Chapter 12: Fighting Spirit

Noah's mind was racing, fueled by the adrenaline of the fight and the pressure of an enemy he could barely see. He had never been in a true battle, but somehow, the urgency of the moment sparked a raw, determined energy in him. For once, Noah didn’t feel like the underdog. He was giving this fight everything he had.

“Haaaaagh~!” he shouted, charging forward with all the force he could muster.

He closed in on the skeleton archer, his shortsword raised, ready to strike. Yet, just as he lunged, the skeleton blinked out of view, reappearing a short distance away. Arrows flew in his direction, each one narrowly missing. Noah twisted and ducked, throwing himself to the ground one second and leaping the next. The eerie glow of the arrows’ flight seemed to track him, forcing him to move with increasing agility.

‘I need a plan,’ he thought. He couldn’t just charge at the archer blindly, but he didn’t have much to work with. No resources. No training. Only instinct and sheer determination.

Another arrow whizzed by, skimming his shoulder. The pain was sharp, but he pushed through it. The archer was playing a waiting game, moving just far enough to maintain distance, never allowing Noah to close in. It was infuriating, but Noah kept his cool, studying the enemy’s patterns, the intervals at which it disappeared and reappeared.

As the minutes ticked by, Noah felt his body growing weary, but his mind stayed sharp. His only choice was to outsmart the archer, and slowly, he felt his confidence solidify. Each evasion became more deliberate, each dodge a little smoother. He was adapting to the skeleton’s rhythm.

In a moment of calm between attacks, Noah took a deep breath.

‘Alright, I can do this. I just need one opening.’

The skeletal archer before Noah was eerily agile, every movement quick and efficient. Unlike the armored skeletons they’d encountered earlier, this one wore no protection, just its bare, brittle bones—yet it held an unsettling air of menace. With each step, it moved as if it were a creature of shadow, swift and slippery, an expert in maintaining distance. In its bony hands, the archer wielded an old but well-crafted bow, a weapon that seemed almost out of place in such skeletal hands, yet it moved with deadly precision.

This skeleton, Noah realized, was different—an elite like the skeleton they’d first fought, but stronger, more attuned to its skill. And with the ability to vanish and reappear, it seemed to be reading his every move, positioning itself just out of Noah’s reach, loosing arrows with unnerving accuracy. Though it appeared unarmored and vulnerable, it was proving to be a far more dangerous opponent than Noah had expected.

Arrows whistled through the air, but Noah found himself dodging with increasing ease, his body adjusting to the archer’s tempo as he memorized its timing. He could feel his reflexes sharpening, almost like muscle memory kicking in. But for all his evading and dashing, Noah still couldn’t find an opening, still couldn’t think of a way to close the distance without risking himself to the skeleton’s deadly accuracy. He wracked his brain, every failed approach eating away at his confidence.

The skeletal archer seemed almost aware of Noah’s newfound rhythm, shifting its pace with a calculated unpredictability that left him on edge. As he dodged, its arrows suddenly came faster, each one closing in closer than the last, grazing his shoulder or barely scraping past his arm. It was relentless, forcing him into hyper-alertness, every muscle primed, every instinct sharpened as he deflected, dodged, and parried with growing skill. But just as quickly as it had ramped up, the skeleton’s pace slowed, and the space between arrows stretched to an uneasy silence.

Noah didn’t trust this lull for a second. His pulse pounded in his ears as he hovered, sword poised, eyes darting around for any flicker of movement. The archer’s ability to vanish only added to his tension, its unpredictability now more apparent as it toyed with him, keeping him on his toes. He felt his skills developing under this pressure—[Fly] became less an effort and more an extension of his body, lifting him just high enough to evade arrows while keeping close to the ground to control his movements. His [Swordsmanship] skill, despite his lack of formal training, was becoming instinctive, guiding his parries with surprising precision.

But as his abilities grew, so did his frustration. None of it would matter if he couldn’t land a single hit. His blade was ready, his movements sharp, and yet each time he advanced, the skeleton would disappear, reappearing with frustrating accuracy to launch another attack.

