In the Dead Eagle Valley, among the northern mountains of Karnak. Deep within the underground mausoleum of King Rachman, as Chabakunka let out a cold snort, a vast spirit glyph diagram was drawn across the floor. At first glance, the diagram depicted a plump bird in flight. As the diagram completed, it burst into a radiant glow. Amid the light, a large spirit materialized within the mausoleum. It was a bird-shaped spirit nearly two meters tall, with a frame bulkier and sturdier than any ordinary bird, a thick neck, a long and elaborate tail, and its body inscribed with arcane symbols. It looked more like a giant mystical chicken than a bird of prey. At the sight of this sudden apparition, Shihab, who had been shouting insults at Chabakunka, froze for a moment. He furrowed his brow, a vague sense of danger rising in his chest. “Coffin bastard! You’re not Mohn! Who the hell are you!? What do you think you’re doing!?” Shihab shouted warily at Chabakunka. But Chabakunka simply folded his hands behind his back and coldly replied. “Naturally, I’m here to help you be quiet, permanently. “‘Beak Cry’ — Sing.” As soon as he spoke, the bird-like wild spirit beside him opened its beak and let out a piercing soul cry—a shrill, ethereal scream so powerful that even non-Silence-path Beyonders could hear it. This sharp soul resonance tore into everyone’s mind. Under the soundless shriek, Shihab and his men clutched their heads, staggering backward as if their very souls were being torn apart. “Commandment…” Through gritted teeth and trembling breath, Shihab muttered a soul-speech. In an instant, the resolute faith born of his fanatical belief surged within him and his men. This Commandment allowed them to barely resist the overwhelming soul shock. However, some of Shihab’s soldiers—those with naturally weaker souls—were affected before his Commandment could shield them. Their eyes went blank as they stared ahead, dazed and vacant. High above on the rafter, Nephthys also clutched her head as the sound pierced her mind. But covering her ears did nothing to stop the torment. Both she and Soulwhisker within her trembled in pain. Even Dorothy, watching from afar, felt the lingering waves of the soul cry. Frowning, she muttered. “A wide-area soul attack…?” Eventually, the giant chicken-shaped wild spirit’s cry came to an end. Its spiritual form dimmed significantly. In the mausoleum below, the Savior’s Advent Sect soldiers and Shihab, covered in sweat, gasped for breath—relieved, yet clearly shaken. Those who hadn’t been fully protected were still swaying in place, dazed and struggling to recover. Facing this scene, Chabakunka once again spoke in the language of souls. “Come… come… to me… I am the Soul’s Beacon… your beacon…” As his words fell, everyone in the room suddenly felt a strange detachment, as if their bodies were growing lighter, like they could shed their heavy shells and float away. Shihab quickly activated Commandment again, and he and his troops managed to resist the sensation. But those earlier weakened by the soul cry were not so lucky. They welcomed the feeling, surrendered to it. Their souls peeled away from their bodies, drifting upward toward Chabakunka. To others watching, it was a horrifying sight: the soldiers’ souls floated from their bodies, drifting gently toward Chabakunka. Opening his mouth wide, Chabakunka devoured them. The souls ignited into streams of green-blue spirit flames, flowing into his body. Seeing this, Shihab—finally recovering—erupted in fury. “You damned Coffin freak! DIE!!” Shouting, Shihab drew his revolver and fired multiple times. The bullets struck Chabakunka’s body, but didn’t pierce it. Instead, they only shattered the layer of hardened bone-dust armor covering his surface, causing him to stagger back a few steps. This armor was formed from sigil-bound bone ash, crafted by a Bonesmith. It fused with sand and dust to form a self-binding armor—shaped in accordance with the soul it protected. Ordinary bullets couldn’t penetrate it so easily. “Open fire! Kill him!!” Realizing gunfire alone wasn’t enough, Shihab barked at his troops. As his men, finally recovering from the shock, prepared to raise their weapons and fire again, Chabakunka acted. He raised his hand, and once more, a radiant ground sigil unfolded across the tomb floor. This one depicted a massive four-limbed serpent, and within its glow, another wild spirit appeared, this time in the form of a giant lizard, seven or eight meters long, its skin marked with ancient runes. “Sandtongue. Devour my spirituality. Corrode this land. Become its spirit—embody the soil.” At Chabakunka’s command, the giant lizard wild spirit opened its mouth in a silent roar. In that instant, both within and beyond the tomb, the terrain began to change. Inside and outside the mausoleum, the sand and stone piled quietly on the ground began to stir. As if swept by a raging wind, they surged toward the central chamber, converging upon the massive Sand Lizard spirit. The Savior’s Advent Sect soldiers, who had just raised their guns to fire, found their vision obscured by the raging sand and couldn’t aim. By the time they recovered, they were greeted by the sight of a colossal sand lizard, seven to eight meters long, constructed entirely of swirling sand—its savage eyes locked onto them. “Fire!” Without hesitation, the soldiers pulled their triggers. Bullets whizzed toward Chabakunka, but the