The forest no longer felt like contested ground.
It felt like territory.
Aldwin walked at the head of the formation, Tidecaller's Staff resting lightly in his grasp. His black robe flowed over dark armor reinforced with layered enchantments, the sapphire core of his staff pulsing in a steady rhythm that matched his breathing. Behind him marched a force that would have been unthinkable only weeks ago.
Hatch strode to his left, axe resting on his shoulder, demonic eyes sharp and eager. Flambe moved to the right, massive salamander body radiating heat that warped the air. Corvus was nowhere to be seen, already far ahead, scouting from shadow to shadow.
Behind the demons marched the dark elves.
They moved in disciplined silence, armor dark and flexible, weapons enchanted but practical. Farid had not come personally, but he had sent his best guards, elite warriors and mages who had survived centuries of warfare in a demon ruled world. They did not question Aldwin's authority. They had seen the recordings. They had seen what he did to the Blood Demon Claws.
And now they would see what he did to monsters.
The Gnoll stronghold revealed itself as they crested a ridge.
It was massive.
Wooden palisades reinforced with scavenged steel. Totems made of skulls and bones lined the perimeter, many of them unmistakably human. Fires burned constantly, filling the air with the stench of cooked meat and rot. Hundreds of Gnolls moved within, hyena faced warriors laughing and snarling as they sharpened weapons or dragged screaming captives across the dirt.
At the center stood the real threats.
Two massive figures loomed above the rest.
One was a hulking Gnoll covered in ritual scars, its body infused with raw divine corruption from the God of Hounds. The other was leaner but far more dangerous, a three armed monstrosity wielding jagged weapons that pulsed with dark energy.
Both radiated the same oppressive pressure Jax once had.
Boss level monsters.
Aldwin exhaled slowly.
"Positions," he said calmly.
The dark elves fanned out, archers climbing trees and mages forming casting circles. Hatch cracked his neck. Flambe let out a low growl that shook the ground.
The Gnolls noticed them seconds later.
Howls erupted across the camp.
War horns blared.
Aldwin raised his staff.
The battlefield answered.
Water surged from the ground as if the earth itself had ruptured. Streams coiled upward, forming spinning blades that tore through the first wave of charging Gnolls. Bodies fell in pieces, blood mixing with summoned water and feeding the spell further.
Aldwin stepped forward.
This was no skirmish.
This was extermination.
The first boss charged him, divine corruption flaring as it slammed through trees and bodies alike. Aldwin did not retreat. Mana surged through his staff as he shifted synchronization with Mulligan.
"Compression pattern," Aldwin murmured.
A spear of water condensed to near solid density and launched forward. It punched through the Gnoll's chest, detonating inside its body. The monster roared, still standing, divine energy struggling to knit it back together.
Aldwin switched.
Verakul's influence surged.
His body blurred forward, faster than the Gnoll could react. Aldwin slammed his palm into its skull. Regenerative strength and monstrous physique combined with raw force. The head shattered. The body collapsed, divine corruption evaporating into useless mist.
The second boss screamed and leapt toward Aldwin, weapons descending in a lethal arc.
It never reached him.
Flambe intercepted, a torrent of superheated flame and toxic breath engulfing the monster. Hatch followed, axe carving deep, demonic strength amplified by rage.
Aldwin raised his staff again.
Water descended from the sky like a crushing tide.
The monster was pinned, burned, frozen, and then torn apart as Aldwin twisted his wrist and collapsed the spell inward.
Silence followed.
Then screaming.
The remaining Gnolls broke.
They ran.
They did not escape.
Dark elf arrows cut them down. Demonic claws ripped through them. Water blades hunted those who tried to flee into the trees.
Within minutes, the largest Gnoll base in the region was nothing but ruins and corpses.
Aldwin stood amidst the destruction, breathing evenly.
The system chimed relentlessly.
Contribution points surged.
Rankings updated.
Somewhere far from the battlefield, martial artists watched through magical feeds.
The Blood Demon Claws saw it all.
They saw Aldwin walk through monsters equal to their greatest foes. They saw demons obey him as a king. They saw water magic used with a precision and brutality that eclipsed their own techniques.
Their elders exchanged silent glances.
"This is no human," one murmured.
"No," another agreed. "This is a calamity wearing flesh."
When Aldwin turned toward the forest edge where their observers hid, his gaze met theirs unerringly.
They bowed.
Not deeply.
Not submissively.
But in acknowledgment.
The Blood Demon Claws conceded.
Not with words.
With survival.
Far above, the rift to the realm of hounds trembled.
The God of Gnolls felt the loss.
Resources wasted. Heralds slain. Territory claimed by something worse than an army.
A monster.
The rift collapsed.
The howls ceased.
When Aldwin returned to town days later, the system confirmed what everyone already knew.
He had entered the top twenty.
Not as a hero.
Not as a savior.
But as a conqueror.