As Henry kept healing, a lot of the roc’s wounds slowly closed up. Its condition improved at a visible pace.

Before long, the unconscious roc cracked its eyes open again, dazed and unfocused.

Then its gaze landed on Ethan’s group—and the confusion snapped into pure hostility.

Ethan signaled Henry to stop. He stepped to the front of the roc and spoke slowly, keeping his hands where it could see them.

"Easy, big guy. You’re this strong, so I’m guessing you’re not stupid. You can understand me, right?"

"We just risked our lives to pull you out of the Winged Clan’s hands. If it weren’t for us, you’d already be dead—and they’d have dug out your crystal core. You know that."

Henry’s healing had been deliberate. The roc was awake, but it still couldn’t move.

Even so, if it screamed and drew attention, they were in trouble. So Ethan laid everything out immediately.

The roc was too strong for Skinny Pete to control, which was why Ethan hadn’t even called him over this time.

An uncontrolled mutant beast was unpredictable enough. An uncontrolled mutant beast that powerful? Ethan wasn’t about to gamble.

The roc seemed to understand. The viciousness in its eyes eased a little, replaced by wariness—and a flicker of confusion.

It knew its own condition. The fact it was still alive meant Ethan wasn’t lying.

What it couldn’t figure out was why these humans had saved it.

Ethan caught that look and kept going.

"We saved you because the Winged Clan hunting you... they’re our enemies too."

"An enemy of our enemy is a friend. We can work together and wipe them out."

A trace of contempt flashed through the roc’s eyes, like it was laughing at them for dreaming.

Creatures from the Void Realm all seemed to have some way of judging strength tiers—or at least spotting anyone weaker than themselves. Ethan had run into plenty of Void Realm creatures before. Most of them could tell his tier at a glance.

So he understood exactly why the roc looked down on them.

A freshly advanced Stage A, plus two people who hadn’t even reached Stage A yet, claiming they were going to exterminate the Winged Clan?

That wasn’t confidence. That was madness.

Any random Winged Clan expert could probably outclass them.

Still... understanding it didn’t mean he could just give up.

Honestly, Ethan regretted not bringing Skinny Pete. Skinny Pete could communicate with basically any living thing. If he were here, this conversation would be a hell of a lot smoother.

But now Ethan could only guess, piece things together, and hope the roc kept understanding his words.

"We three obviously aren’t enough," Ethan said. "But we managed to rescue you, didn’t we? That means we’ve got something to rely on."

"We have other companions. Their strength isn’t any weaker than yours. If you cooperate with them, I’m confident you can wipe out the Winged Clan—and get your revenge."

Suspicion filled the roc’s eyes. Clearly, it didn’t believe there could be anyone here on its level.

"You’ll see for yourself soon enough," Ethan said, voice tight. "Right now we’re in a dangerous spot. Those Winged Clan experts will catch up any minute."

"We’ll do our best to get your injuries healed. After that—fight, run, get revenge... that’s your call."

He paused, then added bluntly, "They beat you to hell and tried to dig out your crystal core. If that were me, I wouldn’t be able to swallow it."

At that, something sharp and vicious flared in the roc’s eyes.

How could it not want revenge?

The roc looked at Ethan again. The hostility was gone now. It let out a low call, rough and hoarse.

Its injuries were much better. It could tell these humans could heal it—and it needed that help.

Ethan didn’t understand the words, but he understood the meaning.

He nodded once and motioned for Henry to continue.

Henry nodded. One wave after another of healing light fell onto the roc, knitting flesh and closing wounds at a rapid pace.

Feeling its condition improve so quickly, the roc shot Henry a surprised look.

Looks like these low-tier humans actually had something up their sleeve.

Outside the cave, the fight was still raging.

At this point, out of the three thralls, only two were left. The one that died was—of course—Flyboy.

The last soulless thrall Ethan had created had shown up for the first time... and immediately got himself killed.

It wasn’t that he was weak. He’d just spawned straight into nightmare difficulty. Anyone would’ve gotten folded in that situation.

Aerisara was covered in injuries too.

But the Winged Clan had held back against her.

Even if Aerisara was already a soulless thrall, Aeralon clearly still had feelings for her. If they actually killed her and Aeralon blamed them afterward, none of them could shoulder that.

So they didn’t go for the kill. And with Aerisara’s own strength being absurdly high, she’d managed to hang on until now.

The truly terrifying one was Dopey.

Even after fighting this long, it was still full of energy, like it hadn’t even warmed up. The Winged Clan’s attacks barely did anything to it—its physical durability was simply monstrous.

And as for the Winged Clan experts... if Dopey’s fist connected, they were basically finished.

Of course, Dopey’s weaknesses were obvious too.

It couldn’t fly. It had no ranged skills. And it was vulnerable to control effects.

Those flaws also meant that in a fight like this, its performance was nowhere near as oppressive as the roc’s.

The Winged Clan caught on fast. They stayed high in the air and poured out control skills nonstop.

One binding, Dopey could break instantly. But with hundreds—thousands—stacked on top of each other, that "instant" got stretched out into something endless.

So even though Dopey had the power to one-shot these Winged Clan experts, it was still getting pinned down hard.

In the middle of the crowd, Aeralon shot Dopey a vicious glare. Then he led another group away to keep searching for the roc.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kill Dopey.

He just couldn’t.

For the soulless thrall that had cost him an arm, Aeralon hated it so much his teeth itched. After his people finally managed to control it, he’d personally hammered it with a savage barrage.

In the end, he was the one left exhausted—

And Dopey was still perfectly fine.

The shock left him helpless, and eventually he had no choice but to give up.

He ordered half his people to stay behind and keep that soulless thrall locked down. Then he took the rest to search for the roc—and for whoever had carried off the roc’s unconscious body.

He’d already guessed it: the one who’d taken the roc had to be the master behind these soulless thralls.

And for that person...

Aeralon wanted to tear them apart and chew the bones.

He’d never hated anyone like this in his life.

The forest was thick, and the spot Ethan’s group had chosen was well hidden—but that didn’t matter when your enemies had numbers.

It didn’t take long before a large force of Winged Clan powerhouses found the area outside the cave.

Inside, Ethan sensed them immediately. His chest tightened.

Henry’s treatment of the roc was at a critical point. It couldn’t be interrupted.

The roc was far stronger than Henry, and it had been hurt far too badly. Healing it was tricky—messy—something Henry couldn’t rush even if he wanted to.

Ethan thought for a split second, then grit his teeth and said to Henry, "Keep healing. I’ll hold them off for a bit."

With that, he Teleported out of the cave.

Inside, both of them went tense at once, eyes filled with worry.

The roc stared at the spot where Ethan had disappeared.

Something unusual flickered in its gaze, like a thought it didn’t know how to name yet.