Noah’s was feeling his energy drain as the minutes ticked by. He was improving, but the skeleton wasn’t letting up; if anything, it seemed to be assessing him, mirroring his own learning curve in a strange and unnerving way.

“I need a breakthrough…”

Noah was fully immersed in defense, each arrow requiring his complete focus to avoid or deflect. He knew that if he wanted to land a hit on this relentless archer, he had to be faster—faster than its arrows, faster than its vanish-and-reappear tactic. Yet every time he thought he saw a pattern in the skeleton’s movements, it would change, vanishing unpredictably and keeping him guessing. It was maddening, as if the skeleton was aware of his attempts to predict it, shifting its movements consciously to avoid being outwitted.

Frustration grew as he tried to think of another way to close the distance or catch it off guard, but nothing seemed practical. To defeat this archer, he would need something beyond just raw speed or anticipation—a trick, a feint, something clever that could lure the skeleton into a mistake. But even as he thought about it, Noah couldn’t see a clear path to outsmart it. His options felt limited, and with each passing moment, the skeleton’s calculated strikes only intensified his frustration.

Noah needed something creative and something it wouldn’t expect—but how could he pull off a trick on a foe that seemed as cunning as it was deadly? For now, his only option was to hold out, hoping for an opening that might never come, while he fought to keep his mind sharp and his focus unbroken.

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“This damn skeleton.”

Noah’s mind raced as he reassessed the fight.

Tricking the skeleton was out of the question; it was far too cunning and nimble. If he wanted to land a strike, he needed to push his speed and anticipation to their limits. He’d have to outpace it—predict its next move before it even vanished and take advantage of the limited terrain.

An arrow grazed his shoulder, snapping him back to the immediate threat.

Noah pivoted sharply in midair, dodging to the side and bracing for the next volley.

The skeleton archer vanished and reappeared across the field, almost too fast to track. Another arrow shot toward his thigh, while a second curved from behind, threatening his throat. He managed to deflect both with his sword, his movements instinctual, but before he could regain his balance, another arrow found its mark—this one piercing his left shoulder.

Noah grimaced, feeling the sting of pain as his left arm throbbed under the impact. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his focus. He had to use his surroundings to predict the skeleton’s positioning, using obstacles and his aerial maneuvers to close the gap.

If he could limit its options, maybe, just maybe, he’d get close enough for a strike.

Noah gritted his teeth, his willpower pushing him past the pain of the wound on his shoulder. With swift precision, he sliced through the protruding wooden arrow lodged in his arm, the adrenaline flooding his senses as he focused all his energy on the fight. The skeleton archer, sensing the moment, vanished again, ready to launch its next volley of arrows.

But this time, Noah wasn’t caught off guard. His gut told him exactly where it would reappear. He trusted that instinct. He surged forward with explosive speed, zigzagging through the air, weaving and darting as his mind focused on the predicted trajectory. The narrowness of the cavern worked in his favor, and he used the low ceiling to his advantage.

Noah flew higher, his body moving fluidly as he kicked off the rocky ceiling, his feet springing him into the air with a burst of force. He cut off his [Fly] skill mid-flight, allowing gravity to accelerate his descent.

“Just fucking die!” Noah roared as he plummeted down, sword raised.

Thus, he showed his fighting spirit.

The skeleton reappeared, but it was too late. Noah's blade slashed downward with precision and strength, cutting the archer clean in half. The arrows missed entirely as the skeleton’s body crumpled, the two halves falling to the ground with a metallic clatter.

Noah landed hard, his bones rattling from the impact.

“Uuck… fuck…”

Noah’s body screamed in exhaustion, but his mind was still sharp, honed by the adrenaline coursing through him. His breathing was labored, the weight of the battle and the toll it had taken on him heavy in his chest. He could barely focus on the screen in front of him—his system interface flickering with options as his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

"I... I did it..." he muttered to himself, the words barely escaping his lips as he fell to one knee, still trembling from the fight. His fingers hovered over the system's interface as he checked his stats.

