The specters weren’t more terrifying than the Malignant Spirit. The Lord of the Abyss had laughed at the death of its devout follower. It had even eaten part of Nosolus without hesitation. The Malignant Spirit had been a boss that had nearly killed Owin even while it was only 25% formed.

Compared to the demon, the bloody, dead ocular guard and the weird crawling brain were hardly terrifying at all. It was simply a matter of figuring out how to kill their host bodies before they could escape.

Owin slid both knives from his belt and held them with the points down. Without the hammer, he felt light. There was nowhere else to go. He needed to eliminate the specters as quickly as possible to help Artivan with the wight. And he needed his hammer back.

Owin used the wall to launch himself forward. He managed to crack the stone brick as his bare foot pushed off. The distance between him and the eye vanished as he crashed right into the possessed ocular guard. Both knives easily punctured the eye, spurting cold blood onto Owin’s face.

The brain’s tendril pattered on the ground below, unable to reach the top of the eye. The Thunderstrike Maul glowed as the possessor swung it around in a poor attempt to hit Owin.

The ocular guard bobbed in the air and tried to look up, but all it did was cause Owin to flail around while the knives cut through the colorless flesh. Even as the blades easily sliced into the eye, the possessor continued charging the beam and wobbling around. If only magical things could hurt specters, then cutting into the flesh wouldn’t be painful.

Owin let go of the knives and grabbed onto chunks of flesh, prying them open until the swirling storm of red energy was visible from the top. Five different ideas swarmed through his mind on what to do next. He immediately went with the one he was most afraid of. The one that seemed the most dangerous.

Owin jumped inside.

The ocular guard was about the same size as Owin, so he could fit entirely within the eye if he ducked. His bright purple hair still stuck out the top where he had cut the monster open.

Red energy battered him, burning across his skin like magical flames. The brain holding the Thunderstrike Maul was visible through the pupil as they sank closer to the ground. The brain waited nearby, apparently unwilling to strike another specter.

Every little brush against the red energy caused Owin’s mana bar to drop even further, burning away until only a faint blue line was left. It took less than a second before his mana bar was gone completely inside the raging storm. Pain far worse than what he had felt from the lich’s gray mist flared across Owin’s entire body. His health bar was suddenly bright red in the bottom of his vision, shining like a warning as it rapidly dropped.

Right between his feet was a small, perfectly circular red gem. It glowed like his health bar as the numbers quickly depleted. Owin ripped it right out of the dead flesh and felt his stomach drop as the whole ocular guard fell from the air.

0 Experience

He crashed into the lens as the eye rolled. The Thunderstrike Maul cleaved through dead flesh, nearly cutting the ocular guard in half. With the storm gone, Owin had about three quarters of his health left and one more specter to manage.

Killing the host was considerably easier than killing the shapeless specters. If the possessed brain was just a brain, squishing it would be enough to stop the creature. Owin leapt from the corpse, landed on the stone floor, and slipped on his bloody feet. He fell right onto his face as the brain scurried closer.

The brain was too slow to be scary on its own. The only real problem was that it held the hammer that Owin knew was too strong. He wouldn’t survive a fully charged hit, even if he found a way to block it. He wasn’t even confident that Artivan could live through a full powered hit.

Heat radiated from the red gem clasped in his bloody hand. Two floors ago, he had eaten demon flesh and found it increased his strength. The ocular guard wasn’t a special boss like the Malignant Spirit had been, but it had to do with the type of creature it was, not if they were special. Demon flesh gave a small strength buff. What did this do?

Ocular Heart

There was no other information. If ocular hearts were an alchemy ingredient, as Owin assumed they were, then they would give some type of small benefit on their own. Owin popped the red gem into his mouth.

His sharp teeth crunched right into the glass-like gem. Spicy liquid rushed down his throat.

Intelligence +10

Intelligence: 155

Not the attribute he had been expecting. A small blue bar showed up beside the entire burnt section of mana. He now had five usable mana points, which was far from enough to cast anything.

