He not only commanded the griffon but also the colossal tortoise, effortlessly annihilating hordes of monsters without directly using his own power.

How immense must his strength truly be?

Kissinger felt an invisible blade press against his throat—a suffocating realization that until now he would have laughed off as impossible.

(That boy's power... it undoubtedly rivals the Demon Lord’s.)

Could he defeat him in battle? No, there wasn’t even a one-in-a-million chance of victory.

In that case, what could he do? Kissinger immediately recalled the orders he had been given.

Wasting no time, he activated high-speed communication magic, using a magical crystal as a medium to send a message across great distances.

"The Hero is a boy commanding a colossal tortoise and a griffon. Investigate immediately. His strength may threaten the Demon Lord. I will now challenge the Hero with my life on the line."

The message was short, limited by the constraints of the spell. However, with information about the tortoise and the griffon—creatures of such size and power—it wouldn’t take long to locate their master.

Even if Kissinger couldn’t reach him, someone stronger among the Ten Fingers, or ultimately the Demon Lord, would eliminate the boy.

By all rights, Kissinger should have fled immediately to deliver further intelligence.

But he knew the enemy standing before him wouldn’t allow it.

And while Kissinger, as a ghostly being, stood near the pinnacle of his kind, he was still just one monster. His instinctive desire to battle a strong opponent was irrepressible.

Without checking on Swarm, whom he had entrusted with a magical artifact, Kissinger soared into the sky alone.

For a weightless specter like him, flight was effortless.

Ascending above the treetops, he blended with the approaching twilight, steadily gaining altitude. Then, without hesitation, he tipped his body forward, accelerating directly toward the boy.

As one of the Ten Fingers, Kissinger’s flight was unmatched. His speed cut through the air, leaving even sound trailing behind him.

Abandoning all restraint, he pushed his acceleration beyond its limits, disregarding inertia and the physical strain it inflicted.

His purpose wasn’t survival. It was to land a blow against the Hero—if not to kill, then at least to weaken him.

The wind screamed like blades around him, and a sharp ringing filled his ears as his body began to disintegrate under the strain. His magic, the core of his existence, was nearly depleted.

Yet Kissinger felt no fear of death. He only wished that what transpired in this fleeting moment would reach the Demon Lord.

Luckily, the tortoise made no move to intercept him.

Perhaps the monster was preoccupied with the battle, or maybe it trusted in the Hero’s strength.

The distance between them closed rapidly, and then...

Zero.

Kissinger’s desperate, full-force charge—expending all his remaining magic—hurtled toward the boy riding the griffon.

But just before impact, a sharp *ping* echoed as his attack was deflected by a magical barrier.

Thrown back with even greater force than his original speed, Kissinger spiraled uncontrollably. Blue energy spewed from his form as he reached out, eyes bloodshot, toward the boy.

His hand met only air.

Blown far away, Kissinger caught a glimpse of the boy's startled expression—a look that suggested he hadn’t even considered being targeted.

Even so, the Hero’s barrier, seemingly passive and without effort, had repelled Kissinger’s ultimate attack.

A high-pitched, grating sound reverberated through the air as Kissinger’s body trembled under the impact.

Then he saw it.

Dozens of arrows of light curved in the air, homing in on him with precision.

Caught mid-recoil, unable to muster any defensive magic, Kissinger screamed—a cry drowned out by the roar of magical energy.

Before the final moment, he shouted his warning to the Demon Lord and his allies:

"Demon Lord! That boy—the Hero—is too dangerous! If we don’t stop him, we’ll—"

His words never reached completion.

The first arrow pierced his eye.

The second struck his throat.

The third shattered the magical core that sustained his existence.

An overwhelming barrage of arrows obliterated Kissinger entirely, erasing him from existence.

With Kissinger's death, the enchantment controlling Swarm was lifted, and the monsters' assault ceased.

The monsters, now free, turned on each other before retreating into the dark forest. Swarm, caught in their retreat, perished as well.

All that remained was a battlefield littered with mangled corpses—monsters trampled, torn, and scattered.

Standing amid the devastation were two monstrous creatures and the boy who had commanded them.

And behind them, a group of adventurers who had never been given the chance to fight.