I am an Eldritch Entity-Chapter 209: Fighting sixty one beasts

Eryndor yelled at the top of his lungs to let everyone know the current statistics of the beasts, and ran towards his own section of beasts.

One hundred eighty, divided by six, that was thirty beasts per section.

Valentina's section was counted because her beasts would be funneled towards Eryndor from the back.

That was sixty beasts for him.

As he arrived at his location, he could already see around twenty eight beasts heading his way.

Of course it wouldn't be exactly thirty for every section.

Eryndor stood alone within the walls of the maze, his figure veiled in an eerie stillness.

A wave of unnatural fear rippled through the herd as they got close. Their hooves hesitated, their eyes wide with primal dread.

They felt it.

Their instincts screamed what their minds could not voice—this being was not a prey. Not a predator. Something else.

Something above.

Something greater.

Eryndor's gaze was calm, analytical. His breath didn't falter.

There was no emotion on his face—no rage, no thrill.

His heartbeat wasn't fast, nor slow.

He moved. While the beasts hesitated, this was the best time to attack.

A blur of motion carved through the snowy ground, his steps soundless.

He ducked under the nearest ox's horns before it could even understand what was happening.

A precise palm strike to the underside of its chin lifted its skull. Before gravity could even act on it, a second strike—precisely to the neck joint—collapsed the beast.

He moved to the next.

No wasted movement. Every step, every angle, every strike—calculated.

The beasts clamored about seeing their kin die before them. No matter how much they feared this unknown but extraordinary being, the threat of death was enough to jolt them awake.

There was a single point which must be known though.

The fear one felt when facing a higher existence couldn't simply be adapted to just because one decided to.

It couldn't be resisted just because one resolved themselves to.

One couldn't be immune to its effects simply because they decided to fight with their lives on the line, with adrenaline running through their veins.

It took time to adapt. The fear would always be there, if only for a moment. The resistance couldn't be instant, it wasn't possible.

As Eryndor invaded their ranks, his eldritch form's advantage became evident.

As expected, the fear couldn't immediately be snuffed. Everytime he neared a beast, its hesitation gave him at least half a second. Everytime.

Half a second was more than enough.

He used one's back to vault over two others, landing between their shoulders. With surgical precision, he delivered rapid strikes to nerve clusters behind the ear, dropping them both like puppets with cut strings.

The battlefield devolved into chaos. The beasts at the back, pressured by instinct and momentum, pushed the ones in front forward.

But then they were confronted by the unnatural fear, which made them clumsy. Their formation cracked.

Eryndor thrived in the disorder.

This is why he had asked for Paulina to attach Valentina's section in the behind.

Surrounded? There was no such thing as that. There were still a few seconds before Valentina's beasts would arrive. Once they arrived, there would be even greater chaos from all sides.

He flowed through gaps as if he'd placed them there himself, driving fists into joints, collapsing limbs, snapping jaws with perfectly timed counters.

Six beasts down.

Ten.

And then—the second wave arrived from behind. Thirty three more.

Surrounded now.

Perfect.

Eryndor didn't panic. He stopped moving.

Let the chaos compound.

He stood still, before moving.

The new ones panicked.

Beasts collided into one another. Confusion. Desperation.

He used the herd's own panic against them, redirecting beasts to clash into each other.

All he had was pure physical power.

No cultivation arts, no abilities, not even his Sovereign's Cloak.

There wasn't a single scratch on him yet.

Beasts began to fall—not because of brute force, but because every strike severed a nerve, dislocated a limb, shut down motion.

He redirected a charging ox with a shoulder check and let it collide into another.

One's broken leg became a tripping hazard for three more.

He used precision to turn the horde against itself.

He leapt off a fallen ox's back, twisted in midair, and planted his knee directly on the spine of a larger peak-stage beast. Its legs folded.

A brief flicker of instinct surged through the Ice Oxen. The fear began to fade. Adaptation. Too late.

Eryndor spun, and elbowed the beast's temple, dropped low, swept its legs, and struck it mid-fall to knock it into the next.

He weaponized the fallen bodies, forcing beasts to stumble, hesitate, and expose their necks, flanks, skulls.

Forty left.

Then twenty five.

Then ten.

By now, even Eryndor was panting.

Cultivation gave an all rounded boost with every increase in realm, but it also meant that one's physique didn't get as much of a boost as Martial Artist, or even Beast Tamers.

It was fortunate that he had used Body Refining pills in the past to increase the strength of his body. He had been at stage six at that time, strengthening his body to the limit at what it could handle.

Even though he hadn't used it after that, his physique could still count among the top level of Qi Gathering realm Cultivators.

Compared to Ice Ox in terms of physical department, he was weaker than the peak stage Latent ones, while stronger than the mid stage ones.

But even though he was weaker, the way he applied his force allowed him to dismantle them just as easily.

A minute later only three were left.

At this point he picked up the spiked mace he had thrown away earlier, and used it to kill them.

All this time he refrained from using it because Qi flow was erratic in this form, he couldn't have been able to control the detached head properly without Qi.

And he also couldn't afford to use his Energy of Consciousness on Telekinesis to control the detached head when he could just use his hands to kill the beasts just the same.

Surrounded by sixty one corpses of Ice Oxen, Eryndor stood panting heavily.

I should check up on the rest now.