The brain swung the Thunderstrike Maul down in a telegraphed swing, giving Owin plenty of time to roll out of the way. Before the hammer hit the ground, it used extra tendrils to change the direction, swinging sideways.

The hammer smashed into Owin’s ribs, just below his arm. The castle spun around him as he flew across the room and crashed near the other skull jars. Owin wheezed as he pushed himself off the ground.

How could a small brain swing with so much power?

The possessor was already scurrying across the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the floor as it ran at him. The hammer glowed. It was fully charged. With 60 health left, under half of his total, one more hit could be enough for the brain to kill Owin. He had managed against the bigger, more terrifying ocular guard. A brain shouldn’t be difficult.

Owin sprinted at the brain, ignoring the pain in every part of his body. Each breath whistled. Bones were broken across his chest. It was pain or death, and that had become an easy choice for Owin. Fear had been more painful as he shivered in the rising waters of the labyrinth. There had been nothing he could do back then.

There was plenty he could do now.

He leapt over the brain, easily passing over the raised hammer. He slipped in blood as he landed, rolling a few feet before hopping back to his feet. Owin reached into his bag, grabbed a health potion, and poured it on his face in one smooth motion. He tossed the empty bottle to the side. It hadn’t healed him all the way, but it was enough to help him focus. His ribs stitched back together, causing his entire chest to shift momentarily. He grunted through the pain, but kept his eyes locked on the specter.

No weapons, no spells. But what had he been working toward? Even Ruvaine had said people only respect strength. Perhaps she had meant power, but Owin had taken it literally. He formed both hands into fists. He had speed and strength. A brain was weaker than the hobgoblin leader that he had killed with a punch. All he needed was one solid hit.

The brain brought the hammer down. Last time, it had quickly changed the direction of the swing with impressive dexterity. Owin wouldn’t fall for that again. He sidestepped and jumped. The hammer changed direction and passed right under Owin as he threw a punch with every ounce of his strength.

His fist passed right through the brain and crashed into the stone floor below, obliterating the stone brick.

0 Experience

Tendrils flopped onto the ground. The fully charged hammer tipped over, not releasing its charge as it clattered on the stone floor. Owin pulled his arm out of the brain and flung blood off.

A small explosion knocked pews over in the next room. Metal clanged and scraped. The fight between Artivan and the wight was still going on. Owin took his hammer and sprinted through the opening.

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The wight’s hair hung behind her like she was in the wind as she hovered over Artivan. The knight was on the ground with his shield raised, which was missing a few more chunks out of the edges. Broken pieces of furniture lay scattered through the room.

The wight’s scream caused Artivan to flinch. He kept his shield between him and the wight as she rushed him again, swiping at the metal. Her long claw-like nails gouged strips out of the shield.

Luckily, Artivan was fast. She never managed to hit his armor, even as she tried to reach around the shield. After a few swipes, she simply struck the shield with her palm, sending Artivan reeling again. The sheer power of the hit was enough to throw Artivan.

Owin sprinted straight in, kicking up shattered pieces of wood as he ran. The wight didn’t notice as she smashed against the shield again, tossing Artivan into the corner of the room. He braced himself on the wall and slashed, cutting into the wight’s arm. He had to yank the sword back out, leaving only a shallow, bloodless gash. The wight was full of similar wounds, none of which looked deadly.

The wight floated above Artivan, attacking down at a sharp angle. She screamed as she rapidly swiped at the knight. Owin noticed some blood that dripped from Artivan’s gauntlets. The source of the blood, or the severity of the injury was a complete mystery.

Owin leapt off the ground and swung the glowing hammer. The wight kicked out, smashing her foot into the head of the hammer. Energy exploded out, sending a shockwave that launched broken pews to the other side of the room.

Owin fell hard onto his back. The Thunderstrike Maul fell beside him as a block of dim metal. He groaned and sat up. Artivan remained in the corner, hunkered down behind his shield.

The wight remained in the air. Shredded bits of colorless skin hung from her hip where her leg had once been. She hadn’t even turned to acknowledge Owin. When she screamed again, it caused him to cover his ears and want to run.

