Adama was reconsidering his decision to challenge the horde alone, to put things lightly.
The violet eyed monsters moved with a coordination that far surpassed that of their normal counterparts. Fatal blows were blocked by other monsters swooping in at the last moment, and counterattacks were often initiated by multiple monsters at once moving in perfect sync. If it weren’t for his constant training and consummate skill, Adama would have been shredded to pieces in the first few seconds. Even with his abilities, he would have gone down quickly if it weren’t for his trump card:
“Endless Sword!”
There was only so much that coordination could do against magic like his. His Magic stat had increased so much that even Wyverns and Minotaurs were cut to pieces by his best attack. If it weren’t for his need to chant, he would have cut through all these nuisances already. As it was, they had created an uneasy equilibrium. Adama would fight to survive until he could let loose another Endless Sword and thin their numbers. They would try to run him down, appearing from all angles and from every passageway, but he always managed to slip through their net. They hounded him relentlessly, never giving him room to breathe, until he finished an Endless Sword. They would try to back off at the last second, but the Sage wouldn’t let them, and his magic would always slaughter at least a half dozen of their elites, wounding a dozen more. Within the few moments of peace he could buy himself with his magic, he would take a swig from one of the potions in his belt. After that, it was back to the chase.
Like this, Adama decimated the ranks of their lower-level fighters, and he destroyed numerous elites as well. They seemed endless, constantly rejuvenated by forces from the lower floors, but Adama knew they couldn’t be unlimited. Furthermore, it wasn't as though he was obligated to kill them all. Tim would distract them with this cat-and-mouse game for an hour or two, giving his students time to retreat, before cutting his way out of here. Even though he was constantly embattled, Adama was in perfect control of the situation.
Until his back exploded in pain.
He sensed the attack at the last second and moved to dodge, but the swordsman still felt claws shred through his cloak and into his coat. They left a few shallow yet painful scratches, causing him to whirl around and counterattack. The white blur that had hit him leapt out of the way before his counter could find purchase, and before his eyes Adama witnessed his attacker vanish. It wasn’t a matter of speed, as if it had somehow run away. The monster literally disappeared just as he got a good look at it. It appeared to be an Irregular Ligerfang, fur colored a milky white rather than a normal deep blue, its' eyes glowing a slightly deeper amethyst than any of the other monsters. He was forced to block another strike from a different enemy, but now his rhythm was thrown off.
It took a few more moments to gain control of the situation, but a few moments after that the hidden creature struck again. This time, it tore some gashes in his left arm, jumping away once again when Tim tried to punish it. These hit-and-run tactics caused Adama a good deal of consternation. He still managed to create openings to heal, even as he battled the legion and its ivory assassin. But he was loosing a lot of blood and his healing was struggling to replace it. Also, the holes in his armor couldn’t be repaired in combat, meaning that he was now more vulnerable to the fire being spewed by the Hellhounds and Wyverns. The Dungeon’s caverns were chock-full of smoke and heat from their regular fiery attacks, and Tim could feel his exposed flesh sizzling. The underground prison had become a vision of hell itself, and Adama knew that there would be no easy retreat. The Tiger King wouldn’t let him.
It wasn’t all bad. Adama was pretty sure that this cat was the leader of this merry band of enemies, and he suspected that if he could put the fiend down then they would disperse. Or at least lose their discipline. His mind worked furiously on how to do just that as he ducked an overhead swing from a Minotaur, his blade flashing out in a quick counter. He pierced the creature’s magic stone before any of its friends could interfere, forcing the monster to disintegrate where it stood. The fact that the monsters had such obvious weak spots was the only thing keeping Adama alive. He had grown rather good at targeting and destroying each enemy in one hit, allowing him to conserve his energy to the maximum extent possible. He was constantly regenerating Mind thanks to his Spirit Healing, and the danger of his situation strengthened that regeneration further thanks to his skill.
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Still, Adama was flagging. His potion stock was running thin, and the waves of monsters showed no end in sight. He was pushing his mind and body to their limits as he traversed the 15th floor at breakneck speed, always watching for any further sneak attacks while stringing the pack of creatures along. At one point, he ran past a duo of fellow adventurers, but Adama barely had time to recognize his compatriots before the mob slammed into them and dashed them to pieces. At that point, he realized that he was truly in trouble.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a basso roar echoed out across the battlefield. Adama turned to address the threat, but he barely had the time to get his blade up in defense before a large black shape crashed into him. The force of the hit sent Adama shooting into one of the adjoining rooms, and he was forced to examine the threat even as he was midair. It was a black Wyvern, another Irregular by the looks of it, and its eyes flickered from red to purple and back again at the speed of thought. The creature seemed to vacillate between bestial and machinelike even in the milliseconds that Adama registered it, but both minds were united in a plan for a follow up that initial attack. It opened its mouth wide and let loose a torrent of liquid crimson flame at the flying adventurer. That would fry him alive thanks to the tattered state of his coat, so Adama quickly took evasive action. Digging Hearthblade into the ground, he used it as a lever to launch himself to the side. He dug his feet into the earth, halting his fight, and raised his sword as the Wyvern scrabbled into the room and veered to face him. Then the fight began in earnest.
