Chapter 193: Destroy The Cursed (10)

Chapter 193

Han could already tell this battle would be far more difficult than he had anticipated. The tailed scorpion beasts were relentless—pouring in wave after wave, their numbers seemingly endless, like an unyielding tide of death. Still, Han wasn’t particularly worried at first. He had confidence in the gathered heroes and guilds. They were powerful, experienced, and well-equipped. The threat, though significant, felt manageable.

That was—until the three-tailed variants began joining the fray.

These weren’t just stronger—they were faster, more intelligent, and viciously aggressive. Their venom was potent, their tails moved with whip-like precision, and their armored hides could withstand most basic attacks. It was a clear escalation.

Even then, Han still believed the guilds could push through. After all, several powerful elites were already in the fight, spearheading the defense with devastating force. So, Han chose to remain on the sidelines, observing quietly, analyzing the battlefield with cold precision. He saw no need to intervene.

But everything changed when a thunderous tremor rippled across the plains.

From the distant horizon came a massive new horde of beasts—larger than any before. It was like a living tsunami of fangs, claws, and primal fury. The sheer scale of the incoming beasts made the previous waves seem like mere warm-ups. Han’s eyes narrowed. He clenched his fist. There was no doubt anymore.

If this overwhelming horde joined forces with the already engaged ones, the heroes would be completely overrun.

"This is no longer just a battle," Han muttered to himself. "This is a slaughter in the making."

He couldn’t just watch any longer.

The dark emissaries can wait.

Without hesitation, Han stepped forward, summoning energy from within. In a flash, ten identical clones materialized beside him—perfect copies of himself, though not quite as powerful. Still, they were strong—more than strong enough to tear through the beasts with brutal efficiency.



"Spread out. Don’t hold back."

With no further instruction, the clones vanished into the oncoming horde, blurs of speed and destruction. Moments later, system messages began flooding Han’s vision:

+30 EP

+40 EP

+45 EP

+39 EP

On and on they came.

The evolution points were small—each clone’s kill didn’t yield nearly as much as if Han had done it himself—but the sheer number of notifications was staggering. The EP was stacking up fast. He was earning more than he could keep up with, and that was saying something.

Still, Han wasn’t satisfied.

Even with the clones wreaking havoc across the field, a gnawing sense of urgency remained in his chest. It wasn’t enough. Too many enemies. Too many lives at risk. And Han had made a promise—to himself, and to everyone—that he would do everything in his power to reduce casualties. He wasn’t about to let that promise slip now.

He took to the sky.

Hovering high above, Han scanned the battlefield, locating what appeared to be the epicenter of the beast formation. That was where he would strike. He gathered energy into both hands, and with a sharp breath, unleashed multiple Inferno Vortexes—blazing whirlwinds of heat and fire that tore through the monsters like paper, incinerating everything in a wide radius.

The ground was scorched clean.

Han landed in the middle of the cleared zone, standing amid the steaming remains of the beasts. His breath was steady, and his eyes burned with purpose.

"This is the perfect spot."

Because now—finally—he could use the one skill he had been holding back: the final form of the Jungle Art.

This particular skill had no offensive capabilities. It didn’t burn, freeze, cut, or blast. It was pure support—pure enhancement. But now that the art had reached S-rank, its power was extraordinary.

Unlike before, it no longer affected just Han.

Now, it could enhance his allies—every hero, every warrior, every fighter within range.

Han hadn’t used this technique in a long time. Not since it evolved to this level. He had no idea how drastic the effect would be now... but he was about to find out.

But there was no time to waste. Every second Han delayed meant more innocent lives could be lost—and he wasn’t the kind of man to stand idle while people died. His gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the chaos, the blood, the screams... and the sheer number of beasts overwhelming the forces.

Han narrowed his eyes. They shifted into narrow slits, sharp and primal. His fingers twitched, bones cracking as his nails elongated into deadly, glistening claws. His teeth sharpened, fangs emerging—small but lethal. His presence began to change, becoming more beast than man as he activated the Fifteenth Jungle Art: Lion Roar.

Then—he roared.



It was a deafening, primal cry that echoed across the entire battlefield. A deep, guttural sound that shook the very air, carrying strength, courage, and fury in every vibration. The sound didn’t just pass through the ears—it pierced into the hearts of those fighting for their lives.

And the effect was instant.

All across the field, heroes—guild members, elite heroes, everyone—felt a surge of strength run through their veins. Their muscles pulsed with renewed energy. Their minds grew sharper. Their fatigue seemed to lift. The boost wasn’t overwhelming—it wasn’t some godlike transformation—but it was solid. Reliable. Moderate but impactful. Enough to push them past their limits.

