It circled a giant eagle, darting through the air in a predatory spiral. A chain-like tail wrapped around its torso whipped outward with a shriek—and every time it struck the eagle's body, a deep wound tore open, revealing sinew and bone. Blood rained from the sky in sheets.
The ape gave no quarter.
In one final leap, it landed on the eagle's skull.
Slash!
The head split clean in two.
The body dropped, lifeless.
Not a single cry escaped its severed beak.
And still, Lein's soul beasts pressed on.
From the edge of the battlefield, a shadowy wolf emerged. Its crimson eyes blazed like coals, and when it howled—not just the air, but space itself trembled.
From its jaws, a spiraling black hole formed.
Everything nearby—earth, rubble, lesser beasts—was sucked in and erased. No trace remained. No echo. Only silence and void.
