The world turned gold.

  Shane dove headfirst into the thickest concentration of spores. To anyone watching, it probably looked like suicide. The air here was so thick with the yellow dust that he could barely breathe.

  He covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he squinted through the glittering mist.

  [The Sacred Roses allures the mind with its spores!]

  [Curse: Hallucination Spore (B+) has been activated!]

  [Your deepest fears encroach your body and mind!]

  [Title: Predator of the Seraphim has been activated!]

  [All skills are temporarily upgraded by two full ranks against Celestial-class enemies.]

  Immediately, his skill ranks had changed.

  [Skills]

  Curse Immunity: C- → A-

  Blink: B- → S-

  Skill Copy: C- → A-

  ?Fireball: C- → A-

  Absorb Wound: D → B

  Bloodcraft: B- → S-

  [Curse Immunity (A-) has been activated!]

  [All negative status effects have been purged.]

  Cold satisfaction settled in Shane’s chest. [Curse Immunity] was the only reason he could stand on this stage.

  A massive, thorny vine, thick as a telephone pole, whipped out of the haze. Too fast for an F-rank body to dodge with physical reflexes alone.

  “[Blink].”

  Blink, now an S-minus rank, shifted Shane several feet to the left, barely sipping at his mana and completely lacking the usual nausea, his boots skidded on the cracked asphalt of the Brownsville parking lot as he reappeared.

  The vine smashed into the spot where he’d just been standing, pulverizing the concrete.

  Shane raised his hand. He couldn’t afford to waste mana on large-scale explosions. Even if his [Fireball] was currently an A-minus, he needed to preserve his body to handle the Heaven’s Executioner.

  His eyes locked onto the center of the giant crimson bloom.

  He just needed to neuter them.

  The petals opened, revealing the thick, pulsing stamen in the center—the organ pumping the golden spores into the air.

  “[Fireball].”

  A sphere of red flame, no larger than a marble, condensed at his fingertip.

  The projectile shot like a bullet and struck the very center of the flower with pinpoint accuracy.

  The flower shrieked and thrashed its vines violently, its petals curling in on themselves in pain.

  It wasn’t a fatal blow, since the fire wasn’t big enough to burn the whole plant. But it struck the spore-producing stem inside the petals, instantly cauterizing the wet, pollen-filled sac.

  The cloud of gold dust stopped spewing from its center.

  One surgery complete.

  Shane’s left ear perked, and he immediately [Blinked], but not before pain shot in his side. Thorns sharp enough to pierce steel had shredded the side of his jacket, carving three gouges into his ribs.

  Though the cut was shallow, warm blood immediately soaked his shirt, sticking the fabric to his skin.

  [Remaining HP: 95%]

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  Jesus, it was just a scratch.

  Shane decided to ignore the notifications.

  “Help! Get it off me!”

  To his right, a swordsman from another party was being held down on the pavement by another Sacred Rose, while a Paladin raised a greatsword.

  Shane swore under his breath.

  He [Blinked] directly into the path of the Paladin, appearing mid-air between the monster and the dragged hunter. The sudden appearance caused the Paladin to falter for a microsecond.

  Shane used that chance to fire another compressed [Fireball] over the Paladin’s shoulder. It struck the Rose holding the hunter right in its open maw, singeing the spore-glands. The flower recoiled in shock, its grip loosening. But instead of scrambling out of the way, the swordsman just trembled with his feet planted on the ground, hyperventilating.

  “Move!”

  Shane barked, kicking the swordsman out of the way just as the greatsword slammed down, missing him by inches.

  Debris and sparks showered Shane’s face, cutting his cheek as he [Blinked] away.

  The swordsman would be fine. A kick from an F-rank could do so much to the hunters here, even if they were low-ranks.

  Still it irked Shane.

  You call these professional hunters?

  He weaved through the chaotic battlefield like a ghost.

  [Blink]. [Fireball]. [Blink].

  He burned the reproductive organs of the Roses one by one, clearing the air. Occasionally, he would intentionaly linger, acting as live bait to pull a Paladin away from a stunned tank.

  He was bleeding from a dozen cuts now. His breath came in ragged gasps.

  [Remaining HP: 90%]

  He should probably be grateful that HP was a lethality meter and didn’t just drop 5% points of his health each time he got cut.

  But the mana in his veins was beginning to throb—a dull, rhythmic warning that his [Mana Hypersensitivity[ was close to triggering.

  It was definitely easier to let other people handle the grunt work.

  Though they were an unreliable crew, if he’d gone for the Roses by himself, every Paladin in the area would have swarmed him instantly. Even if he had to save a few tanks from time to time.

