The Verdant Abyss trembled.
The colossal beast stood before him, a living fortress of obsidian bark, its veins pulsating with molten crimson mana. Massive, gnarled limbs loomed over the battlefield like ancient trees, each movement shaking the cavern itself.
Its eyes burned—primal, merciless, locked onto him with the hunger of a predator that had ruled this domain for centuries.
The Verdant Tyrant.
A D-Rank Dungeon Boss, feared for its unyielding strength, rapid regeneration, and dominion over nature itself.
Any sane hunter would retreat.
Any rational fighter would call for reinforcements.
But Alistair Vaelthorne?
He simply tightened his grip on his sword.
A deep, guttural roar tore through the cavern, a sound that made the stone walls quake.
Then—it moved.
Despite its size, the monster was fast.
A massive arm, thick as a castle pillar, came crashing down like an avalanche, shattering the ground beneath it.
But Alistair was already gone.
A flicker—a blur—he reappeared behind the beast in an instant, blade flashing.
A clean strike. Precise. Aimed for the spine.
CLANG!
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air.
The blade barely cut through—only sparks flew.
Its bark-like armor was even stronger than he expected.
The creature twisted, reacting instantly. A massive arm swung toward him, the force behind it enough to pulverize stone.
Alistair dodged—barely.
But the shockwave alone sent him skidding backward, his boots carving trenches into the cavern floor.
His chest heaved, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
His cold black eyes narrowed.
Tough defense. Unnatural strength. High speed.
This fight would take everything he had.
***
The Verdant Tyrant raised both arms, and the entire dungeon responded.
The ground split open.
Vines, thick as iron chains, erupted like serpents, slithering through the air, covered in mana-infused thorns.
They came for him—dozens, then hundreds.
To bind him. To crush him.
He moved.
"Floral Dominion."
A pulse of emerald energy burst from his feet.
In an instant—his own vines shot upward, colliding midair with the beast's, shredding them apart in a violent clash of magic.
But he wasn't done.
He raised his free hand—another spell already forming.
"Flame Burst."
A wave of searing fire erupted from his palm, a roaring inferno that engulfed the incoming vines, reducing them to ash.
The Verdant Tyrant screamed, its regenerative plant magic burning away, its power momentarily weakened.
Alistair exhaled.
He wasn't naturally gifted in fire magic.
But he had trained in it anyway.
Because versatility was power.
***
The Verdant Tyrant charged.
A beast of pure destruction, moving with terrifying speed, its claws poised to tear him apart.
Alistair stepped forward, planting his feet.
He raised his sword.
And then—he activated his family's weapon art.
"Life Force Infusion."
A golden aura surged around him.
Not mana—something deeper.
His own life energy flowed into his blade, its edge humming with raw, devastating power.
Pain flared through his body. His veins screamed in protest.
This technique came at a cost.
Few could wield it.
Even fewer survived using it at full strength.
The Verdant Tyrant lunged—
And he struck.
SLASH!
This time—the blade cut deep.
Carving through the monster's unyielding hide, through layers of armor, through muscle.
A massive gash split across its torso, emerald blood gushing from the wound.
The Tyrant staggered, howling in agony.
But it wasn't finished.
With terrifying fury, it lashed out—
Faster than before.
Alistair barely raised his blade in time—
CRACK!
The impact sent him flying, slamming him into the cavern wall with bone-crushing force.
Pain exploded through his body.
His vision blurred.
For the first time in a long, long time—
He felt the weight of mortality.
But even as his body screamed in agony—
He grinned.
Because something inside him was awakening.
His sword.
It felt… different.
Lighter. Sharper.
As he struggled to his feet, the mana around him shifted.
No longer just Life Force Infusion.
It had become something greater.
Aura.
A power only true swordsmen could unlock.
It was no longer just energy—it was his will. His intent. His very existence extending into his blade.
The Verdant Tyrant roared one last time, preparing to charge—
But Alistair was already moving.
His sword sang through the air, a trail of emerald and gold fire burning in its wake.
And then—
He cut through the beast entirely.
For a moment—
The cavern was silent.
Then—
The Verdant Tyrant stopped mid-charge.
A thin, golden line appeared across its chest.
Then—
Its entire torso split apart.
The dungeon boss let out one last, agonized roar—
Before collapsing into the ground, its massive body reduced to a lifeless husk.
Alistair stood over the corpse.
His sword still glowing faintly.
His breath heavy. His body battered. Blood dripping from his wounds.
But he had won.
The golden aura around his blade slowly faded.
But its presence remained within him.
Aura was proof of his swordsmanship reaching swordmaster rank mastry.
As the Verdant Tyrant's corpse crumbled into dust, the dungeon itself began to collapse.
Its master was dead.
Alistair sheathed his blade. His wounds ached, his body begged for rest.
But his mind remained sharp. Focused. Cold.
Because this victory?
It only proved one thing.
He was still too weak.
And weakness?
Weakness was unforgivable.
With one last look at the battlefield, he turned away—
TO BE CONTINUE...