"So what are you guys going to do about the high grades. Leave them all to me," Shom asked rhetorically.

"As if," ’Charles thought.’

Zeta’s already ahead, I’ll have to deal more damage if I’m going to get any strikes in.

The high ends were masses of compressed muscles. Just raw mass. Muscle Density that’s very visible on first glance.

These High ends don’t tend to have abilities other than ’rows’.

It’s a monster equivalent of mana Pulse.

A row is emitted from the monsters mouth. It’s in the shape of a blast. The row upon contact may have unique properties, like freezing, burning is most common. The properties are just about the only thing they have that come close to being haxed.

Using base earth techniques would do me no good, ’Zeta thought’ as she sprinted towards it.

"Here it comes," Michael shouted.

Zeta paused and it landed.

She didn’t just pause, she was actually drawn back by some invisible force.

It was a wind spell.

"What’s good Zeta," Porter asked with a cheeky smile.

She didn’t respond.

She immediately directed her attention back to the high grade.

It was still moving. It seemed to be barely affected by the attack.

"Ok so that didn’t work. Thunder talent. No 90, infinite fold," Charles called out.

Infinite fold is a thunder spell that attacks the target till the user’s mana runs out. It’s obviously not always a smart move as mana is finite, I guess we’ll just have to see how Charles will circumvent this issue.

"Hey how do you guys go about wasting mana pulses when spells like this exist," Charles asked.

Bolts came firing at the high grade, one at a time pushing it back.

The air didn’t just crack—it screamed.

A single bolt of lightning tore through the cave ceiling, a blinding lance of white-blue fury that split the battlefield in half. It didn’t scatter or branch like natural lightning; it was focused, deliberate. Controlled. It struck the high-grade dead center, the impact erupting in a thunderclap so violent it flattened the surrounding ground.

The creature staggered.

Before it could recover, another bolt came.

Then another.

Each strike arrived with a precise rhythm, like the ticking of some divine executioner’s clock. One bolt at a time—never overlapping, never wasted. The space between strikes was just long enough to let the high-grade feel it. To register the pain. To try to resist.

And fail.

The second bolt slammed into its shoulder, sending arcs of electricity crawling across its body like living serpents. Its massive frame jerked violently, limbs locking for a split second before it was forced a step backward.

The third struck lower, blasting into its torso. The force alone shoved it again—boots carving deep trenches into the earth as it struggled to maintain footing. Smoke began to rise from its body, thin at first, then thicker, carrying the sharp, bitter scent of scorched flesh and ozone.

The sky above churned unnaturally, clouds spiraling inward as if drawn to the source of the power. Each bolt was born from that roiling mass, flashing into existence with terrifying clarity before crashing down with unstoppable force.

Fourth strike.

This one hit harder.

The high-grade roared, a sound of fury and strain, but even that was cut short as the lightning detonated against its chest. The ground beneath it fractured, spiderweb cracks spreading outward as its heels dug in—yet it still slid back.

It was being pushed.

Driven.

Dominated.

Fifth.

Sixth.

Seventh.

Each bolt hammered into it with increasing intensity, the intervals tightening now, the rhythm accelerating. Sparks exploded outward with every impact, illuminating the battlefield in strobe-like flashes. For a moment at a time, everything turned white—then plunged back into darkness before the next strike came.

The high-grade tried to move forward.

It couldn’t.

Every attempt was crushed by another descending spear of lightning, forcing it back step by step. Its resistance wasn’t breaking all at once—it was being peeled away, layer by layer, like armor stripped under relentless assault.

By the eighth strike, its movements had slowed.

By the ninth, its roar had turned into something else—something strained, something desperate.

The tenth bolt fell like judgment.

It hit with a deafening explosion, far louder than the rest, a culmination of everything that came before. The ground caved in beneath the high-grade as the force finally overwhelmed it, driving it down, forcing one knee to crash into the shattered earth.

Smoke billowed upward.

Electricity still danced across its body in fading arcs, crackling weakly as the storm above began to calm.

For the first time since it began, there was silence.

Then—

A faint twitch.

The high-grade was still standing.

But only barely.

"It’s almost done," Michael yelled. He immediately charged in.

Before he made contact to finish the high end off, he noticed Shom also approaching, he decided to accelerate to make the cut before Shom.

He got passed Zeta and Charles.

He suddenly noticed Shom decelerate and eventually even halt.

He momentarily follows suite. He stopped to contemplate—

Zeta rushed in.

"Charles you know what, thanks for that assist," Zeta yelled as she drove her blade through the high grade.

"Wait. How did.." Michael stood in shock, there was so much to process but all that would have to wait as another high end just spawned.

Charles noticed Zeta’s use of his opening and smiled. "Ok I don’t get how you’re as nibble as you are but challenge accepted," he said.

It took myself, Charles and Zeta to take one of those things down, if things escalate it might not be as smooth of a raid, ’Porter thought.’

This one began with a ’row’ immediately.

The blast was aimed in the general direction of Rose and Lin.

Miles tried getting Rose out of the way but he was too slow. Michael got to Lin. Thankfully Porter used a spell to get Miles and Rose to safety.

"It’s not wise using my mana defensively like that, but what can I do," he said.

"Thunder talent, no 13, vision sweep," Charles chanted. He immediately got teleported on top the high end.

"Let’s put an end to those rows of yours." He thrusted his blade at the trachea area to stop the build up of mana in the creature’s system.

This failed.

He reinforced his blade with mana and it shattered this time around.

He jumped off, his hand got grabbed, but he gets separated from the creature thanks to Porter.

"I had to use another defensive spell."

"I’m basically the only one with a diverse spell kit. If am not as active, the others would mostly be cooked," ’he thought.’

"Is this really all I can do, though?"

"Guys let me give something a try," Miles said.

"Ice talent, No 1, ice reinforcement."

The feet of the creature got trapped to the ground by chunks of ice.

"That was smart," Charles remarked.

"I can’t believe I expected better," Michael said in disappointment.

"You can’t just do that, I mean your mana output compared to that thing is night and day," Porter yelled.

"Earth Talent, no 1, earth reinforcements," Zeta chanted.

"Thank you Porter," she said.

"Oh, that’s ..., that’s just nasty." He grinned.