His initial strike had only been a feint. But, so was mine.

I ducked around his strike and raked the knife hidden in my second hand across his face.

Byron evaded in time and retaliated with his shield. But, I had seen him fight enough times now to predict his actions. I went low and scored a hit on his ankle. And, like clockwork, his foot shot for my face.

I already knew the kind of damage he could deal with his mule kick. Never again.

I caught his foot in mine and allowed the force to propel me away from range.

Byron smirked. He had only been feeling me out—the bastard. Though we had been equally matched all through the opening salvo, [Knife-fighting] simply wasn't suited to this kind of combat. [Frost Aura] also poured out of Byron, slowing my movements.

He had to know this which meant he was intentionally matching my pace. Sooner or later, he would kick into full gear and try to catch me off guard—

Sooner!

I pulled off a perfect somersault and avoided Byron's charge. With all the vehemence I could muster, I slashed him across the jaw.

Byron blinked. His HP dropped a little, thanks to the vicious attack. He refrained from rubbing his chin though his infuriation was clear as day.

“You have improved, elf,” he said.

I spared no words for him and checked the [System] messages. I had been saving stat points since level 21 to pour into Dexterity the moment the stat cap was lifted. The rewards for my prudence were well worth the wait.

You have upgraded an attribute. [DEX] has now risen from Greater to Grand.

You deal 6x base damage using [DEX]-based weapons.

You have gained a mild boost to armor penetration.

The damage increase from 4x to 6x was satisfactory enough, but the boost to AP was even more welcome. I had only one source of that earlier thanks to [Sneak Attack]. But now, I could hurt Byron more than he could hurt me . . . before debuffs, at least.

Dexterity wasn't the only attribute that had improved. A total of four Fear stacks meant I also enjoyed benefits in Perception which had increased from 17 to 21.

[PER] has risen from Common to Greater.

Awareness and reflexes are now 2x better than the base value.

The improved reflexes from Greater Perception helped counter some of the movement penalties inflicted by [Frost Aura], which explained why I reacted better this time as opposed to during past altercations with Byron.

The upgrades didn't guarantee victory, however. That came down to battle smarts and the application of techniques. I'd gained a new technique from crossing Silver Rank, but there was no way I could pull out an entire status sheet during this battle.

Byron and I circled each other, watching for openings. He could no longer handle me with casual disdain, now that I had proved my mettle. I also had a fuller health meter and unused potion cooldowns, though the portion of his HP that remained easily surpassed my own. Guardians had more health than rogues, after all.

The ground crackled beneath us.

“[Icy Terrain],” Byron hissed.

A dense sheet of frozen water covered a wide portion of the room. It froze my soles, causing agonizing pain to shoot up my thighs. The double assault from [Frost Aura] and [Icy Terrain] worsened the bitter cold.

But, more than that—

The new technique granted DoT! My HP dipped, an issue compounded by [Frost Aura]'s defensive debuff.

Byron had just set a timer on the fucking battle. And, by applying tick damage, he had removed my ability to use [Dark Stalker].

I needed to escape the ice.

Before I could lift my leg, however, an ice cone punched me in the gut. The damage disrupted my concentration, forcing [Stealth] from my grasp.

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I skidded across the frozen terrain, crossing my arms in defense . . . and spied Byron hot in pursuit.

The resulting kick launched me off the ground. A second ice cone followed from above. I spun in midair, taking a glancing hit to the shoulder, and shattered the ice upon a foiled landing.

DoT ticked.

The vicious combo left me hurt and disoriented, so much that I couldn't roll away.

A heavy boot pressed down on my chest.

“Do you understand now,” Byron said, “the difference in worth between us?”

He lashed out with his axe, ridding me of a chance to reply. I caught the blade in both hands, inches away from my face. Force strained against force. But, I couldn't win this struggle, not with my Strength being much less than his.

Byron tensed his muscles, causing the axe to sink. “Die.”

I really didn't want to. But, he left me no say in the matter. DoT ticked again, and, Oh, fuck it . . .

Byron and I were now equal in rank, which meant a technique I'd been withholding returned as an option.

