Sir Edrin Vale had killed monsters before.
He knew the signs. The rhythms. The hollow eyes and flickering, instinctive violence. The lack of shape to their strategies, the hunger carved into their mana signatures. Even the cunning ones left traces—feral architecture, parasitic growths, the weightless momentum of something that never considered its own death.
Ashring had none of that.
And the Sovereign… she had died like someone who believed she was going to win.
That stayed with him.
one just outside the dungeon perimeter, beneath the warded canopy the guild had stitched together for field analysis. Most of the support staff were packing up—camp was closing. Orders had come down fast.
No Right Arm of the Demon Lord.
No core disruption.
No real prize.
He watched the data flicker across the hovering interface plates in front of him and scrolled until he found the one he wanted.
Field Report: Ashring Sovereign
- Classification: Flame-Based Entity (Myth-Tier Potential)
