Alwin stared down the two cultivator guards that—unsurprisingly—had not fallen for his dastardly trick. Who knew that they had the awareness to avoid the classic 'throw a stone to distract the guards' tactic? Those two cultivators must've been the best of the best of the best. How else could they have avoided the pinnacle of distraction techniques?

Enough dawdling about his failures. He had to get rid of them before they sounded the bell.

"What reward do you think we'll get for turning in a Yin-Yang Slime?" the red-robed guard said.

"I hope it's some Spirit Pills," the yellow-robed guard said. "Our monthly allowance isn't cutting it. I really need a breakthrough."

"They better give us at least two."

"Don't worry. We'll just tell them that this beast was tougher than expected. Do you think they'll buy it if we claim it's from the Monster Army?"

"Only one way to find out."

The two guards charged at Alwin, brandishing their blades as they closed the distance. Alwin was in full panic mode. How could he handle this in the most stealthy way possible? What if the fight was so loud that other guards were alerted, and this whole plan was a bust? Why couldn't his super-duper mega-awesome sneaky plan have worked? Curse these super elite guards.

"Stop wasting time," a voice echoed in his head.

It was Niwla.

"But—"

"Just let me handle it."

Black and white blended together in a flash of light as a chilling wind blasted through the area. They had gone full circle, and Niwla was back in control.

"A transforming beast? We're definitely getting more than two Spirit Pills," said the red-robed guard.

The Cold Turkey stared down the charging cultivators. Seeing it through Alwin's eyes was one thing, but experiencing it for himself was another. Everything was clearer. And in typical Alwin fashion, he had blown things out of proportion. The cultivators weren't these 'elites' he had been harping about in their shared mind.

Their blades were dull. Their footwork was clumsy. Their awareness of their surroundings was so non-existent that they could only see what was in front of them. These guards were nothing more than a bump in the road. An inconvenience to an otherwise perfect escape.

Niwla spread out his wings.

"Withdrawal," he said.

Blue mist seeped from his body. He flapped his wings, propelling the chilling fog forward. It blanketed the corridor. The cultivators entered the cloud of blue frost without even batting an eye. Truly, they were but incompetent fools. And by extension, so was Alwin.

"You think a cool breeze can stop us? Members of the Crimson Gold Sectttt..." The yellow-robed guard started to slur his words. The effects of Niwla's Species Skill taking hold.

Their movements became sluggish. Each step was heavier than the last as their pace slowed to a crawl. Even the blades in their hands must've felt like ten-ton weights, hands drooping lower with every passing moment.

Sweat poured down their faces, strength leaching from their bodies. Tremors of exertion rocked their world. Just the act of keeping themselves from falling over took all their energy—energy that continued to wane.

Eventually, they could no longer tolerate the unyielding pressure of gravity. Their knees buckled, slamming into the stony ground. Blue veins snaked across their entire body, glowing faintly in the night. Gasps of air punctuated the atmosphere, accompanying the low hum of the burning torches which lined the corridor.

With another flap of his wings, two icicles materialized in front of Niwla.

"Ice Arrow."

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Not just any ice arrow, but one crafted using Ice Essence.

The pair of icicles zipped through the air, chilling their immediate surroundings. They struck the two downed cultivators square in the head, piercing through the lack of protective skills, followed by flesh and bone. Only stopping when they met the solid ground. Even then, the icicles didn't shatter, merely planting themselves into the hardened floor.

Two flames were snuffed out that very night, and two frozen roses bloomed in their place. Crimson liquid travelled up the pillar of ice, dying the blue ice red.

Niwla could only honor their Crimson side, but they should consider it an honor that he showed even the slightest semblance of respect for their sect.

The funeral procession had come to an end, and Niwla needed to continue his desperate pursuit towards the exit. However, he turned back to give the dead cultivators one last good look. Thoughts circled through his head along with mind Alwin's cheering praises. The analytical side of him taking over at the worst possible time.

