Just then, five white-furred apes came charging out from inside the compound.

Each of the five had reached Tier 25.

They’d already caught up to Ethan’s group in raw power.

It couldn’t be helped. For the past few months, they’d been eating nothing but top-grade Winged Clan meat. With fuel like that, their strength was bound to skyrocket.

If Skinny Pete hadn’t gotten nervous that they’d outgrow him and slip out of control, he would’ve kept feeding them. At this point, they might’ve already surpassed the Fallen Star Squad.

The white-furred apes had regained intelligence, but their old memories were gone. So when they saw the Bloodfang Orcs, they didn’t feel anything personal.

They just thought one thing.

Ugly.

The Bloodfang Orcs, on the other hand, went pale the second they saw them.

"Stage A... and Tier 25 mutant beasts?!"

The Bloodfang Orc leader’s arrogance collapsed into pure panic. He looked up at Miles like he was staring at a guillotine.

"Please, my lord! We were blind. We didn’t know who we were dealing with," he begged. "Spare us, and we’ll serve you however you want."

Miles didn’t even bother hiding his disgust.

"No thanks. You’re so ugly I wouldn’t take you as slaves if you paid me."

Then he lifted a hand, voice flat.

"Kill them all."

The Fallen Star Corps moved instantly.

Skills detonated across the battlefield—waves of attacks raining down until the air itself felt packed with light and pressure.

The Bloodfang Orcs’ faces warped. They fought back immediately, desperate and vicious.

But when strength was close, numbers became everything.

And it wasn’t even close across the board—plenty of the orcs were only Tier 18 to Tier 21, weaker than Fallen Star’s fighters.

Screams ripped through the line.

Bloodfang Orcs dropped in clusters, cut down in sheets.

Miles pointed toward the slaughter, then looked at the white-furred apes.

"Your old boss, Blizzard—those freaks killed him. Go. Take your revenge. Pay back what they did to your leader."

The apes’ minds were new, but the people around them had told them the story—about Blizzard, about how he’d died.

The moment they heard it was these ugly bastards, their fury ignited. They threw their heads back and roared, then charged straight into the fight.

It was already a massacre.

With the white-furred apes joining, it turned into something worse.

Each ape carried a war club more than six feet long. When they started swinging, it was like watching a storm go to work—one sweep, and Bloodfang Orcs burst into red mist.

The battle didn’t last long.

More than ten thousand Bloodfang Orcs were wiped out to the last.

"Clean up the battlefield," Miles ordered. "Drag the bodies inside and feed them to the Flamebirds."

"Got it!"

As the corpses were hauled away, Fallen Star City settled back into silence.

Only the thick, lingering stench of blood made it clear what had just happened outside the walls.

Seven miles from Fallen Star City, Ethan’s side of the fight had ended too.

The remaining five thousand-plus Mightkin warriors were all dead.

Not to Ethan’s people—but to their sworn enemies.

Still, it wasn’t exactly an unfair death.

Those five thousand Mightkin had dragged down five thousand Umbral elites with them. If they were going out, they’d made sure they weren’t going alone.

The Umbrals were almost completely wiped out as well. While the Mightkin went all-in and traded their lives, the three thralls—and Ethan’s group—had been harvesting Umbral heads like it was open season.

By the time the Mightkin were gone, the Umbrals were basically finished too.

Ethan had balanced it perfectly.

Even so, Ethan deliberately kept more than a dozen Tier 30 Umbral elites alive—barely.

Why?

To turn them into soulless thralls.

They were short on high-tier power right now. If they couldn’t field enough real monsters, they’d use puppets to fill the gap.

Ethan already had three thralls he couldn’t control anymore—but Chris and the others didn’t.

Sure, they didn’t have spatial storage rings or spatial-type abilities, but they were always with him. Keeping the thralls inside Ethan’s ring worked the same. When it was time to fight, he’d just release them, and each person would take control of their own.

High-intelligence creatures like this didn’t drop crystal cores.

So if you couldn’t loot them...

You made them loot.

Maximize profit. Simple as that.

They’d barely finished cleaning up the last of the battlefield when Ethan’s phone rang.

Miles.

Ethan picked up immediately. Miles’s voice came through the line.

"Captain. When you’re done there, come back. Fallen Star City ran into a group of guys who are... kind of strong."

Ethan nodded, even though Miles couldn’t see it. He quickly had people haul the dozen-plus crippled Umbral elites and start moving toward the compound.

Miles didn’t sound panicked. That meant things weren’t at the breaking point yet. And this wasn’t far from the compound—they could get back fast.

So Ethan didn’t rush blindly. He just moved.

Meanwhile, at Fallen Star City...

Maybe the fight with the Bloodfang Orcs had been too loud. Because they’d barely finished cleaning up the battlefield when another wave of Void Realm beings arrived.

This group had blue hair and blue eyes.

What really threw everyone, though, was that they were all women—and every single one of them was stunning. Faces, figures, everything. The people of Fallen Star City practically lit up, eyes glued to them.

But the moment you looked past the beauty, the pressure hit.

These women were terrifyingly strong.

Fallen Star Corps had Awakened with sensory abilities, and they reported to Miles immediately: every one of them was above Stage A, and a lot of them were at tiers they couldn’t even read.

A sensory-type ability could only gauge someone up to five tiers above the user.

Fallen Star Corps members were all Tier 22. If even they couldn’t sense it, that meant many of these women were Tier 27 or higher.

As soon as Miles understood that, he’d called Ethan—especially since he could already tell Ethan’s side battle had ended.

The reason Miles’s tone hadn’t sounded urgent was simple.

These newcomers didn’t seem interested in fighting.

After arriving, they just hovered and looked around, studying the people and the buildings behind the walls with open curiosity. Their eyes didn’t carry the same arrogant contempt the other Void Realm creatures had.

"Are you humans?" asked the voluptuous blue-haired woman leading the group.

"Yes." Miles nodded once.

"It’s really humans..." The beauty looked genuinely pleased, like she’d just found something she’d been hoping was real. "I didn’t think any humans were still alive."

Then another woman spoke up, voice bright.

"Can we go inside and look around? Your buildings are so strange. I’ve never seen anything like them."

Miles frowned. "What race are you?"

"Oh—right, introductions." The leader smiled. "We’re the Azure Nereids. Don’t worry, we don’t mean any harm. Our ancestors have some ties with your human race, so we won’t attack humans."

"Is that so?" Miles didn’t relax at all, not even with those clear, innocent-looking eyes.

He’d always been cautious. And with enemies this strong, there was no universe where he’d just open the gates because someone smiled nicely.

"You said your ancestors had ties with humans. What kind of ties?"

"That’s not convenient to explain out here," the Azure Nereid leader said, still smiling. "If you really want to know, once we’re inside, I’ll tell you. Either way, you just need to understand this—Azure Nereids won’t hurt humans."

Miles’s frown deepened. "That’s a hard sell."

"She wants to go in, let her in. What’s the big deal?" a voice cut in from above.

Everyone looked up.

A heartbeat later, a massive flock of red Flamebirds came sweeping in, wings beating hard as they dove toward the city like a living storm.

"Captain!"

"Commander!!"

Excitement erupted from the wall and the ground at the same time. Countless faces turned toward the incoming Flamebirds, eyes burning with relief.

Even the Azure Nereids looked up, curious now, their attention pulled to the sky.