Chapter 249: EX 249. Respawn
The wolf had fully submitted.
Its head remained bowed, body trembling under the remnants of Leon’s force domain, too broken to resist further. Leon stepped closer, boots brushing against leaves, and crouched at the beast’s side. Its silver coat was still radiant, though dulled now by fear.
He laid a hand against its flank, voice steady.
"Don’t resist."
The wolf obeyed instantly, muscles loosening as though his words had been law. Leon let his power stir.
The Mark answered.
An eerie energy seeped out of him, black at its edges but pulsing with a violent violet glow. His control faltered, the void in his eye shone bright, swallowing its blue hue until only the violet abyss remained.
And as the energy rushed into the wolf, it howled, the sound splitting through the forest, a cry of pain so sharp even the birds scattered. The mark’s power burned its way into flesh and bone, digging into the wolf’s essence. Its body convulsed, limbs striking the earth in frantic spasms. Yet no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t move away.
Leon’s face didn’t change. He stayed crouched, with his expression calm and silent, and his hand pressed to the beast as the process dragged on.
Then the struggling stopped.
The wolf went still. Its chest shuddered once, twice, then nothing. The last breath left it with a hollow sigh.
Leon’s eyes widened.
"...It’s dead?"
The energy recoiled immediately, vanishing back into him as though it, too, was shocked. Leon stared at the wolf’s lifeless body, silence hanging over the trees. He hadn’t expected this.
He stood slowly, gaze locked on the corpse.
"It wasn’t marked," he muttered. "So it didn’t die from the process itself... but something else."
The thought lingered, gnawing at him. If the mark wasn’t the cause, then what?
After a long pause, Leon crouched again. With practiced movements, he retrieved the beast’s core, its faint glow cold in his hand. He buried the wolf beneath a blanket of soil and leaves, his expression solemn, then lifted the core.
There was only one way forward.
Leon absorbed it, feeling the rush of power surge into him, then turned back into the forest, his eyes sharp. If there was something wrong with the Mark or something hidden within it, he needed uncover the truth. And for that, more beasts would have to fall.
****
Leon scoured the breadth of the forest.
From the shadowed groves where packs of horned boars rooted, to the cliff ridges where winged serpents nested, he hunted. Each time he forced the Mark, each time the result was the same, death. No matter the beast’s strength, no matter its resistance, they all collapsed under the violet surge.
Now he sat on the head of a massive serpent, its scales a dull silver, body stretched lifeless through the undergrowth. The beast’s core pulsed faintly in his hand before he absorbed it, the energy pouring into him.
His voice broke the silence.
"What is this talent supposed to do?"
His tone was calm, but his brows were furrowed. "[Attack] didn’t give me such a headache."
He had tried with everything he could find, dozens of beasts since that first wolf, yet not once had he succeeded in branding one. The Mark always devoured. Always ended in silence.
"Is it because I’m using force?" he muttered, standing slowly. The thought pressed harder each time. The loophole he thought he’d uncovered, by making the creatures submit by force seemed not to be working.
He exhaled, frustration simmering beneath his steady exterior.
"...Instead of wasting my time on something I don’t understand, I should focus on something worth doing."
At least this hunt hadn’t been for nothing. Dozens of cores now fueled him, his strength edging ever closer to the next threshold.
Leon stepped off the serpent’s head, his boots pressing into the blood-soaked soil. He wiped his hand clean, then straightened, eyes narrowing.
"It’s time to head back."
In the next instant, his figure blurred, vanishing from sight, speed breaking into a blur no ordinary eyes could follow.
Meanwhile, in another region of the trial world, chaos reigned.
James and his squad were knee-deep in combat against a tide of creatures that shouldn’t exist, undead. Their rotten flesh hung in tatters, bones jutting through as they moved with jerks and spasms, but their hunger was relentless.
A hulking corpse lunged at James, jaw split wide. His hand snapped up, flame bursting to life.
"Burn."
The fireball detonated against its skull, spraying bone and ash across the battlefield.
Crystal moved like a shadow at his flank, daggers flashing. She slipped between the swarming bodies, carving through throats and spines with cold precision. The other squad members fought just as desperately, steel and spells clashing against the endless tide.
But the one holding the line, taking the brunt of the assault, wasn’t James or Crystal.
It was Leon’s clone.
Hundreds of undead pressed in around it, snarling, shrieking, clawing, but the clone stood unyielding, its blade sweeping arcs of devastation through the mob. Each swing crushed, split, or hurled corpses aside, but still they came, dozens more with every breath.
****
This was the third city Leon’s clone and James’s squad had scouted since they began Leon’s mission.
The first two cities had been nothing but ruins. Silent streets, toppled walls, and no life left to protect. Only the stench of ash and corpses lingered there. But this city had been different. The moment their boots crossed the broken gates, the dead swarmed.
Hundreds of them.
If not for the clone’s presence, James and his squad would’ve been buried in the first wave.
Steel clashed against rotting flesh, fire burst across the cobblestones, and fists cracked bones. Carl’s gauntlet glowed as he roared, driving an uppercut into the chin of a staggering corpse, then pivoted sharply with a side kick that sent another undead crashing into a nearby building. Dust and stone crumbled around the impact.
Breathing hard, Carl glanced at James.
"Captain, what do we do?"
James gritted his teeth, flames dancing along his fingers as he blasted another cluster of undead back.
"We hold position. Wait for the Lord’s copy to clear a path, then straight to the vessel."
The plan had been simple, born of desperation. The copy had fought alongside them without complaint so far, its strength overwhelming, And its presence steady. James had learned enough to trust it. Now, all they needed was one opening.
And then it came.
The clone’s blade carved through the mob with ruthless efficiency. Heads rolled, torsos split, limbs scattered across the street. Within minutes, silence cracked through the chaos, the last of the corpses crumpled into the dirt, and a path lay open through the heart of the city.
James didn’t hesitate.
"Move! Now!"
The squad disengaged, breaking free from their skirmishes and sprinting down the cleared road. The clone shifted its stance, ready to hold back the next wave, ensuring James’s squad would make it through.
But before the first step could carry them beyond the danger,
The ground trembled.
A wave of dark energy erupted from the heart of the city, flooding outward like a shockwave of shadow. The air turned heavy, choked with malice.
The fallen undead, those already torn to pieces by the clone, shuddered. Their bodies dissolved into ash where they lay.
For a heartbeat, there was relief.
Then the ashes swirled like smoke, carried by a wind that didn’t exist, until they condensed back into form. Dozens, then hundreds of them, whole again, their hollow eyes snapping open as they screeched with renewed hunger.
And this time, they weren’t scattered.
They reappeared in a solid wall of bodies, surrounding James and his squad, blocking the very path Leon’s copy had just carved.
James’s eyes widened.
"...Impossible."
The clone’s gaze sharpened, its calm expression unshaken. It tightened its grip on the blade, violet light faintly glimmering in its eyes.
The undead had respawned.
And this fight was far from over.