Name: Noah O. Knight

Class: Freedom

Level 5

Stats (20)—

Body: 19

Mind: 10

Soul: 12

Skill: Fly

It was the kind of growth he had hoped for but had never quite expected, not like this. The fight had pushed him harder than any previous challenge, and his stats reflected that. His [Body] had increased by 3 points, a testament to his newfound physical resilience, and his [Mind] had risen by 2, showing his increased ability to think and adapt in combat.

Noah exhaled slowly, taking in the generous experience the dungeon had provided. But before he could properly assess or celebrate his growth, another window popped up.

Choose One of the Three Skills Presented:

1. [Aerial Strike]

2. [Speed Burst]

3. [Adrenaline Surge]

His exhaustion weighed heavily on him. But before he could act, a primal instinct flared to life. Danger. Noah barely had time to react. He staggered to his feet, still feeling the weight of his tired limbs, and just as the ground seemed to lurch beneath him, a shadow loomed above him. The cold, menacing gleam of a mace swung toward him with deadly precision.

Without thinking, his body moved on its own—muscles screaming in protest, but instinct stronger than fatigue. He rolled to the side, the mace’s massive head missing him by mere inches. The skeleton wielding it had finally caught up. Noah’s stomach twisted in dread as the realization hit him: he was far from out of danger.

He could barely steady himself as he caught his breath, feeling his strength waning. His vision blurred, but his mind sharpened in response to the threat that loomed over him. “Huff… Althea… she needs my help…”

He forced himself to focus, to clear his mind, but the pounding of his heart and the strain on his muscles made it nearly impossible. The skeleton’s heavy footsteps echoed in the cave, each sound amplifying the pressure closing in on him.

The fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Noah’s body felt like it was made of lead as he dodged another swing of the mace, his muscles protesting with every move.

It felt like an eternity had passed since he first faced the skeletal archer, but in reality, it had only been minutes. The fight had taken so much from him—his stamina drained, his body sore, and his mind stretched thin by the constant need to adapt. The skeleton archer had nearly pushed him to his limit, and now, standing before him, the mace-wielding skeleton reminded him just how far he still had to go.

This dungeon wasn’t just a test—it was a relentless battle for survival. The sheer difficulty of the encounters had started to sink in. This was only the second fight. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a moment. The fear of failure loomed over him, heavy and suffocating.

The skeleton’s massive mace swung down again, narrowly missing Noah as he dodged with the last bit of energy he could muster. His body screamed in protest with every movement, but he pushed forward, determined not to let it win.

He wasn’t fast enough, though. The skeleton, while slower than him, was relentless. Noah analyzed the situation—he couldn’t keep up this pace for much longer. He needed to recover, to regain some strength before it was too late.

Without hesitation, he tapped into the only resource he had left: his stats. He spent every point on [Body], watching as the numbers shifted. His muscles surged with newfound strength, the weariness in his bones easing just a fraction. His [Fly] skill flickered to life again, and he took off into the air, hoping to put some distance between himself and the relentless warrior.

But the skeleton wouldn’t let him go so easily.

Suddenly, spectral chains erupted from the skeleton’s bony limbs, their ethereal tendrils snaking through the air and latching onto Noah. Panic surged through him as he felt the chains tighten, pulling him back toward the skeletal warrior.

With his sword raised in defense, Noah braced for the inevitable collision. The mace slammed into him with bone-shattering force, knocking him back and rattling his very core. The impact left him dazed, but before he could fully recover, the skeleton struck again. This time, a brutal shield bash sent him crashing to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

A sickening liquid bile rose in Noah’s throat, and he spat it out as he was thrown backward. The chains tugged once more, snapping taut and yanking him back toward the skeleton. His body was bruised and battered, but his resolve burned bright. He couldn’t afford to falter now.

As he was pulled again, the pain of his bruises and battered body intensified. Yet even in the chaos, something deep within Noah—some primal, stubborn part of him—refused to give up.