The shadow wolves didn't hesitate.
One lunged forward, claws crashing into a reinforced rib cage, and ripped straight through it. Another snapped its jaws shut around a skull, crushing it instantly. Even these sturdier skeletons were torn apart as easily as the rest, their supposed durability meaning nothing in the face of SS Rank power.
The wolves tore through them without slowing.
Bruce walked behind them, eyes calm, aura steady, advancing as if this dungeon were nothing more than an inconvenience along his path.
A clean march.
A clean harvest.
Shadow and bone collided endlessly ahead of him, and the dungeon itself seemed to recoil as Bruce Ackerman pressed deeper, unbothered, unstoppable, and already done wasting time on fodder that refused to stay dead.
The shadow wolves continued their advance.
