A pitch-black night was suddenly split open by a flash of white light streaking across the sky. It spread rapidly from a single point, then expanded in an accelerated frenzy as if multiplying endlessly—tenfold, hundredfold, thousandfold—until it wove into a vast web of pale, terrifying energy that descended with apocalyptic force. Within moments, nearly half of the island was swallowed by this monstrous grid.

"Psionic Storm!"

This devastating ability had been specifically designed to target living beings. It manipulated primal fears buried deep in their consciousness and weaponized them against flesh itself. Creatures slain by the storm were often left not just physically mangled but mentally shattered—reduced to babbling imbeciles, vacant-eyed fools, or raving lunatics.

The storm's electric veins crackled ceaselessly across four-fifths of the island's surface. Yet amidst this chaos, even as their instincts screamed for escape, the frenzied beasts regarded the swamp's waterways with absolute terror—as if those channels were pools of molten sulfur rather than mere liquid.

This left the remaining one-fifth of the landmass suddenly priceless. The creatures surged toward it in a panic, compressing into such density that within seconds the area was more packed than Beijing's subway system during rush hour...

Unfortunately for Aldares, his need to maintain an unmoving stance with hands raised—his body glowing unnaturally as he chanted—made him instantly obvious. To describe this act flatteringly would require words like "showmanship." More accurately? It qualified as pure exhibitionism. If these creatures couldn't detect such ostentatious display, they truly deserved their moniker of "blind brutes."

Needless to say, the instant Aldares was spotted, a maelstrom of hatred converged upon him. Even the lurking xenomorphs in the swamp's depths were drawn by the commotion. Three of them slithered forward through water like snakes, coiling bodies undulating with silent menace. The moment they entered striking range...

Aldares let out a sardonic snort as he recalled Fang Senyan's earlier conversation: "...you needn't worry about dangers during psionic storms. This technique is surprisingly safe for you because in my plan, you're not the main weapon."

"What?!"

"Regarding both area coverage and raw damage, who here can match my psionic storm? If sustained at maximum level for 12 seconds, even gods would weep under such power!"

"Hm. The problem is I can't guarantee those grotesque beasts will stay put for twelve seconds to get beat up. Nor that the xenomorphs will let you chant undisturbed."

Fang shrugged then smiled. "So no—this battle's not about you. Our Mr. Big handles frontline work. You release your storm for four seconds, then escape using blood. Your speed combined with that technique ensures even swamp xenos can't threaten you."

"You dare limit me to just four seconds?! That would only make the beasts more frenzied without actual effect!"

As expected, Aldares' objections were ignored by circumstances beyond his control. Still, he unleashed the storm for five seconds before using blood—he enjoyed watching enemies shriek and flee under his power... though the true potency of psionic storms revealed itself at nine seconds.

The damage progression followed an exponential curve like 2x2x2x2x2—the initial few seconds were merely setup. Only after establishing a sufficient base value would the effects begin exploding in terrifying geometric fashion.

After five seconds passed, three xenomorphs had formed a triangular encirclement around Aldares, their maximum distance no more than thirty meters. Yet deep within distant swamp waters, a single drop of coagulated blood shimmered like ruby. Suddenly it expanded into a water-barrel-thick crimson plane, glowing with arcane red sigils.

The next second saw Aldares erupting from this blood-plane sixty meters away, leaping clear of the trap. As an agile-intelligence hybrid, even these dozen meters gave him enough buffer to evade pursuit through swamp terrain—especially with others ready to assist.

Back at the island, creatures driven mad by storm's torment naturally stampeded toward the unaffected one-fifth section. Imagine a rectangular island where four-fifths are consumed—if not for this remaining sliver, it would look like a narrow corridor.

This slim strip was now packed with six to seven hundred frenzied beasts!

Meanwhile near the island, another hidden figure abruptly stood up, arms raised as he intoned ancient incantations. The earth itself seemed to rumble in response to his invocation. His body pulsed with starlight-like runes—the unmistakable mark of D&D's Metamagic feat: Enlarge Spell! This foretold that the next spell would gain an additional 50% potency.

This was Fang Senyan's true ace: Pokan!

Visible above him, a rock sphere rapidly coalesced in midair. It soon formed a massive boulder dozens of meters wide before erupting with roaring flames. Then this infernal stone plummeted earthward, rolling at terrifying speed while producing deafening roars. As it tumbled forward, it continuously spewed fist-sized firebrands reaching over one hundred meters that scalded fleeing beasts into shrieking chaos.

The scorched path left in its wake was followed by a final cataclysmic explosion upon impact! The resulting blast wiped out all life within dozens of meters and showered the area with soot-like debris staining everything black.

And where did this fiery trajectory land? Precisely along that narrow, sardine-canned corridor now jammed with frenzied beasts!

Aldares had been playing a supporting role throughout—his psionic storm was merely meant to herd creatures into that bottleneck. The real killer move belonged to Pokan's terrain-dependent chaos meteor, a short-cast spell Fang had cleverly positioned as main attack.

At this moment, no one could help but admire Fang Senyan's unconventional tactics. Normally, strategies would center around maximum firepower and range. Yet he'd inverted the paradigm—using his strongest ability as auxiliary while letting others handle primary damage. It was like Mongols abandoning horse archery to crush enemies through infantry, breaking all expectations.

Of course, some questioned this approach. Paul calculated: "We've estimated baseline creature stats at 800 HP and 10 defense. Even with my Enlarge Spell enhancement, only direct impacts from the meteor would instantly kill ordinary creatures. Most others would survive albeit injured. Is this risky maneuver truly worth it?"

Fang's smile at these words made Paul frown in sudden realization—"Oh!" he groaned, slapping his forehead.

"Exactly," Fang chuckled to the still-puzzled crowd. "These aren't data-automated units we can heal instantly. My goal was mass casualties—not necessarily kills."

"If you're familiar with survival dynamics, injured creatures require additional resources for care and feeding. Given their current population barely maintains subsistence levels, this injury-induced manpower shortage will create a massive food deficit. That's direct pressure on the entire ecosystem."

"Even better if they have cannibalistic instincts toward non-recoverable wounded! Injured beasts won't go down without resistance, so internal conflict becomes inevitable. Considering their intelligence level and potential for morale... well..."

***

One chapter today only.

I owe you one that I'll deliver next week.

Honestly can't stay awake anymore.

Spent the day rushing to hospital to give that extra push toward nurses' bonus...

Blood pressure spiked to 120/160, got IV treatment until eight PM before returning home.

Wait—did I want to say something else?

Ah right! The nurse who gave me injections was so gentle with her soft white hands!*