Chapter 121

A deafening roar pierced Michael’s ears before the monster swiped down with a gigantic claw made of ice. Michael defended himself with his body, deflecting the limb away from the sitting form of Old Dave, who was meditating in the center of the room.

It was hard to pin down the monster’s exact shape: it was made of countless limbs and appendages of ice, protrusions and spikes covered its body, and its sleek surface was translucent and reflective, scattering the light in all directions like wet ice. It moved with surprising agility, contorting beyond what mere ice should be capable of with fast, nimble movements. Occasionally, the sound of grinding ice and shattering surfaces could be heard, but the damage never lasted long.

Michael was on the back foot. He couldn’t use any external magic, not even active Aura manipulation, to deal with the monster for fear of the room’s magic vortex going haywire again. Meanwhile, the monster had no such restrictions, caring only to destroy the trespassers who had dared bother it in its lair. Every time it prepared a magic attack, Michael had to rush in and stop it before it could be unleashed, accumulating wounds all over his body.

Thankfully, his passive regeneration ability didn’t agitate the room’s magic vortex. Along with it, Michael also reinstated [Body Enhancement 2] and [Fast Reflexes 7] as regular skills so that he could use them during the fight.

The room shook with every blow. The ice shattered, scattering on the floor where it mixed with Michael’s blood. Michael led the monster around in circles, drawing its attention away from Old Dave, but he had to continuously take hits as he did so. Tanking the powerful blows was necessary if he wanted to make sure that the monster was focused on him and not on Dave. Every time he got too far, the monster’s focus would shift back to Dave, and it would charge at him with the intention of killing him.

It was like the room itself wanted Old Dave dead.

At the center of it all, Old Dave was understanding the intricacies of what it meant to tier-up to True Silver. Suddenly, his eyes shot open. “Michael,” he exclaimed, “I think I understand now. Keep defending me!”

Michael was about to retort when he saw the old man close his eyes again and return to his meditation. He sat back down at the center of the room, in the metaphorical eye of the storm, as if uncaring about the danger.

Does he trust me that much? Michael wondered.

The monster roared. It had never stopped attacking, forcing Michael on the back foot again and again.

Hours passed with him leading it around the room, but the space was cramped, and he was limited to using only his body. Wounds accumulated, and while they vanished almost as quickly as they came, Michael was on the losing end of each exchange. His internal reserves of energy were dwindling, flesh and tissues being used to fuel the healing, and he was feeling his body begin to weaken. At the same time, not even at peak condition could he do much more than scratch the monster when limited to physical attacks.

It might be different if he had a weapon, but he didn’t. Even trying to form one out of ice was enough to send the magic of the room into a frenzy. Whenever it happened, Old Dave would grunt in pain, becoming the sole target of the evil will of the room itself.

Suddenly, all the magic stilled. Michael’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the monster begin to glow, icy veins pulsing beneath its frozen skin. The magic was utterly still for two more seconds before it erupted, trying to grind them to dust with raw Qi attacks.

At the center, Old Dave coughed blood, but he didn’t open his eyes even as his body folded in pain. Michael leapt at the monster, diverting its attention again, but the magic didn’t die down this time. With a roar, the monster unleashed a devastating breath attack, which only added to the danger of the room. Michael tried to use his aura, but the moment he did, he felt the magic of the room grow even wilder, beyond what even he could handle.

He dismissed his own magic, dissipating his aura as much as he could. Defenseless, with only the strength of his own body, he leapt to intercept the attack before it could kill Dave.

It hit him in a wave of frost so cold that it burned his skin instantly. Millions of razor-sharp pieces of ice sliced his skin, turning his clothes to tatters and opening wounds on his body. The cold permeated deep into his flesh, turning it into ice that flaked off and shattered.

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His healing kicked in immediately, drawing more mana and Qi from his reserves than ever before. He increased it even more with [Magic Manipulation], trying to leech some energy from the attack and from the room itself to heal his body. As he did so, his knowledge of Qi deepened, but soon his attention was pulled back to his body.

He was weakening. Without nutrients and energy, his healing skill was trying to convert raw magic into fuel, but it was too slow. With only the passive effect, it couldn’t keep up. The breath attack had overcome all of Michael’s flimsy passive defenses and was freezing him to the core.