Magic. He had to remember the scream was nothing to be scared of. That feeling of wanting to run was fake, only some debuff caused by the wight. The last thing Owin wanted to do was run. Fear was now his fuel. Each time she screamed, he would motivate himself even more.

“Are you okay?” Owin asked.

“I should be asking you,” Artivan said, voice muted by his helmet. He stepped out and bashed his shield against the wight’s next attack. Her claws dug more trenches into the shield and knocked Artivan back into the corner. “I need some room.”

She was obviously strong. Possibly stronger than Owin. Without armor like Artivan’s, he wouldn’t be able to fight her up close for a prolonged time. At least, not as well as Artivan. Owin’s constitution was still too low to tank damage. He needed to get in quick, open some room, and get back out.

The wight still kept her back turned, not taking Owin’s threat seriously. Even losing her leg wasn’t enough to deter her from ferociously attacking Artivan.

Owin shook his head, clearing his mind from the last of the wight’s scream. All he had to do was make room. Artivan was strong enough to handle the fight himself once he had room to move.

Owin grabbed the Thunderstrike Maul and sprinted right back in. Since the enemy was ignoring him, he had a free attack. Jumping directly at her would only give her a chance to block like she had with her foot. He sprinted through the room, kicking some scattered bones aside, and leapt at an angle behind the wight, swinging the hammer horizontally. The wight tensed and brought an elbow back to take part of the blow. Owin’s speed and the weight of the hammer carried the swing all the way through, launching the wight into the wall. Dust exploded out as she crashed into the bricks. Her scream radiated through the room.

Artivan ran from the corner. He grabbed Owin’s shirt and dragged him away as he ran into the center. The entire room was a disaster. Everything was broken, causing the castle to look just like the ruins of the hobgoblin town.

The dust settled, revealing the wight partially embedded in the stone wall. She glared at Owin, but had yet to move as she screamed again. The stone wall was cracked, more from the wight than from his attack.

“How do we kill her?” Owin asked.

“Taking off her head should do it. I need her low enough to reach.”

That shouldn’t be a problem. Artivan was already twice as tall as Owin. All he had to do was be the bait. Easy enough.

“I think she might already want to kill me.”

The wight pushed off the wall, launching herself through the air. She collided with Owin faster than he or Artivan could react. Her shoulder drove right into his ribs, rebreaking what had just been stitched back together. The Thunderstrike Maul fell from his limp hand as he shot across the room. Stone bricks came up to greet him as he hit the ground and skidded until he crashed into the opposite wall.

Owin rolled over, coughed up blood, and spat a gob of red mucous onto the floor. A quick glance showed the wight already heading toward him, not even stopping to acknowledge Artivan. She was apparently very focused on her target. Owin pushed himself onto his feet and squared up to stand against the wight. He wouldn’t survive another hit like that, but she was moving slower now that she was hovering again.

Artivan sprinted, armored boots loudly clanking on the stone floor. The old knight lacked speed, especially when it came to running.

Focus on the incoming attack. Owin stared at the wight, watching her black claw-like nails that shone in the light. She swiped for his face, giving him plenty of time to duck. Her next attack was much faster as if she had predicted his dodge. Claws raked across his face, easily ripping skin across his nose, lips, and cheeks.

The power of the attack threw Owin to the side. Enough blood ran from his face that he practically landed in a puddle of it. Staying still meant certain death. The wight, no matter what level she was, appeared to be the strongest opponent he had faced. Nothing stopped her. Even a fully charged Thunderstrike Maul only took a limb off. If the mobs were stronger as he climbed, the hammer wouldn’t stay useful for long, just as Artivan had said.

He jumped to his feet and saw the world twist around him. His head had never felt so heavy before as he swayed. Owin took a step back to steady himself, accidentally stepping right into the puddle of blood. His foot slipped right out from under him, causing him to fall hard onto his back. The wight’s claws passed right overhead as he landed, having accidentally dodged an attack. Owin groaned and tried to pull himself up, but his body was sluggish.

