Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 57: Out of The Frying Pan into The Fire

Even within the same tier of monsters, a clear hierarchy existed, and one particular Arctic Dire Wolf had invested considerable time and effort to ascend that ladder.

After spending the better part of a several months relentlessly intimidating its peers and trampling those who lashed out, crushing their spirit, the beast had finally claimed the crown.

With its dominance well established, the wolf now faced the task of maintaining its status and keeping up appearances. It was a psychological game, and the creature had become a master at it.

The pack wisely lowered their heads as the alpha male strutted by them. Suddenly, the mighty leader halted in its tracks. Initially, an unbearable stench filled the air, and then the excruciating pain set in before it realized that its tail was ablaze.

A series of pained howls echoed through the cavern as the beast desperately dragged its rear along the hard floor, extinguishing the flames without a trace of dignity. Then, like a magazine cartridge being slammed into a gun, the alpha's head snapped around toward the source of its torment and humiliation.

Zephyr, with an air of mockery, turned his back, curled his tail like a husky, and brazenly presented his butthole. He silently craned his head around, sticking out a small pink tongue in an evident taunt.

While Dire Wolves struggled to convey facial expressions beyond fury, it was clear the entire pack was on the verge of bursting into a fit of cackling, like a pack of hyenas.

But a thunderous roar from the alpha brought them all to attention, their jaws gaping to reveal saliva-coated teeth, their eyes now locked onto their target. A pair of deadly jaws lunged at Zephyr, but he managed to evade the attack and bolted. The pack relentlessly pursued the pup, following him into a narrow corridor.

Squeezing into the confined space like sardines, the Dire Wolves trampled over each other, chasing the defiant canine until he vanished into a hole too small for their bulky bodies.

It wasn't until the alpha caught a whiff of a peculiar scent wafting from their previous path did it realize something was amiss. However, by then it was too late; the pack found themselves ensnared in a bottleneck, and a crimson sphere, no larger than a marble, fell and rolled to rest at their feet. Its glossy surface cracked ominously, and then—

BOOOOOOM!

A powerful blast, akin to the fiery breath of Cerberus, engulfed the pack in a searing shockwave that utterly incinerated fur, hide, and bone.

Amidst the unfolding chaos, in a secluded and dimly lit chamber elsewhere, a pair of colossal eyes gradually creaked open. A sinister growl resonated, its ominous echoes blending seamlessly with the encroaching shadows.

The Arctic Dire Wolves that were mostly outside of the blast radius instinctively retreated. Despite being engulfed in flames—a force diametrically opposed to their elemental affinity—the surviving wolves, driven by a frenzied determination, defiantly charged at their adversaries. They refused to succumb without putting up a valiant fight.

"Warriors' Battle Cry!"

Adhering to Daisuke's recommended formation, Gavric raised his shield and invoked his Provocation skill, bolstering his defense for two minutes.

While the beasts grappled with his formidable defense, Rexar—now a force to be reckoned with—swiftly slew them with his steely fists.

"Oriyaaa!" he roared, nailing one of the bastards in the ribs as it menacingly hurled itself at him, razor sharp fangs and saliva narrowly missing his cheek.

Gavric, akin to an unyielding fortress, raised his mighty shield to thwart an attack aimed at his jugular. He then thrusted his one-handed sword forward, impaling the miserable fiend.