He braced, trying not to get knocked away, shielding his mentor with his body until he felt his legs give way, and even then, he roared and pushed his body beyond its limits. Luckily, the attack ended before he had to resort to such tactics.

Then the monster charged. It ignored Michael altogether, as if it no longer saw him as a threat, running straight toward the still-sitting form of Dave. Michael gave chase, pulling the monster towards him, pushing [Body Strengthening] to its limits. He blocked a savage strike with his arm, feeling the bone shatter and then set itself back together moments later. It happened again when the next strike hit him, then again. Michael was like a cockroach, constantly reforming under the monster’s onslaught.

The monster roared in rage, now once again focused on Michael. It clawed at him, slicing away chunks of flesh and shattering bone. The pain was almost enough to make even Michael lose focus, but even more worrying was that his regeneration wasn’t keeping up. The monster’s icy claws were now grinding unprotected bone, the attacks not giving his skill time to regenerate the flesh. The bone chipped and broke under the immense impacts, then regenerated anew.

As long as he protected his face, Michael felt that he would survive. As long as an attack didn’t kill him outright, he would live. His mana hadn’t yet dipped below half, this deep in the glacier where magic was most dense.

Then, with a horizontal motion, the monster shattered what flimsy confidence Michael still had. It wrenched Michael’s arm right out of its socket, pulling away bone, connective tissue, and muscle. Michael protected his face with his other hand, but a few blows later, it was only a ruined mass of pulsing flesh, useless.

Michael cranked [Fast Reflexes] to the max. He watched a claw descend towards his face in slow motion. He could protect himself with magic, but if he did, Old Dave would die. If he didn’t, he would die.

With a sigh, he made a decision. It was like the whole room had descended into silence. It was as if his ears weren’t ringing anymore, and the rush of blood after hours of battle had disappeared. He let his tight control over his own aura loosen. The room exploded with magic, but to his ears, it was still muffled silence. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Old Dave die. But he didn’t want to die himself either. If he died, Dave would die soon after.

He got up.

Or rather, he tried.

It dawned on him that the Qi of the room was penetrating his aura. It was faint, but in his state, it was more than enough to pin him down. He tried to let the aura drop, so that the room would quiet down again, but found that he couldn’t. The Qi was latching onto his aura, pulling it taut like a tense string, preventing Michael from retracting its power. Yet it was also making it through, damaging Michael’s body even further.

Calling forth any other magic was useless. The damage was too extensive.

The claw descended ever so slowly. More so than it should, even with [Fast Reflexes]. Michael’s brain, in what it thought were its last moments, was stretching its cognition to the limit, transforming each instant into an eternity. Adrenaline mixed with the power of magic already speeding up Michael’s perception, through the mental statistics born of the [Unity] skill, and Michael’s own stubborn refusal to die.

[Fast Reflexes] reaches level 8.

[Fast Reflexes] reaches level 9.

It wasn’t enough to do anything except watch death in much more vivid detail. Michael could make out every inch of the ice claw, every imperfection within it, every nuance in its flow of magic. Yet, in his state, he could do nothing about it.

Michael remembered well the last time he saw his own death with such clarity. It had been back at the beginning of his dungeon runs, against the goblins. Back then, it had been a struggle of life and death, day after day.

When had it all changed? Looking at this moment now, it was all wrong. This wasn't the culmination of a life-and-death struggle. This was him paying for a mistake. For a wrong calculation. He had toyed with the monster, thinking he could afford to do so, and now he was paying the price for his overconfidence.

After being humbled by the Renegade, he had thought his growing arrogance had been somewhat quelled. Instead, his arrogance hadn’t let him see that he was only fooling himself.

He had waited too long. He thought he could defend David and himself. Instead, they were both going to die.

Michael didn’t even have the strength to get up. With one arm missing and the other reduced to a pulp, and his aura flickering like a candle in a hailstorm, he watched his death descend upon him. The claws glimmered in the cyan light of the ice. The monster’s face was a mismatch of razor-sharp ice. Even now, its eyes were not set on Michael, but on Old Dave.

Michael didn’t close his eyes. Even in death, he refused to go out without a fight. Yet, fight he could not.