Artivan’s winged sword appeared in Owin’s hazy vision. It swung in, and stopped as if it had hit a wall. Another scream ripped through the air causing Owin’s head to pound. He reached for a health potion, fumbling it a few times. As he tried to take the cork off, he dropped the bottle, which fell and shattered on his face. The bright red liquid soaked right into the gashes.

His health bar shot up just over halfway. Wounds closed, though the pain lingered, and would until he got his health higher. Everything cleared in his vision, letting him jump right back to his feet.

Artivan was in a hole on the far wall. His helmet was dented and blood ran in a steady stream from his visor. His arms hung limp at his sides. Was he alive?

The wight hovered a few feet in front of Owin. The Winged Sword of the Swift Behemoth had gotten stuck about halfway through her neck. She didn’t seem to notice the weapon.

Owin pulled out another health potion and smashed the bottle on his face. It was the fastest, easiest way to use it, even if he lost a point of health each time.

The wight hovered in place as she watched Artivan, like she was seeing if he moved again or not. Blood ran over his breastplate and down his leg, pooling at the base of the wall. The wight screamed, causing fear to flare up within Owin again.

He looked past the wight at Artivan. His friend. Fear came from possibly losing him, not from the wight herself. Owin was still standing, feeling strong and ready to fight. Artivan had already set up the wight’s death. He just needed a little help finishing the job.

Great Forest Mob

Wight

Level 29

Owin sprinted away. The wight turned and watched him run. She screamed as she tracked him with black eyes. Her hands flourished out to the side with her nails shining brightly.

Owin pivoted, sliding to a stop, then sprinted as fast as he could manage straight at the wight. Her scream grew louder as her mouth opened far wider than a human could manage, revealing multiple rows of needle-like teeth. Owin pushed off the ground, focusing his strength onto one foot. Low dexterity wasn’t a threat when it came to simple movements. He had figured all that out. His aim was always the bigger concern.

Luckily, Artivan’s sword was huge compared to Owin, giving him plenty of room to grab. A quick slash of the wight’s claws caught Owin’s stomach, ripping straight through his shirt and belly. His health plummeted to a little speck of red as he wrapped both hands around the sword. One hand caught the crossguard, while the other snatched the handle.

Momentum carried him through, into the wall. He smashed into the stone and fell onto the ground with the winged sword in his hands. It took a moment to notice the silence as the wight’s screams stopped. The last of the echoes faded.

0 Experience

Owin grabbed his last healing potion and poured it right onto his stomach. He could see his insides and heaved at the sight. His skin snaked out, stitching itself together right before his eyes. The pain of healing was worse than the pain from the injury, though that might have been in his mind. Owin leaned over and vomited, adding to the mess already spread around the room.

There was no time to wait. Owin held the sword up, careful to not let it bump into anything, as he used the wall to stand. Even with some health back, he felt significantly weaker. His ribs and stomach were especially raw. Every little movement felt like a knife stabbing into him. Most of his skin still burned from the ocular guard like he was just a little too close to a fire.

He immediately reached into Artivan’s bag and found a health potion. Owin was out, and Artivan would only have one remaining. Doing everything while holding the longsword was difficult, so Owin carefully laid it across Artivan’s lap, as he was mostly sitting in the wall anyway. Artivan’s helmet visor squeaked as Owin raised it open.

The knight’s eyes were closed. Blood ran from the scratch on the side of his head and from a purple, broken nose. Some still dripped from his fingers as well, but Owin wasn’t planning on taking his gauntlets off.

It took a few careful seconds for Owin to pour the potion down Artivan’s throat. He didn’t want to waste it by splashing it on his face if that didn’t work for humans. He really had no idea.

Artivan’s nose snapped back, but the swelling didn’t go down. The flow of blood quickly halted, even though the wounds appeared to linger more than they did for Owin.

No movement.

Owin sat between Artivan’s feet, ignoring the puddle of blood around him. He rested his head against the knight’s armored leg and stared at the wight’s headless corpse.

Artivan would be fine. He had to be.