What was the point of humans anymore? Essence, so that Monsters could evolve, was the only worth that humans could provide. Now that he could refine Essence, what purpose did humans serve other than being a hindrance?

Sure, slaughtering humans for their Essence was much faster than refining, but based on his limited understanding of Essence, the elements of Essence that humans cultivated were too random. It would be much too difficult to steer down the desired evolutionary path.

That settled it. Niwla wasn't going to waste his time with man-made Essence. Maybe some lucky monster would stumble upon their corpses and thank Mother Cor for the free meal before them.

With that out of the way, Niwla ran down the corridor at top speed. Past multiple twisting halls and turns, up and down several staircases, until the end was in sight. He exited into another courtyard that connected the entrance with the rest of the Sect.

Tall marble pillars surrounded the entire Crimson Gold Sect like an impenetrable wall. They must've been enchanted because the tips of the massive columns alternated between ablaze with flames and sparking with lightning. Strengthened by their respective elements, the sharpened points promised death for anyone foolish enough to approach them.

Good thing there was a perfectly working gate—it was an entrance after all. However, the gate was guarded. Two watchtowers flanked the massive entrance, each manned by a contingent of four guards. The towers followed the defensive scheme of the pillars. One had hot flames spewing out of its top while the other had crackling electricity.

Fortunately, they were all facing away from him. Unfortunately, they seemed much more apt compared to their peers that Niwla had taken out earlier.

Dealing with them in one fell swoop would be the ideal method. Accomplishing such a feat would be a simple matter for a monster like him.

Niwla began to flap his wings, ascending into the air with every beat. He continued to defy the laws of gravity until he was level with the guards at the watchtower. He had to settle this fast. His wings weren't built for keeping that rotund body of his off the ground for long stretches of time. It took even more effort to stabilize himself in the air. Each beat of his wing placed both a mental and physical strain on him.

He took careful aim at the cultivators, observing their movements. As alert as they may be, none of them were expecting an attack to come from inside the sect. Niwla tracked their movements, splitting his attention eight ways. Luckily for him, the watchmen were confined to a small lookout area. They would occasionally pace around in tight circles to keep blood flowing to their legs, but most of the time they stood at attention, keeping an eye out for any would-be attackers lurking in the darkness.

"Ice Arrow!" Niwla was forced to shout.

Eight Ice Essence icicles materialized in front of him. At the same time, the cultivator watchmen snapped to attention. They turned around to the sudden disturbance behind them. It took them half a second to realize the threat and another half a second to raise their blades in response.

But by that time, it was too late.

The Ice Arrows hit their marks. They pierced through each of their skulls as if they weren't even there. A rain of blood sprayed out from the gaping holes of what was left of their craniums. Their bodies slumped to the ground, unable to keep a watch over anything anymore. Meanwhile, the Ice Arrows, layered with a fresh coat of Crimson paint, flew off into the darkness.

That settled it. Niwla descended back to the ground and let out a sigh of relief. His wings were sore, but who cared? Once he crossed the gate, he was home free. Technically, Tentative Camp free, but debating about semantics was a problem for Alwin, not him.

With a huge smile on his beak, Niwla pressed his body against the large, solid gate. It groaned open with reluctance.

Darkness greeted him. Freedom welcomed him with open arms. Those sweet fingers of liberation beckoned him closer.

Niwla eagerly accepted it, until they were swept away in an instant.

A soft clinking sound echoed through the night.. It wasn't coming from the sect but from the shadows ahead. Niwla's face grew pale. Something was approaching him. He licked his beak, preparing for the worst.

And the worst really came.

Emerging from the darkness was a figure Niwla was hoping he wouldn't encounter.

Gary Stew stepped forward, illuminated by the roaring flames and crackling electricity of the defensive pillars. An enchanted frying pan in one hand and a chef's knife in the other. Each step caused the spice bottles around his waist to jingle and jangle, clanging into each other.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here? A little birdie's come out to play." Gary Stew twirled his knife and pointed it at Nilwa with a smirk.

"Mind if I join in?"

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