Auren had already mapped out the entire area in his mind, but certain paths were off-limits. Charging forward blindly would mean facing more than one Hollow Screamer at the same time—a risk he couldn't afford.
His Defeat in Detail strategy had a strict time limit. There was only so much he could do to deceive the senses of these ravenous abominations, and that window was closing fast.
He could already sense them regrouping—not because they had the intelligence to navigate the jagged rock formations, but because hunger drove them.
And with his flesh and soul as their singular motivation, their paths inevitably aligned.
It was like that old saying about jogging and success:
You don't go jogging with companions—they may get tired. Instead, you find those already heading toward the same destination. That destination is success.
Philosophers were strange, but Auren found them intriguing. It was a pity that the most influential ones were labeled heretics and exiled to the danger zones—where surviving was a fate worse than death. There, it was better to kill yourself than to dare endure. Death was mercy in that place.
'What the hell am I thinking about in the middle of a battle?!'
He snapped back to reality, instincts warning him—he was close to another Hollow Screamer. According to his calculations and what he felt through the intangible body of the night, it was just ahead.
Auren brandished his sword, lunging forward in a precise strike.
But instead of cleaving through flesh, the sacred blade bounced off—the impact sent a jarring vibration up his arm, nearly wrenching the weapon from his grasp. His fingers almost unfurled from the hilt.
He staggered back, barely regaining balance, his gaze locking onto the creature before him.
A dark frown settled over his face.
He had made a terrible mistake.
It was still a Hollow Screamer—at least in shape. But this one was bigger. Its skin was denser, rippling with reptilian scales that ran across its back like polished black metal. Along its spine, jagged blades protruded in a cruel formation.
That was where his sword had struck.
And that was why it had failed.
His luck had run out.
It seemed… he had crossed paths with a Major Tainted.
Auren cursed, gritting his teeth as he tightened his grip on the sword. Pain lanced through his fingers, up his forearm—sharp, searing, relentless.
But strangely enough, he could endure it. As long as he didn't dwell on it too much.
Some strains, however, were different. Those dug deeper, worsening the agony—those weren't so easy to ignore.
The creature's body and eyes blended seamlessly with the darkness, almost impossible to detect. Had Auren not calculated their likely paths from his vantage on the rock earlier, he wouldn't have known where to expect them.
But in the urgency of the moment, he had failed to register an anomaly among them.
A mistake.
And now, he was in deep soup because of it.
'I don't like soups. But I have to own up to my mistake somehow…'
For a fleeting moment, he considered death.
Then, he stomped that thought down and buried it beneath the dirt of thoughtlessness.
Death was not something to be taken lightly.
He still didn't know the exact limit—how many times he could die before dying for real.
So recklessness was out of the question.
Running wasn't an option either. Sooner or later, he'd be cornered from behind.
His fingers tightened further around the hilt.
'I've dealt with worse… I can do this.'
He steadied his grip, raising the holy sword with both hands, his gaze sharpening with demented focus.
If he could kill a Major Blighted, then he could kill a Major Tainted too.
That was going to be his motivation—until he slew something even stronger.
With that thought, Auren shot forward, his steps measured, his movement weaving through the night wind.
But he was too slow.
The abomination's powerful tail lashed out—he barely saw it before it slammed into him.
For a fraction of a second, his entire body turned metallic.
But the difference was night and day. His metal skin paled in comparison to the monster's reinforced hide—polished steel-like scales built for war.
The impact sent a jagged web of cracks tearing through his metallic skin from the side.
His body followed suit.
He hurtled into the rocks, stone splitting on impact. Then, he bounced off, the force sending him sprawling.
His vision dimmed—his head throbbed with a splitting ache.
But he was still breathing.
Staggering to his feet, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight. But it was taking too long—something warm was trickling into his right eye, blurring his vision even further.
Then, without warning, a wide weapon split the air—mere inches from his face.
He barely dodged.
A sharp sting burned across his cheek, a shallow wound opening even as his skin instinctively turned metallic for an instant.
Auren had dodged that attack—not by sight, but the vague perception from the darkness itself.
It was something he couldn't quite explain.
Right now, relying on his vision was a chore. His right eye was blurred, his head throbbing. So what if he abandoned sight entirely? What if he relied solely on this strange perception instead?
Auren shut his eyes tightly. His grip on the sword hardened, knuckles paling. Then, he lowered the blade slightly—to allow himself fluid movement, now that he wasn't dependent on sight.
And it worked.
'There!'
He shifted to the side, twisting his body just as his arms snapped outward—his sword clashed against the descending weapon, the impact ringing painfully up his arms.
Immediately, he sensed another strike and pivoted sharply, evading while angling his blade—deflecting in case the weapon was still hurtling toward him.
Each movement felt sharper, clearer.
Relying on this darkness-borne perception, he was beginning to understand it.
But there was no time to dwell on that now.
He could feel the creature in front of him—not fully, not vaguely, but somewhere in between. A flickering awareness, like shadows shifting against the edges of his mind.
The Cursed Creature was in no hurry. It took its time, pacing forward with deliberate, measured steps.
It knew.
It understood the advantage it held over him.
Major Curses were on a different level of corruption given form.
Auren gritted his teeth. He needed to act. And he needed to act fast.
Death loomed like a whisper at the back of his mind.
But he refused to let it be the answer.
Not this time.
Not again.
He knew that to retain his sanity, he couldn't treat death as a solution. He had to fight his mind to keep himself from slipping into the same cycle of buried thoughts.
The abomination savored his helplessness, prowling toward him, massive and unhurried.
Auren stepped back slowly, muscles coiled tight, senses stretched thin.
'Dying really is the only way, huh…'
And then—
Something moved in the darkness.
Not the creature. But behind it.
Auren's breath quaked.
It wasn't another Cursed Creature. It was something like him.
Something human...