Re-Awakening: Cannon Fodder With Strongest Talent

The Harpy sensed danger too late.

Ethan released the firing mechanism.

The ballista discharged with catastrophic force

The bolt transformed into a silver-streaked missile, cutting through intervening space faster than ordinary eyes could track.

It struck the Harpy mid-chest, silver-enhanced penetration overcoming the beast’s defences.

The silver-ranked monster plummeted, wings failing as it crashed among its own forces. Its silver aura flickered wildly, life force diminishing but not extinguished.

Soldiers stared in stunned silence, then erupted in cheers that echoed across the battlements.

Ethan ignored the celebration, eyes fixed on the fallen Harpy.

It’s not dead. But it’s wounded.

Even with him using his talents behind it, the ballista bolt hadn’t delivered a killing blow. The creature lived, though injured.

Soldiers erupted in wild cheers across the battlements, weapons raised in premature victory. The silver-ranked monster had fallen, crashing among its scattered forces. To their eyes, the battle had been won.

"Finish it!" A veteran shouted.

Others took up the cry, a chant that rippled through the defensive line.

"Finish it! Finish it!"

Ethan ignored them, his eyes narrowed as he tracked the Harpy’s movements. The creature thrashed amid monster corpses, wings beating erratically against blood-soaked earth.

It’s faking the severity.

The Harpy’s movements, while convincingly pained, lacked the desperate quality of a truly mortal wound. Its silver aura, supposedly flickering with ebbing life, maintained consistent patterns beneath the performance.

This Harpy is intelligent. Cunning.

Ethan had faced the raw power of the Crystal Ape, the lethal speed of the Panther. Both formidable in their own right. But this creature presented a different kind of threat—intelligence over brute force, strategy over direct confrontation.

More dangerous than either, despite being weaker offensively.

The soldiers continued their bloodthirsty chant, eager to witness the final destruction of a silver-ranked menace.

"Sir?" A young captain approached, face flushed with victory’s intoxication. "What do you advise us, to do. It’s vulnerable."

Ethan fixed him with a level stare. "It’s not vulnerable."

The lieutenant’s enthusiasm faltered. "But sir, you shot it down yourself. It’s bleeding out."

"It’s baiting us."

Confusion replaced excitement. The concept of a monster employing tactical deception exceeded most soldiers’ understanding of beast behaviour.

"Keep your men on the wall," he ordered instead. "The battle isn’t over."

After five minutes, Ethan’s prediction manifested with disturbing precision.

The Harpy rose from its theatrical death throes, silver blood still staining its feathers but no evidence of the devastating injury that had sent it plummeting. Its wing beats strengthened with each passing second, generating wind currents that cleared the dust around its position.

Soldiers on the wall fell silent, previous celebration evaporating like morning mist. They’d witnessed a miracle—or a deception beyond their comprehension.

"Impossible," the lieutenant whispered, face draining of color. "You shot it through the chest."

Ethan didn’t waste breath explaining.

Enhanced perception had already detected the healing capacity far beyond ordinary silver-rank regeneration.

Someone—or something—had accelerated the Harpy’s recovery.

The creature ascended with deliberate slowness, silver energy cascading from its restored form.

When it reached suitable height, it threw back its head and released a cry that transcended ordinary sound—a piercing harmonic that vibrated through bone and tissue.

Ethan’s silver eyes scanned the darkness. A presence radiated against his awareness, massive, moving with sinuous grace across broken terrain.

The soldiers couldn’t see it yet, but they felt its approach—an instinctive dread that silenced conversation and stilled nervous movement.

Then it emerged from shadow, moonlight gleaming against scales larger than dinner plates.

<Ferocious Beast: Silver Serpent>

<Rank: Mid-Silver>

<Poison Talent: D+ Grade>

The serpent’s body stretched at least ten meters from wedge-shaped head to tapered tail.

Eyes like molten silver tracked movement along the wall, vertical pupils contracting as they focused on defenders.

Intelligence burned in that gaze, it was cunning and intelligent.

"God preserve us," a veteran soldier murmured. "Never seen one that size."

The Silver Serpent opened massive jaws, revealing fangs the length of small swords. Venom glands pulsed visibly beneath itd scales as it reared back.

"DOWN!"

Ethan roared, enhanced speed allowing him to tackle three nearby soldiers before the attack materialized.

The serpent spat—not a singular projectile but a spray of poisonous globules that arced toward the wall. Each droplet expanded mid-flight, transforming into fist-sized orbs of concentrated toxin.

Soldiers who heeded Ethan’s warning survived. Those who hesitated died screaming, flesh dissolving on contact as the poison ate through armor, skin, and bone with horrifying efficiency.

Ethan processed the situation with worry. The Harpy coordinated from above, directing bronze-beasts toward weak points in the defense. The Serpent provided artillery support, its poison attacks forcing the soldiers to cover rather than engage.

It was a pincer strategy.

’I knew there was more.’

The time for ranged combat had passed. He wouldn’t do enough damage to the silver ranks.

Ethan flared his silver aura in the predetermined signal pattern. It was three pulses followed by sustained elevation. The agreed method for requesting silver-rank reinforcement.

Across the wall, General Ruan would detect the signal. His sector faced minimal pressure—suspiciously so, compared to the concentrated assault targeting Ethan’s position.

The Serpent advanced, each undulation of its massive body covering ground with deceptive speed.

Bronze-beasts followed in its wake, using the silver-rank’s bulk as mobile cover against archer fire.

"Ballistas!" A captain ordered, survival instinct overcoming terror. "Target the big one!"

Three massive weapons swiveled toward the approaching Serpent, bolts loaded with hands that shook despite military discipline. At the captain’s command, they fired in coordinated volley.

The Serpent didn’t attempt evasion. Instead, it opened its maw and spat three precisely aimed poison orbs. Each intercepted a ballista bolt mid-flight, dissolving metal and wood before they could reach their target.

"It anticipated the attack vector," Ethan muttered.

Above, the Harpy screeched new commands. Bronze-beasts responded instantly, formations shifting to concentrate against a section of wall directly beneath Ethan’s position.

They weren’t random targets. The monsters specifically focused where he stood.

’They’re targeting me. Specifically.’

The realization carried disturbing implications. These weren’t mindless beasts operating on instinct.

They recognized him as the primary threat and allocated resources accordingly.

The wall shuddered as the first wave of bronze-beasts reached its base. Claws assaulted the wall, seeking weaknesses in the fortification.