Chapter 739 Massacre

The exact millisecond the middle legs clamped down on the floor, locking the five ground beasts into their unalterable forward momentum, Sol moved.

BOOM!

His body vanished.

Not through some fancy magic, nor through spatial teleportation, but through a burst of raw, instantaneous physical acceleration that shattered the air pressure where he stood!

An afterimage of his slouched body remained for a microsecond in the crimson gloom, drawing the four streams of acid and the five snapping jaws straight into empty air!

BANG! SZZZZZZT!

The four streams of acid splashed violently over the five charging centipedes’ own dorsal armor, sizzling and smoking as the corrosive liquid burned through their black chitin!

The five ground beasts slammed into one another in a chaotic, tangled heap, their massive mandibles crushing empty stone!

Before the beasts could even process that their prey had vanished from the center of their trap, Sol was already inside their guard.

He appeared directly between the second and third ground centipedes, his feet sliding smoothly through the narrow gap between their thrashing torsos.

Because their middle legs were still anchored rigid to absorb the momentum of their charge, their upper bodies were completely immobile for that half-second recovery window.

His right hand blurred.

SHING!

The Dreadwing blade cleared its sheath in a blinding, sapphire-tinted arc.

Sol didn’t swing with broad, sweeping force. He held the blade firmly in a single-handed, upward grip, aiming the tip at a sharp forty-five-degree angle directly beneath the third thoracic segment of the second centipede.

SPLICK!

The sapphire edge glided into the two-inch cartilage gap like a hot needle through fat. It sliced clean through the ventral nerve cord and pierced straight into the brainstem.

Without pausing for a fraction of a second, Sol pulled the blade back out in a fluid, circular flick, his torso pivoting as he drove the point straight upward into the identical cartilage gap beneath the third centipede’s neck!

SPLICK!

Two Layer 3 elites, executed in the span of a single heartbeat.

SKREEE—!

The two beasts stiffened mid-coil, their hundreds of legs going limp simultaneously as their multi-ton bodies collapsed sideways, crashing into their living packmates like dying iron pillars.

Two down. Eight to go.

The remaining three ground centipedes let out furious, ear-splitting shrieks, their tail segments whipping around in frantic, desperate counter-sweeps.

Because their head jaws were pinned by the falling corpses of their kin, they relied on Pattern Two’s counter-balance, locking their rear legs to swing their spiked tails like steel flails across the floor!

Sol didn’t back away.

Instead of jumping backward into the open path where the four ceiling centipedes were dropping down to reinforce the line, Sol stepped straight onto the tail of the nearest thrashing monster.

STEP!

His feet slammed onto the sweeping tail segment at the exact fulcrum of its rotational arc, using his physical density to lock the tail flat against the slate floor!

The sudden, unnatural interruption of its momentum forced the centipede’s upper torso to snap backward, exposing its soft underside directly to the air.

Sol glided forward along the monster’s own back like a shadow.

SHING-SPLICK!

The Dreadwing blade entered the thoracic gap from below, severing the third nerve cluster. The beast shuddered once and died on the spot.

Three down.

Sol didn’t even wait for the corpse to drop. He tapped his feet against its dying armor, launching himself into a low, horizontal vault straight over the tangled mound of twitching chitin.

Mid-air, his senses picked up the movements of the four ceiling centipedes.

They had dropped from the stalactites, their massive bodies raining down in a dense, overlapping pincer formation to crush him as he landed.

Sol’s crimson eyes glinted with cold, ruthless calculation.

While still mid-air, he extended his left hand, channeling a short, dense micro-burst of essence directly through his palm, aiming it not at the beasts, but at the stone floor directly beneath his landing path.

BOOM!

A contained kinetic shockwave detonated against the slate floor, creating a violent upward air current that halted his downward momentum for half a second! Sol hovered in mid-air, allowing the two lead ceiling centipedes to drop straight past his feet!

As the two massive monstrosities plunged past him, their exposed dorsal necks passed within six inches of his sword arm.

Sol’s right arm twitched twice in rapid, mechanical succession.

SPLICK! SPLICK!

The sapphire tip of the Dreadwing blade glided into both thoracic gaps with mathematical, terrifying precision.

The two falling centipedes were dead before their bellies even touched the stone floor, their massive bodies slamming into the dirt with dull, lifeless thuds.

Five down.

Sol landed lightly on the back of one of the fresh corpses, his knees absorbing the impact, his posture completely balanced.

The remaining four Layer 3 elites... two on the ground, two recovering on the far wall... froze.

For the first time since the fight began, the hive’s cold, collective tactical mind felt a shudder of something foreign, something terrifyingly primal: hesitation.

In less than twenty seconds, five of their strongest nest guards... veterans who had hunted subterranean horrors in these dark tunnels for decades... had been slaughtered.

There had been no grand, epic struggle. There had been no long, exhausting clash of spiritual essence. The human hadn’t even unleashed a single technique or a full-power slash.

He was simply moving through their attacks, stepping into their microscopic blind spots, and sliding a four-foot blade into the exact two-inch gap that held their lives.

He was executing them like an expert enemy who knew the location of every bone, muscle, and nerve in their bodies better than they did.

To these primitive, highly evolved predators, this was not a fight. It was a massacre.

SKREEEEEEE!

The four remaining centipedes let out a desperate, vibrating shriek. They didn’t try to form another interlocking cage or try to coordinate their acid sprays.

Driven by pure survival instinct, all four beasts attacked simultaneously from four different angles, flinging their multi-ton bodies forward in a chaotic, suicidal frenzy!

"Panicking," Sol noted smoothly, his raspy voice laced with cool, dismissive calm. "That’s when you make mistakes."

The first beast lunged with its mandibles... antennae twitched twice (Pattern One). Sol ducked half an inch, glided past its jaw, and drove the Dreadwing blade upward into its thoracic gap.