The fang remained drilled into the serpent's eye, a gruesome reminder of how close death had come. Blackened blood oozed from the wound, pooling beneath the monster's massive head. The cavern was eerily silent, save for the ragged sound of his breathing.
His entire body screamed in agony. His left arm—gone. Blood still poured from the severed limb, coating his torso in a crimson slick. His legs trembled, his vision blurred, and yet he stood. He had no choice but to stand.
The serpent still lived.
The monster's body was slow, its movements sluggish, but it still moved. The crushing weight of its presence filled the cavern, thick and suffocating. Every breath was a struggle, every second an endless battle against his own failing body.
Dash. Stealth. Dash. Stealth.
His body flickered between existence and the shadows, weaving in and out of reach like a phantom. Balancing his movements was hell. Without his left arm, his center of gravity was ruined. Each time he dashed, he barely managed to correct his stance, feeling as if the world itself was tilting.
And still—he attacked.
A relentless assault.
Fists slammed into the serpent's battered body, his knuckles splitting against its hardened scales. His strength was running out, his stamina had long since dried up, but he couldn't stop. Every time the beast tried to strike, he was already gone, appearing at its flank, hammering blow after blow into its wounded flesh.
Blood gushed from its many injuries. The ground beneath them was soaked, the overwhelming stench of iron and death making his stomach churn. The serpent's body spasmed, every strike draining it of what little strength it had left. But it refused to die.
His movements slowed. His lungs burned. His mind screamed for rest.
And yet—he kept attacking.
He had to kill it.
Or it would kill him.
Another strike. A sickening crunch.
And then—nothing.
His fist hovered in midair, waiting for the next counterattack, waiting for the serpent to retaliate. But it didn't.
It wasn't moving.
He staggered back, panting. The monster's head slumped forward, its great coils lying motionless across the cavern floor. Its giant slit-pupil eye remained open, clouded, lifeless.
His chest rose and fell violently, but he did not let his guard down. Not yet.
He took a cautious step forward. Then another. His body was failing, his strength leaving him with each breath, but he had to confirm.
He stood in front of the beast, staring into its unmoving eye.
It was dead.
Somewhere deep in his skull, a distant part of his brain whispered—it had died mid-battle.
He had been fighting a corpse.
A hollow laugh tried to escape his throat, but all that came out was a choked cough. His HP: 20.
He had barely survived.
[System Notification]
[Special Quest Complete]
[Lesser Nethrite Serpent Killed]
[Reward: Nethrite Dagger]
[900 XP Gained]
[Level Up!]
Another notification followed.
[Stat Page Updated]
HP: 20/985
Stamina: 03/670
Strength: 89
Agility: 91
Endurance: 88
Perception: 48
Vitality: 55
Dexterity: 51
Intellect: 96
Soul Points: 200
Mana: —
Luck: 20
Pain Resistance: Lv 5
Every stat had improved—except Luck.
But he had won.
Right?
His knees buckled. His vision swam.
No.
No.
His fingers curled into a fist, the only thing keeping him tethered to consciousness. If he fell, he wouldn't get back up. He knew it.
His head pounded, pain hammering against his skull like a war drum. His body wanted to shut down. His lungs were on fire. His veins screamed for oxygen, his mind begged for rest, but he refused.
A cold, creeping dread slithered into his thoughts.
If I lose consciousness now… I might not wake up again.
The blood loss. The exhaustion. The sheer damage his body had taken. It was too much. If he let go—if he gave in—he might die before he even realized it.
He forced himself upright, leaning against the serpent's massive corpse. The warmth of its body was already fading, the coldness of death creeping over its scales.
His heartbeat was uneven. Every beat felt like it might be the last.
He clenched his fist tighter.
"No."
"Not like this."
He bit his tongue, the pain jolting him awake. His eyes flickered open, defiance burning in their depths. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to breathe, to stay grounded.
He would not die here.
His body begged for rest. His mind screamed for sleep. But his will refused to break.
With one last breath, he pushed himself forward, stepping away from the corpse.
The battle was over.
But the fight to stay alive had just begun.