The first thing he noticed was the smell.
Ozone. Sharp and metallic — the kind that preceded lightning before it struck.
Piers looked up.
A blur. A sound like tearing air.
Then Mutou came apart.
Not destroyed — disassembled. Armor plates scattered across the clearing in every direction, silver pieces embedding into trees, the ground, everything. His blue flame flickered out instantly.
Piers didn't even see it happen.
One moment Mutou was standing beside him. The next — gone.
What.
[NULL SYSTEM - CRITICAL ALERT]
[HOSTILE ENTITY DETECTED]
[SPEED: EXCEEDS VISUAL PERCEPTION RANGE]
[THREAT LEVEL: CATASTROPHIC]
The children screamed. Styx spun around, fists raised, searching for something to hit.
Nothing was there.
Just wind. Just the faint impression that something had been somewhere a fraction of a second ago.
Piers stood perfectly still.
I can't see it.
The realization landed like ice water. Not fear — not yet — just the cold, clinical acknowledgment of a fundamental problem.
Vision is useless.
Another blur. A tree behind him split clean in half.
Think.
He forced his mind to slow down. Forced the panic rising in his chest back down beneath the surface where it couldn't interfere.
Protect first. Understand second.
Mana surged outward from his core — structured, layered, dense.
"Mana Tank."
A barrier snapped into existence around the group. Not elegant or efficient. Just thick — layers upon layers of compressed mana forming a shell that could absorb impact.
Around him, the group stood frozen, expressions pale, mouths half-open in shock
Except one.
Styx blinked once, processed what just happened, then her eyes lit up with manic glee.
"Ooh! Again! Do it again!".
Across from him, Mutou hefted his sword—edge catching the light. His voice came steady, grim.
"Young master. Let me through. I must engage it."
"Not now, Mutou," Piers said flatly, already turning.
But the barrier bought seconds, not safety.
I need to find it.
Piers closed his eyes.
Sight was useless against something this fast. Sound was useless — by the time he heard it, it had already moved. Every conventional sense was running three steps behind.
So he stopped using them.
He spread his mana outward — thin, gossamer-thin, a net extending in every direction simultaneously.
Not the creature—the disturbance signature. Compressed air. Displaced mana. The shape absence left behind when something cut through space that fast.
Outer Vision Barrier.
[NULL SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[NEW TECHNIQUE: OUTER VISION BARRIER]
[SPATIAL AWARENESS: ACTIVE]
[MANA DRAIN: HIGH]
The world looked different now.
He couldn't see. But he could feel. Every leaf. Every blade of grass. The children's heartbeats. Styx's breathing. The scattered pieces of Mutou across the clearing.
And there —
A distortion. Moving in a wide arc around the barrier. Circling. Patient.
Apex predator behavior. Studying us.
It stopped.
Piers tracked it without moving his head.
Then it stepped into view.
The Lightning Werewolf was enormous — twice the height of a grown man, fur crackling with constant electrical discharge, eyes burning white with contained energy. Every step left scorched earth. The air around it smelled of ozone and something darker.
[NULL SYSTEM - ALERT]
[ENTITY: LIGHTNING WEREWOLF]
[RANK: S — APEX CLASS]
[ABILITIES: Magic Disruption. Electrical Discharge. Shadow Step.]
[THREAT LEVEL: EXCEEDS CURRENT PARAMETERS]
[RECOMMENDATION: RETREAT IMMEDIATELY]
Retreat, Piers noted distantly. Not viable.
The children couldn't run fast enough. Styx couldn't fight something that moved faster than sight. And Mutou was currently scattered across the clearing in pieces.
Failure is not an option.
The thought arrived with unexpected weight.
He looked at Lucienne, pressed against Styx's side, crimson eyes wide with the particular terror of someone who had already survived too much to survive more. At the elf twins clinging to each other. At Thog, trembling but refusing to close his eyes.
They don't get to die here.
He reached for Soul Puppet.
The connection formed — and shattered instantly.
The werewolf's magic disruption tore through his control like paper. The backlash hit him like a fist to the skull, white pain exploding behind his eyes.
He didn't make a sound.
Tried again. Shattered again.
Third attempt.
The pain was becoming structural now — not just his head but his hands, his arms, something deep in his mana channels burning with overextension.
Stop, some part of him said. You're damaging yourself.
He ignored it.
Different approach.
He stopped trying to control the werewolf's mind. Stopped chasing the creature itself.
Instead, he tracked the distortion.
The shape it left in space as it moved. The compression of air molecules nanoseconds before it arrived somewhere. The electrical charge that preceded each Step.
Not the body. The space.
The werewolf launched.
Piers was already moving — not to dodge, but to intercept. His mana net closed inward, compressing around the exact point in space where the distortion peaked —
The werewolf froze.
Mid-motion. Mid-Step. Suspended in space like an insect in amber, electricity crackling uselessly across its fur, limbs locked in perfect stillness.
There.
[NULL SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[SOUL PUPPET: PARTIAL LOCK ACHIEVED]
[METHOD: SPATIAL TARGETING]
[MANA DRAIN: EXTREME]
[WARNING: CRITICAL THRESHOLD APPROACHING]
He was running out of time.
The werewolf was already straining against the lock, raw power pushing back against his control. Seconds, maybe less.
Finish it.