  He’d already planted the idea that fire was the Rose’s weakness. Of course, the real reason his small flames could instantly cauterize the B-rank monster parts was because of his [Predator of the Seraphim] title.

  He [Blinked] onto the roof of a low red-brick building to catch his breath for a second. He looked at his trembling hand. Blood dripped from his fingertips to the roof tiles.

  Pretty pathetic. He’d only been fighting for a few minutes and was already pushed this far into his limits.

  And there were still dozens of Roses left. Shane locked his eyes onto a cluster of blooming Roses near the boss. He stepped off the ledge, gravity taking him while his jacket rippled, before he [Blinked] again.

  As he fought, he kept his eyes on the spot where Henry and Luke were positioned.

  Now that they’d started clearing the minions, the next crucial step was timing their attack on the boss.

  The downside of Henry’s [Bind] skill was that it would break if the bound target is attacked. Shane had to watch for the right moment to intervene.

  Surprisingly, his chance came a lot sooner than he expected.

  ***

  “What do you mean it’s only been five minutes?”

  Whitley’s voice cracked, rising an octave in sheer disbelief.

  Around him, the rest of the raid group was slumped against the rusted chassis of a flipped city bus. Their chests heaved violently, sweat cutting tracks through the grime on their faces.

  They looked like they’d just run a marathon at a sprint pace, but in truth, they’d barely moved two blocks from the dungeon gate.

  Every second of holding back the monsters had felt like an hour.

  Shane wiped a smear of his own blood from his jaw. His breathing was ragged, his F-rank HP bar blinking yellow in his peripheral vision, but his eyes were clear.

  He looked at Whitley, who was practically having a panic attack. His jaw tightened like he was about to say something.

  Instead, he pointed a blood-slicked finger to the right.

  “Three o’clock. Two Paladins.”

  “Dammit!”

  The respite was over before it began.

  Fighting for their lives, the party members scrambled to their feet. The tanks managed to put up [Shields], momentarily drawing the attention of the two Paladins to buy a few seconds, but everyone was too exhausted to finish the fight.

  They abandoned the bus, sprinting across the cracked asphalt of the Brownsville street toward a row of red-brick warehouses.

  As they ran, the scope of the disaster became clear.

  It wasn’t just them. From the adjacent alleyways and behind crushed cars, other parties were pouring out, all retreating toward the same choke point.

  The disparate groups collided, a mess of limbs and armor, diving into the open loading bay of an old industrial textile factory. It was a cavernous concrete space, which the parties had promised to meet if the battle got too dangerous. The place was big enough to hide everyone, with heavy metal shutters that they could pull down.

  Shane slid in last, watching the hulking silhouettes of the Paladins march past the street outside. Their halos illuminated the shattered windows of the bus they’d just abandoned, crushing it flat as they passed.

  But they didn’t actively search for the hunters. Not with their boss still pinned to the gate. The Paladins started patroling their borders while the Roses that weren’t harmed spread spores in the air.

  Shane sighed.

  With the people who were acting as bait now cowering in hiding, Shane had no choice but to fall back with them. If he had stayed out there alone, the entire legion would focus on him, and even with [Blink], he couldn’t kite forty B-rank monsters forever.

  He crouched in the shadow of a wooden pallet, watching the merged parties in silence.

  They were all catching their breath, looking way too proud of themselves for getting away without any major injuries.

  “Report,” Shane whispered to the hunter nearest him. “How many down?” Shane asked.

  The question hung in the sweaty, dust-filled air of the warehouse. The hunters looked at each other, uncertain.

  “Uh, well…”

  “We got about five of them,” said Kit McKay.

  Shane shifted his gaze to the A-rank teenager. Kit was leaning against a concrete pillar, clutching a bruise on his side. With the curse debuffs active, the kid was probably as weak as a B-rank at the moment.

  Five.

  In truth, Shane had been counting the number of Paladins his party had killed while he was surgically neutering the Roses.

  They had hit five Paladins. Cracked some armor and slowed them down.

  But they’d only actually killed two.

  It seemed Kit wanted to say “five” to keep morale from plummeting. It was surprising the kid was thinking that through.

  Shane let it slide.

  Still, if that was all they could kill, the other parties were probably no better off than them, if not worse.

  “Celestials are no joke,” a hunter wheezed, sliding down the wall. “Even with all of us ganging up on one...”

  The group fell into a heavy silence. Outside the loading bay, the ground shook with the distant crashing of the Heaven’s Executioner trying to break free of Henry’s [Bind].

  Another hunter, a rogue with shaking hands, spoke up cautiously from the back of the group.

  “Um, d-don’t you think… maybe we’ve thinned them out enough?”