SSS Ranked Dragon King: My Innate Ability is Unbelievable.

Chapter 254 254: Henry faces the unknown assailant.

"Don't engage them head-on! There's something else moving within that horde, we can't possibly fight and defend on our own!"

"Get back to the center of the village now!" He didn't wait for a response, quickly pivoting on his heel and beginning a frantic retreat toward the safety of the main encampment.

But would they truly be able to retreat from a predator that had already scented their blood? Of course not.

The moment the Montgomery soldiers turned their backs toward the approaching horde was the exact moment they made the single biggest mistake of their lives, as they traded their defensive posture for a race they were never destined to win.

SHREEIII!!!!

A unified, ear-piercing shriek suddenly erupted from the heart of the undead army, a sound so sharp and filled with ancient malice that it seemed to vibrate the very teeth in the soldiers' mouths.

Before the echoes of the scream could even fade, tens of ethereal, wispy figures known as Wraiths suddenly soared out from behind the wall of zombies.

These spectral killers ignored the laws of physics, gliding through the air with terrifying speed as they closed the distance to the fleeing men in a matter of heartbeats.

Their translucent forms looked far more gloomier than their surroundings, and their elongated claws reached out like icy talons for the living.

"ARCK!"

"GUAH!! My legs, someone help!"

"HELP ME! SOMEE!"

The sounds of the retreat quickly transformed into a chorus of agony as the fleeing soldiers were ruthlessly slaughtered from behind.

The Wraiths moved like smoke, passing through shields and armor as if they were made of nothing more than paper, their touch freezing the hearts of their victims or carving deep, bloody wounds on their flesh.

Those few brave souls who realized they couldn't outrun the ghosts and turned around to face the horde were met with an even swifter end, either decapitated by the soaring Wraiths or instantly silenced by a fresh volley of arrows that continued to pour out from the ever-advancing line of zombies.

Just like that, Henry's first line of defense, the very men he had relied on to secure his glory, were killed in the blink of an eye, leaving the village entrance choked with the bodies of the fallen.

The villagers, who had been watching the scene with bated breath from the cracks in their shutters and the safety of their shadowed homes, were utterly mortified by the sight of such ruthless carnage.

They had lived through years of border skirmishes and petty noble squabbles, but they had never witnessed a massacre so quick and devoid of mercy.

The sight of the proud Montgomery soldiers being harvested like wheat in a field sent a fresh wave of panic through the civilian population.

They began to scramble deeper into their houses, bolting their doors with trembling hands and falling to their knees, desperately praying to whatever goddess or local deity they served to save them from such a gruesome, agonizing fate.

But as the minutes ticked by and the sounds of fighting drew closer to the residential heart of the village, the terrified inhabitants began to realize something profoundly strange.

Despite the undead army moving through the streets with the force of a hurricane, not a single skeletal hand had tried to barge into a private residence.

Not a single zombie had smashed through a window, and the Wraiths, despite their ability to pass through walls, remained focused entirely on the Montgomery soldiers who were cowering in the alleys or trying to regroup.

At first, the villagers found it impossible to believe, thinking it was merely a temporary oversight by the monsters.

But the more they trembled in fear within their homes, the more they realized it to be a consistent truth; the undead were ignoring the locals entirely, as if they were nothing more than scenery in a much larger play.

A few of the more religious elders began to rejoice in hushed whispers, attributing this sudden mercy to their gods finally hearing their pleas and coming to deliver them from the hands of their oppressors.

However, those hopeful thoughts were quickly shattered the moment someone looked up and exclaimed in disbelief.

Despite the heavy, constant layer of dark clouds that hindered visibility and cast the world into a perpetual twilight, the villagers and the remaining, terrified soldiers were able to see a silhouette that defied everything they knew about the world.

For high in the sky, suspended directly above the center of the village, was a figure that looked like a man but possessed the terrifying majesty of a god.

He didn't seem to be flying so much as he was standing firmly in the air, his boots planted on the invisible currents of the wind. Even from such a vast height, his facial features were not easily discernable, but his most striking characteristics were impossible to miss.

His long, brilliant white hair flowed behind him like a banner of ivory, contrasting sharply against the gloomy grey of the sky. Most imposing of all, however, were the two magnificent, dark draconic wings that sprouted from his back, their massive wingspan casting a jagged shadow over the entire settlement.

Henry, who stood at the center of his main encampment surrounded by his elite guard, felt his legs go weak as he stared up at that very silhouette.

The arrogance he had carried throughout the day had been replaced by a cold, numbing fear that felt like lead in his veins. None of the people within the village, whether they were the trembling soldiers or the wide-eyed villagers, needed to be told who was responsible for this current development.

It was written in the very air they breathed; the one who held their lives in the palm of his hand was that very figure who remained rooted in the skies above, watching the destruction with the cold indifference of a master architect.

To the villagers, who were still witnessing the brutal execution of their Montgomery tormentors, the winged figure began to look less like a monster and more like a heavenly messenger come to save them from a fate of slavery and violation.

To the soldiers, however, that very same being was a living nightmare made flesh, an apex predator that had descended from the heavens to claim their very lives without fail, leaving no room for negotiation or escape.

The "liberator" of the village had arrived, but he had brought the grave with him. A grave sure to swallow up every single Montgomery soldier.