Sand Lizard threw itself in the way, its granular body absorbing every shot. Not a single bullet made it through. Seeing this, Shihab’s face darkened. Chabakunka did not hesitate. He ordered the Sand Lizard to charge Shihab’s group. The lizard lowered itself and lunged forward. In response, Shihab hurled a spirit-banishing sigil, hoping to dispel the spirit beast. But the sigil had no effect. Empowered by Chabakunka, the Sand Lizard plowed straight through, knocking Shihab aside. Just as it was about to devour him— —a sudden change occurred. From behind the pillars, beside the steps, beneath the sand… shadows stirred. Figures emerged from every dark corner of the grand mausoleum—all differently dressed, all raising weapons at once. These were Dorothy’s corpse marionettes, who had infiltrated the mausoleum during the chaos. Seeing the Sand Lizard attack, they struck together, opening fire from all directions. Having observed the brief skirmish between Shihab and Chabakunka, Dorothy quickly assessed that this unknown Nether Coffin Order operative was overwhelmingly powerful, and that the clash would be one-sided. Standing by and hoping for both sides to weaken each other was not a wise move. Helping the weaker side—Shihab—was the right call. After all, just one cry from that grotesque chicken-shaped wild spirit had given Dorothy a splitting headache and nearly incapacitated Nephthys. A second cry would be fatal, especially at close range. That chicken spirit had remained silent since its first scream, it was clearly charging for another. Dorothy had to act before the second scream began. If this stranger from the Nether Coffin Order died, Shihab would be easy to mop up. As the corpse marionettes launched their assault, the Sand Lizard, as if already anticipating the ambush, abandoned its attack on Shihab. It dissolved back into loose sand and surged toward Chabakunka. Simultaneously, bullets flew from all angles. The sand reformed, the lizard’s coiled body reemerged, shielding Chabakunka from all directions. Not a single round penetrated. “Pests…” Chabakunka coldly murmured. He infused more spirituality into the Sand Lizard. In response, more sand poured in, doubling the beast’s size in seconds. Now towering over the chamber, the Sand Lizard made the entire mausoleum feel cramped and trembling. With a silent roar, the beast charged wildly through the mausoleum, crushing, tearing, and smashing through the corpse marionettes. None could withstand it. The entire mausoleum floor began to quake beneath its movements. But while the Sand Lizard rampaged, Shihab had recovered. Shouting orders for his soldiers to continue firing, he drew his saber, affixed a spell sigil, and enchanted it with flame. Holding the sword of fire, he charged at Chabakunka with a fierce cry. The Sand Lizard leapt back to shield its master and swiped at Shihab. Shihab struck back with his flame-imbued blade, slicing through the sand-covered claw. While the heat and blade had little effect on the physical sand, the spiritual flame burned the spirit’s essence, causing it to howl in pain as part of its claw disintegrated. But Shihab’s flame was too weak to cause real damage. The claw reformed and smashed him away, sending him flying, blood spraying as he hit the ground. Before Chabakunka could sigh in relief, another wave of attacks came. Several surviving corpse marionettes charged him head-on, firing as they ran. The Sand Lizard struck back, crushing the fastest one under its claw. But that marionette was special. As the claw pressed down, a spark flared—the wires hidden within its body ignited. BOOM!!! A thunderous explosion ripped through the lizard’s limb, blasting it apart and sending sand flying. Dust filled the air. Dorothy had rigged that marionette with explosives, harvested from the crates of dynamite Shihab had stockpiled to blast open the sepulcher. She had now turned Shihab’s own explosives against Chabakunka. One claw was obliterated. And though pure physical explosions couldn’t kill a wild spirit, they could delay its reformation… and a delay was all Dorothy needed. Taking advantage of the gap, Dorothy ordered more marionette bombers to charge from the shadows. Each raced toward Chabakunka’s ring of defense and self-detonated as soon as they made contact, blasting open breaches in the Sand Lizard’s body. And into each gap, more marionettes surged in. Each explosion widened the breach. The sound of blasts echoed through the mausoleum and up into the valley. Even the massive stone pillars trembled. The Sand Lizard’s regeneration could not keep pace. Piece by piece, it was torn apart. At last, after the final marionette exploded, the Sand Lizard’s entire body was reduced to drifting sand. Chabakunka, now fully exposed, stood defenseless in the heart of the wreckage. But Dorothy had used up every marionette she had brought into the tomb. She had no more. That was when, from the darkness of the mausoleum’s ceiling, a shadow dropped down, slicing through the dust like a spear. It was Nephthys. She had been waiting atop the rafters the entire time. The moment Chabakunka was vulnerable, she leapt down with dagger in hand, diving straight toward him with a killing blow. Chabakunka looked up, his expression unchanged. He murmured softly. “Beak Cry—Sing.” And the chicken-shaped wild spirit, now fully recharged, opened its beak once more— —and let out a second soul-piercing scream.