I Was a Loner, but My Class Got Summoned to Another World…

In the first hour, Brian had killed hundreds—if not thousands—of demons. He struck with such force and frequency that he never looked back after one fell. He didn't even care if someone stole the kill. He simply pushed forward, his flames burning through any flesh that stood in his path.

His new ability allowed him to use the mana of others as fuel for his flames. It worked best in the middle of battle.

No one escaped.

Everyone who tried to fight him was quickly drained of their mana and burned with it.

His flames had begun to take on a life of their own. They no longer needed full control—just a single command—and they would move independently, burning anything in their way.

This made Brian dangerous to be around. No allies followed him directly. They kept their distance, only finishing off the demons he had left behind.

Brian kept a steady pace, jumping from one group of enemies to the next.

His landings were devastating—every impact like a comet slamming into the ground. Demons fled from him. They had to concentrate their forces if they wanted any chance at stopping him.

That's when one of the wolves entered the fight.

Its silver fur made it stand out, and it seemed oddly resistant to flame.

The wolf dodged one of Brian's punches and returned with a kick, which Brian narrowly avoided. He countered with another punch and followed it with an uppercut, but the wolf dodged both with effortless precision.

Annoyed, Brian summoned fire to boost his next attack. This time, he managed to land a hit on the creature's shoulder.

But it didn't feel right. It was like punching stone.

"What the hell are you made of?" Brian shouted, yanking his fist back and leaping away from another kick.

He felt the air twist violently around him from the force of the blow.

"How… how are my flames being repelled?!"

Brian didn't know what to make of it. Moments ago, he had been tearing through enemies without pause. He had hoped to slaughter as many as possible before dealing with the generals—those cowards hiding in the back.

Snarling, Brian created two dragons from his fire, directing them to clash with the silver wolf ahead.

It didn't flinch. The wolf stood firm and howled, its voice cutting through the battlefield. Around him, the nearby demons began to drain Brian's flames using their mutating stones. Then the wolf pulled out one of his own—and smiled.

It was as if this had been his plan all along—to turn Brian's flames against him, to drain every last bit of mana from them.

"What are you doing?! I'm supposed to be the one draining mana—yours—and burning you!"

Brian was growing more reckless with each attack.

That stopped when two arrows slammed into the wolf. The resulting explosion sent the beast flying back, but it was clearly intentional. The wolf wasn't hurt—just slightly dirtied.

Brian turned toward Owen, who had already raised a hand, signaling him to fall back.

"What is it this time?" Brian shouted, retreating a few steps. He wasn't ready to die—not like his two friends—but clenched his fists, frustrated at being forced to pull back.

"What is it?" he asked again, clearing his throat, still trying to calm the burning adrenaline in his chest.

"We need to retreat a bit," Owen called back. "Give the casters and archers time to recover. We can't keep fighting without mana or ammo!"

Owen did have a skill that generated infinite arrows, true—but they were nothing like the real ones.

"Fine," Brian muttered. "Call them back. I need to heal up too." He didn't complain further.

When he checked his stats, his mana was down to less than 200.

The white wolf, however, stared him down like a predator eyeing prey.

Brian didn't like that feeling.

He was the hunter, not the hunted.

Why would anyone act like they were the ones hunting him?

He pulled out three elixirs—rare, high-grade potions that only a few had the privilege of using. But this was no time to hoard supplies. The real battle was just beginning. Both sides had already lost countless fighters, but so far, the bodies of demons and wolves far outnumbered those of his allies.

Brian glanced at the white wolf, who continued pacing in the distance, never taking its eyes off him.

It was waiting.

Waiting for him to recover.

"And so I will make you wait…" Brian clicked his tongue, fury simmering beneath his skin.

"Don't keep your focus on that one," Owen warned. "There are far more dangerous ones out there—and they're going for you. If I hadn't stopped you, three others would've joined in and captured you."

He pointed toward the battlefield, where three other wolves moved in the distance—each a different color.

One was dark red. Another was pitch black. And the last had fur of grey and brown—a mixture that gave it a rough, primal look.

That one, in particular, looked deadly.

It was also the one that had crept dangerously close to Brian earlier while fighting with the silver wolf.

"Where are the others in the damn class?" Brian growled. "Weren't we all supposed to be here, fighting these demons?"

"They're still off doing their quests," Owen replied, voice tight. "The demons are probably attacking now to catch us unprepared. Only a few of us actually finished ours."

Brian felt his energy returning. His mana had risen above 70%, and he was ready to jump back into the fray—at least to buy some time for the others.

"Relax a little longer," Owen added. "We need to deal with the dead first. They're giving me the creeps. Something's telling me the demons are waiting… waiting for more to die so they can do something."

Brian's eyes narrowed. "Necromancers? Is that even possible?"

He looked toward the horizon, where countless demons still lingered. They weren't charging. They were watching, waiting. Planning.

"Possibly," Owen said. "I was told… whatever the demons were planning already succeeded. We're now just playing catch-up."

Brian clicked his tongue and tightened his gauntlets.

"I guess you're right, then. Let me burn what I can… I won't have enough mana to fight after, though."