After punching the first Devourer to death, Leo turned to face the rest. Seven hundred and ninety-nine more to go, he thought.
Each Devourer carried a heavy, commanding presence.
When all of them stood together, it was as if the very space around them twisted to their will. The air thickened, charged with bloodlust.
But Leo didn't flinch.
This time, he was going all out.
Around him, the air shimmered with a red glow. A mist of blood rose from his skin, and Leo began gathering the blood from the battlefield.
Every drop flowed toward him, as if answering a call. He even cut open his palms, pouring his own blood into the mix.
He coated his black sword in the dense blood, dark and gleaming. The rest of it formed into tendrils and spears that floated behind him, swaying like predators ready to strike.
Then the first wave came.
About a hundred initial Devourers charged at him at once. It was a terrifying sight—dozens of grotesque creatures rushing forward in unison.
