A few days had passed, and Stark was now fighting three Stilos at once. He had grown accustomed to their attack patterns. His footwork was quicker, and his reflexes were sharper. His swordplay had improved drastically, thanks to the constant battles.
Krul had decided to increase the difficulty, and at first, Stark struggled. Attacks from blind spots had left him vulnerable.
Slowly but surely. He adapted.
Today was different. For the first time, he faced three Stilos at once, all larger than the first one. They were faster, deadlier.
The first Stilo charged at him without hesitation.
Stark leapt onto its back, but the beast bucked violently, trying to throw him off. He sprang off just in time, but the second Stilo was already releasing a breath of fire.
“Fuck...” he cursed, diving backward to avoid the flames.
The third Stilo charged at him next. Stark dropped his shoulder and used his sword to deflect off the edge of its hard head, using the momentum to flip away into a corner.
Now, Stark was surrounded. Behind him was the isolation wall by Krul and Ahead were the three beasts. Their eyes locked on him, closing in.
His eyes darted back and forth, searching for an opening.
There.
He lunged toward the gap between the two of them, but they shifted to block him. Stark didn’t hesitate. He sharply pivoted to the other side, slipping past them and escaping the cornered situation.
The larger Stilos were deadly, but their size came with a disadvantage: gaps. Unlike the smaller ones, their hard shell and fur didn’t extend past their knees.
The three beasts turned toward him. By then, Stark was already charging at the Stilo furthest away. He weaved to the side and swung his blade beneath its knee, slicing through the flesh, leaving a deep gash. Blood sprayed and the Stilo screeched in agony.
Stark quickly dashed to the wounded beast’s back. He noticed the other two preparing to unleash their flames.
The flames hit the injured Stilo in the face, making it screech louder, shaking its head in panic.
Blinded by the fire, the wounded Stilo charged at the nearest Stilo. Its front legs lifted from the impact, exposing its underbelly.
Now.
Without hesitation, Stark dashed forward. Using the front legs of the injured Stilo as leverage, he leapt onto its head, then launched himself toward the second beast, sword raised high.
His blade descended in a deadly arc, cutting from the top to the middle of its belly.
The Stilo screeched before collapsing onto its back, blood and organs spilling through the deep gash. It squirmed briefly, then went limp.
The injured Stilo, still in panic, was a blur in Stark's vision.
Not now, he thought, his eyes fixed on the other beast.
The third Stilo was preparing to charge. Stark’s lips curled into a smile. He took a step back, drawing the beast’s attention.
As the Stilo was about to charge, Stark dashed toward the wounded one. The focused Stilo, who followed him blind with fury, charged and rammed its hard head into the injured Stilo's side.
Stark pivoted on his heel, dodging as the wounded Stilo flipped through the air, landing heavily on its back, sending a spray of sand into the air.
Nice. That’s how you beasts should behave.
He turned around and sprinted toward the fallen Stilo. Climbing onto its exposed belly, he slashed at it mercilessly, each strike spraying blood in every direction.
As the dust began to settle, a torrent of flames cut through the haze. Stark ducked low, barely dodging the fire. The flames grazed his arms, leaving stinging red burns.
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Two down. One to go. Stark swiftly descended from the fallen beast’s body, his focus now entirely on the last Stilo.
Stark gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the needle-like burning sensation coursing through his body. From a distance, he studied the Stilo, waiting for the right moment to strike. Taking a step forward, he taunted the beast to make the first move.
As he moved into its range, the Stilo's gaze locked onto him
The moment it began to open its mouth, Stark dashed to the side, weaving unpredictable. He closed in and slid beneath the gap between its legs, he slashed open its hind legs swiftly and precisely, cutting below the knees. .
It can’t charge now.
Anticipating its next move, Stark darted from side to side and slashed at Stilo’s legs. Each strike left deep gashes below the knees, weakening the beast further. The Stilo screeched in pain, its thrashing flinging loose sand into the air.
Preparing to unleash its fiery breath, the Stilo reared back. Stark ran straight toward it
The beast was seeing red. The air grew unbearably hot as the flames roared toward him.
With a sharp pivot, Stark evaded the attack and drove his sword into the flesh of the Stilo’s open mouth.
