already moving in a fluid, silent arc before the priest could even turn his head.

"What the..."

Clang!

The Troll priest’s instincts saved his life.

At the absolute last millisecond, he whipped his jagged ritual dagger upward, catching Alisa’s descending drow-steel blade in a shower of purple and black sparks.

The impact rattled the obsidian altar, the sheer shockwave of their clashing cultivation bases blowing the thick sulfur smog away from the platform.

"A rat in the dark!" the priest snarled, his yellow eyes bulging as the pressure of his low-level Martial Master dual cores flared to its absolute limit.

The difference between a Martial Warrior and a Martial Master may be a realm, but the distance is vast.

Martial Masters possess double mana cores for a reason; while their first mana core acts as a mana generator, pumping in mana in quantity, the second mana core serves as the augmenter.

Spreading the untainted mana through the bloodstream, strengthening the cultivator’s physique by several folds.

While Martial Warriors could break walls, Martial Masters could destroy buildings.

Purple, toxic miasma erupted from his ritual tattoos, swirling around his boots like a nest of vipers. "You think your cheap shadow tricks can breach a consecrated sanctuary?"

Alisa didn’t answer.

Her expression remained entirely cold, her silver-ringed eyes reflecting the sickly purple glow of his magic.

Instead of pushing against his heavy blade, she tilted her wrist, letting his jagged dagger slide harmlessly off her steel before her body dissolved back into a puddle of fluid shadow right beneath his feet.

She is an Initial-enlightened Martial Warrior.

The priest is of the Martial Master realm, having a major advantage thanks to his experience.

"Soldiers! Guard the altar!" the priest screamed, spinning around violently to slash at the empty air behind him.

"Your guards are already dead," Alpha Eurenia’s deep rumble echoed through the cavern.

Before the eight Troll acolyte warriors could even form a defensive wall around the base of the altar, a crimson blur smashed into their front line.

Eurenia led the charge, her terrifying slender frame moving with a terrifying momentum that completely ignored the heavy gravity runes of the room.

She didn’t even use a blade.

Her massive, sleek noir claws reached out, grabbed the lead acolyte by his throat, and slammed his skull flat into the stone floor with enough force to crack the masonry.

Right behind her, Hedro and Argo were a whirlwind of dark iron.

"Rip them to pieces!" Argo roared, his blade carving a clean, horizontal arc through two acolytes at once, bypassing their spiked iron clubs entirely.

Hedro moved with silent, clinical precision, driving his weapon straight through the leather armor of another Troll’s chest before pivoting to cover his brother’s blind spot.

The elite warriors of the Great Luna Pack swarmed the perimeter, their teeth bared, turning the lower floor into an absolute slaughterhouse.

Up on the altar, the Troll priest was growing desperate.

Every time he channeled his miasma to cast a sweeping ritual curse, a black spike of solid shadow would shoot out from the obsidian blocks, forcing him to break his concentration and leap backward.

This priest was using dark magic, one originated from a divine blessing given to him by the Troll King.

Thwip. Thwip.

Alisa materialized and vanished like a recurring nightmare.

One moment she was slicing at his Achilles heel from the floor, the next she was dropping from the ceiling rafters, her twin daggers executing a relentless, high-speed flurry that slowly peeled the protective mana skin off the priest’s flesh.

"Curse you! Curse all of you!" the priest shrieked, his skin bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts.

He slammed his palm onto the central basin, trying to forcefully ignite the sacrificial array to take the hanging prisoners down with him. "Receive their blood, O Great—"

Slice.

Before the priest could chant in ancient Lydora, a heavy, dark-iron broadsword cut through the air from the side of the altar.

Eurenia had jumped onto the platform, her golden eyes flashing with a terrifying, divine light.

With a single, vertical downward cleave, her blade severed the Troll priest’s webbed arm entirely at the elbow, sending the jagged ritual dagger clattering harmlessly into the trench below.

Before the priest could even scream, Alisa appeared right behind his back.

Her drow-steel dagger drove cleanly up through the base of his skull, extinguishing his Martial Master dual cores in a single, silent second.

The pulsing purple runes on the obsidian altar flickered twice, then died completely, plunging the lower cavern back into normal darkness.

"Argo! Hedro!" Eurenia ordered, wiping the green Troll blood off her arm as she looked up at the suspended iron cages. "Bring our people down. Break every single lock."

"Right away, Alpha!"

As the pack warriors scrambled up the iron chains to free their gaunt, shivering brethren, Alisa cleanly wiped her drow-steel blades on the fallen priest’s robes, her long ears twitching as she turned back toward Roy’s shadow anchor.

The basement was clean. It was time for the master’s move.

[Ding!]

[Your dedicated follower has slain a Martial Master Cultivator]

[You have gained 5 FP]

"Oh?" Roy’s eyes glistened as he read the details displayed on the screen, "It seems my children are quite busy," his lips curled faintly.

This was the reason why Roy permitted even the death of beastmen. Since those slain by his followers, their souls were automatically converted into faith points.

Through this, he could accumulate large amounts of faith points to purchase anything he wanted on the Divine Market.

But since Tiger-men , Fox-men and Hyena-men who are vassals of the Tiger Lord were also beastmen, they are also his potential followers.

He had to reduce the number of deaths, focusing mainly on Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins who guarded the slave pens.

"Well, everything’s going as planned." He inhaled deeply, "I’ve given the Tiger Lord two days to think about my offer."

"It’s time to pay that old Frogman cultivator a visit." His eyes flickered for a second, "I’ll need a strong priest to guide my children."

"He’s perfect to play that role."