The creature charged Adama, flaming breath kindling in its throat as it ran down the swordsman. He responded with some predictive non-verbal Rippling Swords. It dodged to the left and let loose its lethal breath. Adama was already in midair, the river of fire passing harmlessly beneath him as he jumped backward and upward. The monster brought its maw up to try to track him with its breath, but Adama had already countered with a full powered Rippling Sword. It clamped its mouth shut to avoid critical damage, but the attack still opened up a large gash on the creature’s nose. While he was in midair, one of the Minotaurs rushed into the room and threw a sword-shaped rock at him. Without even looking, Adama reached out with his left hand, grabbed the weapon mid-flight, and redirected it toward the Wyvern on the ground. The creature dodged to the right again, directly into a Rippling Sword that Adama had launched just after redirecting the missile. It flinched at the last second, but his magic still managed to carve out its right eye.
The one-eyed creature snarled in pain, but it flapped its wings and counterattacked admirably. It launched itself toward Adama, opening its jaws and biting down hard on the airborne adventurer in a quick and savage motion. Except it didn’t. At the last second, Adama shifted midair and kicked off the wall behind him, streaking in the opposite direction as the monster's jaws closed on nothing. He twisted again to face the beast as it passed through where he'd been, sword flashing out with more non-verbal Rippling Swords. Once, twice, thrice, and the webbing of the beast's right wing was torn to bits. He wasn’t the only one who could maneuver midair, however, and the sky was still the Wyvern’s domain. It did a bit of twisting of its own, and soon it clung to the side of the wall, head turning to face him. It belched out another stream of fire, and this time Adama had nowhere to go. He only managed to get the remnants of his cloak between him and the inferno before it crashed over him.
The center of the firestorm was a horrific thing. Adama’s exposed flesh blackened, and his closed eyes boiled as the flames washed over him in a cascade of agony. His vision turned white, then black, and he felt himself starting to lose focus and fade away. For one horrifying moment, Adama teetered on the tightrope of life and death, swaying at the edge of the abyss. Then, though a steely combination of training and sheer, indomitable will, he snapped out of it. The torture ended as the fire breath petered out and Adama landed on the floor again. His was a charred, pockmarked, and mangled figure. But when he opened his eyes once more, they glowed with emerald focus.
The Sage took off towards the dragon, seizing the initiative for himself this time. Some of the weaker enemies had trickled into the room and they moved to stop him, but his sword flickered outward, and they were in pieces. In the blink of an eye, Adama cut through the obstacles between him and his Enemy in a spinning wheel of death and destruction. The Wyvern unleashed another river of death, but the Sage was having none of it. He dodged to his left and raced up the side of the wall, boots digging aggressively into the stone as if it were soft mud. The Wyvern shifted in its perch to meet him directly, twisting its neck to keep him in the view of its one good eye. It had no idea how predictable it was. It raised a claw to smash him down, but Adama turned it aside with masterly grace and slipped inside the beast’s guard. In another flash of white, the fight was over.
Adama smoothly decapitated the beast, then jumped away from its corpse. In midair again, a blackened hand rifled hastily within his fireproof potion belt and extracted another bottle. The substance within glistened a vibrant, golden white. With the last of his strength, he popped the cork and downed the liquid.
Immediately, he felt his suffering abate. His whole body was propped up by a surge of energy, and the pain lessened at a literally breathtaking pace. Healthy flesh grew to replace the charred stuff and Adama allowed himself a small sigh of relief. By the time he hit the ground again, his most grievous wounds had been healed and his minor ones were well on their way. Even his hair was growing back, and he felt nearly good as new as he stared down the remaining enemies from the center of the room. He stared them down and they stared back, but neither side moved. Adama was surprised as he watched the monsters glower at him, yet refrain from assaulting him. His eyes flickered to the right, then to the left, wary of a sneak attack. The Tiger was still out there, and it was more fearsome than the Dragon. After a few breaths of this standoff, something strange happened. A deep, growling voice boomed out from the inside of his head.
“Well done, adventurer. You are a worthy opponent indeed.”