[Fear Aura] flared out of me, casting long shadows upon the ice.

Byron resisted it after a flinch, but that was all the reprieve I needed. I slammed my dagger into his wrist and got him to drop his axe. We scrapped for a moment and separated, with no one gaining the upper hand. Sweat poured down my nose and solidified halfway to the ground.

The magical armor that swirled through my body—aptly represented by the health meter—had plummeted past the thirty percent mark. Had Byron been a caster or someone with a few more tiers in Magic Intellect, the battle would have since turned dire.

Thankfully, he was only a Guardian, which gave me a fighting chance against his low-powered abilities. His active techniques also seemed to hammer his MP, and the rest of his renewables didn't fare better. Byron had been involved in a long stretch of fighting up to this point. He had probably exhausted a few potion cooldowns.

Did I dare to turn this into a battle of attrition?

The DoT from [Icy Terrain] ticked with a hearty no. A fifth tick could signify the end of the technique, but I wouldn't wait around to confirm it.

Neither would Byron.

He charged again, grabbing his axe as he advanced. We resumed our deadly dance of weaves, parries, and feints. Byron shoved his shield hand into his inventory—

Oh no, you don't!

I intensified my attacks to preempt whatever he intended. A shield wall manifested between us, transparent, as though made of glass. Byron pulled a javelin from his inventory and flung it with all his might.

The javelin pierced the shield wall and shattered it into thick fragments that peppered my health. I ignored the glass shards in favor of focusing on the weapon aimed at my chest.

Judging by the force with which it had obliterated the shield wall, the javelin packed as much punch as The Chimera. The Chains of the Combat Ape materialized in my arms and swung with enough force to knock the missile aside.

It gave Byron the opening he needed to try a tackle. There was little else I could do. We fell to the ground with the shield interspersed between us, keeping me from using my chains.

“Bastard!” I snarled.

For all my elven nimbleness, Byron proved to be better on the floor. He packed so much mass and dense muscles. And, his shield pressed with the weight of a boulder on my lungs.

What would happen if I died here? Would I return to the fiery pyramid, a mouthless homunculus once again? Or would that be my final death from which there was no resurrection?

DoT damage ticked.

I didn’t want to die. I could not afford to do so after coming close to victory.

Byron pressed down with even more force, causing black spots to creep into my vision.

I didn’t want to die!

Oh no! It seems you are afraid.

+1 has been added to all stats.

You have upgraded an attribute!

[INT] has improved from [Lesser] to [Common].

Your magic attacks now deal 2x base damage.

You have reached the maximum amount of stacks allowed by [Scaredy-cat]. The ability has now entered cooldown.

Magic Intellect didn't mean much to me, but a +1 increase across the board helped, if only minutely.

Sadly, minutely meant shit against Byron. And, I remained pinned beneath his shield. I managed to free an arm. If I could just—

[Frost Aura] subsided and the frozen ground turned to sleet. Byron slipped, looking just as shocked as I felt, which only meant one thing: He had expended his MP.

I twisted upward with a shout and wrapped the Chains of the Combat Ape around his neck. Byron tried to outmaneuver, but I had him beat in spryness. Our positions limited our range of movement, though I retained access to the other weapons that mattered:

My teeth.

HP or not, all humans felt a primitive terror when an enemy chewed down on their ear. Byron was human too, for all his Apathy. He yelped and threw me aside, sliding from my grip.

I shelved the combat chains and attacked instead with The Blackreach Dagger.

Darkness followed.

The next instant saw myself airborne, courtesy of a [Shield Bash] to the face. Blood spurted from my nose. The streaking blood signified the loss of basic protections—and true enough, my health meter emptied with a zing.

Byron’s wicked laughter reached my ears. “Goodnight, elf.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply.

We had inched closer to the pit sometime during our tussle, caught in the throes of murder. The gaping chasm now opened behind me, revealed through dust and smoke.

I scrambled for purchase, but there was nothing to hold. The sleet-covered ground gave way to thin air . . .

I, Damien Njoku, fell into inky darkness.

I fell.