The beast cried out in agony, but this time it clamped its jaws down, tightening its flesh around the blade.
Damn it… this beast—
The sword was stuck. The air grew oppressive as the Stilo prepared to unleash another torrent of flames.
No… I won’t—
“YOU DAMNED BEAST!” Stark roared, channeling every ounce of strength into driving the stuck sword down.
The flames erupted, scorching the sands and filling the air with a hissing roar. But Stark had already torn the Stilo's mouth apart, the flesh splitting as he fell to the ground, narrowly escaping the searing attack.
Above him, the Stilo's mouth hung open, blood pouring down onto him. The heat still radiated from the beast.
Wasting no time, Stark thrust his sword upward into the roof of the Stilo’s gaping mouth. The blade pierced through the tender flesh, driving into its eyes and deep into its brain.
With a guttural screech, the Stilo thrashed violently, but it was too late. Its brain was damaged, and blood gushed from its wounds. The beast staggered before collapsing to the ground, its body going limp and lifeless.
Stark had won the battle—entirely on his own.
“Splendid, child,” Krul remarked, descending gracefully from the sky.
A golden glow enveloped Stark, swiftly mending his burns and wounds from the battle. The beast’s blood evaporated from his skin, leaving him clean once more
Stark took a deep breath. He felt stronger than the day before—a small but satisfying improvement. Still, it wasn’t enough. He was nowhere near the level of the Squire or the Elder Bone-eater.
To survive, strength was essential.
“How does it feel to defeat one of the weakest beasts in the Great Sands?” Krul asked with a smug expression.
“Oh….It feels like crap.”
“Oh? Does it?” Krul studied him, intrigued.
He’s a natural warrior, Krul thought. Adapting to different situations within days of starting his training.
“And why do you feel that way?”
“I don’t know... it feels like my sword is weak,” Stark admitted.
“It is weak, child,” Krul explained. “I am no sword master—I cannot teach you the way of the sword. I am a magus.”
With a snap of his fingers, he broke the isolation barrier. Faint glowing particles dissipated into the air.
“Today’s training is done. From now on, you will be in charge of hunting for food.”
“Huh?”
“Hunt Stilos and bring them to the cave,” Krul said with a sly smile. “It will be excellent training.”
As Krul and Stark turned to leave, another beast appeared before them. It was a slender, bipedal creature with rock-textured skin and spikes running along its back. Hollow sockets clung to its squared face, and at the center of its chest was a gaping hole. Wooden tendrils jutted from the cavity, curling protectively over its chest.
“Get behind me,” Krul ordered, his voice cold and firm.
Stark sensed something was wrong and quickly obeyed.
The beast tilted its head a full 180 degrees, a sinister grin spreading across its unnatural face.
Then it vanished.
Stark’s eyes darted frantically from side to side, searching for the beast.
Krul raised his left palm, and a blue aura enveloped his hand, forming a circular barrier around them.
An ear-splitting explosion rocked the desert as sand erupted into the air. The beast’s punch slammed against the barrier, sending shock waves rippling outward. It had aimed directly at Stark.
The sudden impact startled Stark, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground.
Krul turned his cold gaze toward the beast.
The creature began pummeling the barrier with relentless force, each strike shaking the earth beneath them. Stark could feel the raw, overwhelming power from within the barrier.
Krul clicked his tongue in irritation. “You filthy corrupted being,” he spat in contempt
Just as the beast raised its hand for another punch, Krul lowered the barrier and extended his other palm. A violet beam shot out, striking the creature in the gut. The impact sent it flying like a rag doll, crashing into a massive dune and leveling it completely.
What the hell is that creature? Stark thought, his heart racing.
Before he could process what had happened, the beast reappeared in front of Krul.
“Annoying,” Krul muttered, blocking its punch with the barrier once again. His cold gaze swept over the beast, noting the chipped fragments of its rocky skin where the beam had struck.
The creature leaped back, and Krul allowed the barrier to disperse.
In a flash, he carved a glyph into the air—so fast that Stark didn’t catch the movement.
“Begone, corrupted soul,”
The beast’s head exploded instantly. No blood spilled; only fragments of rocky skin flew into the sky before raining down like shards of glass. Its lifeless body collapsed to the ground, unmoving.