They didn’t know how or why, but they welcomed it.

With renewed vigor and burning determination, the heroes rallied. They fought back harder, fiercer. Each swing of their weapon carried more force. Each spell flared brighter. They stopped merely surviving—they started pushing forward.

Even those far from Han’s immediate position felt it. The energy from the Lion Roar stretched beyond the main guild members, touching even the elite units of the coalition. Elexa, Balor, Little One, and their members all felt the same surge. They might not have recognized the source at first, but it made no difference. They took the gift and used it well.

Balor, having just cleaved apart a beast different from the Tailed Scorpions, turned his head in the direction of the roar. His sharp eyes gleamed, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"So... just how many trump cards do you have, Fire God?" he murmured, then clenched his fist tightly before charging back into the fray with even greater intensity, cutting down beast after beast like a force of nature.

Meanwhile, Aiden and the others had no doubt about the source of the boost. It could only be Han. But they didn’t stop to thank him—not now. Instead, they embraced the power and became even more brutal, even more relentless, cutting down monsters with terrifying precision.

Back at the center of the storm, Han scanned the battlefield with hawk-like clarity. His Eagle Eyes were active now, and he could see more clearly than ever before. With the Lion Roar boosting morale and strength across the board, the heroes could now hold out longer.

Which meant it was time for step two.

Han muttered something under his breath, then leapt high into the air, leaving a booming shockwave beneath him. As he rose into the sky, his body began to spin—faster and faster, becoming a blurring vortex of movement.

His expression remained calm, almost serene, even as crackling lightning began to envelop his entire body. Then he called out:

"Tenth Jungle Art: Falcon Dive – Lightning Style."

And he descended.

Like a divine spear hurled from the heavens, Han plummeted, spinning like a drill, lightning tearing through the air around him. The force of his descent screamed through the battlefield, a living bolt of judgment crashing down into the largest cluster of beasts.

The impact was devastating.

The beasts closest to his landing point were annihilated instantly, torn apart by the raw power of the strike. The blast radius extended more than a hundred meters, and those even on the fringes of the aftershock staggered, their bodies convulsing from the sheer force of the compressed lightning.

Before the survivors could recover, Han raised his arm—lightning dancing wildly across his fingertips. With a sharp flick of his wrist, multiple arcs of electricity burst forth, zapping through the staggered beasts with surgical precision. Screams filled the air as the creatures dropped, one by one, lifeless and charred.

Han stood tall amidst the scorched ground, eyes scanning.

But despite the carnage, he didn’t use Thunderclap—one of his strongest techniques. He wanted to, but he couldn’t.

Too many heroes were nearby, and the destructive force of Thunderclap was too vast. Using it here might kill more allies than enemies.

So instead, he opted for the next best thing: the refined, deadly precision of Lightning-Style Jungle Arts.

With the volatile nature of lightning, every attack Han delivered crackled with intensity. His strikes were naturally long-ranged upon contact, extending the arc of devastation—but not so far as to become wildly uncontrollable. It was this balance that made lightning such a perfect conduit for his abilities. That’s exactly what Han had exploited during the Falcon Dive: Lightning Style. The result had been nothing short of astonishing—an eruption of thunderous force and deadly precision that tore through the enemy ranks like divine judgment from the heavens.



As Han hovered above the battlefield, the electricity still dancing faintly across his body, he stared down at his hand—something felt... off. He clenched and unclenched his fist slowly. There was no pain. No injury. But deep in his gut, a strange sensation twisted—an instinctive alarm bell ringing.

He looked around again. The battlefield had begun to shift. The heroes—empowered by his Lion Roar—fought with rekindled might, their attacks fierce and relentless. Even the elite warriors of the allied forces were pressing forward with renewed aggression. The tides of battle were finally, slowly, turning in their favor.

Yet, that feeling—unease—persisted.

"Why... why can’t I shake this off?" Han murmured under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning the edges of the war zone.

There he saw it.

The Red Vanguards—those ominous figures cloaked in blood-colored armor—still hadn’t moved. They stood at the far end of the battlefield, unmoving, like statues carved from war itself. Not a single one of them had joined the fray.

Han’s eyes narrowed into slits, his instincts flaring stronger now.

"Could it be them...?" he muttered, gaze hardening.

The battlefield roared with clashing steel and beastly howls, but for Han, the world seemed to go silent as he focused entirely on those crimson specters of war. What were they waiting for? What were they planning?

Whatever it was, he knew one thing—it wouldn’t be good news for them.

To be continued.....

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