She jumped back, just quick enough to miss the swing of a blade reaching for her eyes. Her own hand shot out for the center of mass, quick and deadly, and the feeling of her spear digging deep into something hard rushed through her. Armour, most likely.

Her left knee shook with a violent impact a breath later, sending her stumbling back as pain erupted from her leg. With a wince and a start, she threw up her weapon just in time to defend against a cleaving downward hit, sending a trembling ache down her arm.

'Fucking hell,' she groaned in body and mind, 'This guy's something alright.'

She pumped metal-white Force Aura into her legs, cold strength flaring from her lower body as she threw away her attacker with a forceful push and hurriedly rose up again, proud and tall. She grasped her spear with both hands, not daring to take her attacker lightly.

And as she finally set her eyes on the culprit properly, her face twisted with confusion. A complete set of plate armour was standing upright in front of her. Reeling from their standoff, yes, but still standing.

There wasn't anyone inside.

'What the hell?'

No matter how impossible it may have been, she couldn't deny it — the armour looked empty. The gaps were a bit bigger than should've been possible if it was fitted around a living body, and though they were much too impossibly dark to peer into, she couldn't see even a hint of flesh or cloth peeking out anywhere.

To be more descriptive, it was a complete set of plated grey armour, decorated with engravings shaped into gilded laurels, though they looked rusted after being bathed in blood and left to dry. It's right arm was covered in thick, sinuous roots and branches with dark foliage, like a bizarre prosthetic, while it's left gauntlet carried a rusty halberd stained with old, rusty dried blood. The halberd it wielded was a long wooden hilt wrapped in worn leather, the once sharp ivory blade looking blind and dull as it showed noticeable signs of decay.

The helmet had its visor down, but a cold blue light blazed ferociously from behind the numerous holes of its gladiator-style helmet. That light burned without any apparent fuel or bearer, clearly magical in nature if Misha had to wager.

Deep sea-blue tumor-flowers with barbed petals grew over the amour's frame, beating like hearts as they slipped between the crevices and interlaced with each other through thorned black vines, digging deep and parasitic into the forged iron. One in particular looked particularly healthy and in full bloom, fused into the headpiece itself and adorned with spilled blood.

It looked quite more like ceremonial armour than actual gear worn for battle, but she knew it was more than that. 'Just how many people did it kill?' Her eyes briefly flickered around, taking in all the bloodshed once more. 'Was it involved in this?'

Even as she analyzed its weirdly regal frame, the seconds ticked on endlessly.

The thing spasmed and twitched, but instead of rushing forward it kept it's ground, as if examining her under a new light as well. She tightened her grip on her spear and focused strength on her legs, but before she could perform a preemptive strike, the tension was broken.

An ear-piercing wail like the screeching of iron against iron pierced her ears, crashing into her point-blank as the living armour charged forward like a wild beast. It jerked around violently, limbs flying around like a puppet on strings as it ran.

Misha shuddered, a vile weight like a hundred chains pressing down on her body and catching her off-guard. She staggered, suddenly weak and soft, but with an instinctive burst of silver-cold Aura the muddy weight was thrown off her shoulders.

She reacted to the rushing halberd at exactly the right moment.

The rusted, chipped blade flew past her as she ducked forward and lunging towards it, her heavy spear chopping horizontally with a flick of her wrist and biting venomously into its chestplate. The piece of iron — carved with the façade of a two-headed woodpecker with trailing tails like strings, she now saw — received a large, jagged wound across it, but didn't quite break or dent like she'd expected.

It didn't even seem that deep either, just wide.

'Not only strong, but also resilient,' she thought, 'How annoying.'

She rolled back on the balls of her feet and planted a kick straight into the "wound", putting distance between them and rolling back to dodge a vertical slash that would've gutted her, and then another that would've decapitated her from the creature as it swung wildly.

Misha jumped back onto her feet and wielded her spear diagonally to block a strike, then swung the blunt lower end of her spear into crashing against the armour's helmet, throwing the thing off-balance to the side. It staggered before its entire upper torso rotated completely independently from its legs to face her again, halberd rushing from the left in a whirlwind of bloody wrought iron.

'This fucking beyblade—"

She leaned back, the blade slicing her steel chestplate and leaving a long trail. "You don't leave any hit unpunished, huh?" Misha grit her teeth into a grim, forced smile, getting her footing back as the living armour's body realigned awkwardly.

One of it's arms suddenly shot out like a whip, cleaving the floor beneath her feet as she dexterously jumped over the slash. Memories of turbid, bloody clouds filled her mind, and with a short exhale she put her whole body behind her counterattack, momentum travelling from her hips to her shoulder as her heavy spear shot out like a hungry snake.

Her powerful blow rang out like a thunderclap, piercing the overgrown tree-arm it had thrown in the way to block her attack even as the living amour reeled and bent back. Her spear impaled the arm and stabbed through it to dig into the breastplate, but the impact had been lessened, and now it was stuck.

'Shit.'

When her feet touched the ground the world seemed to slow; if she wanted to stay safe she had to let go of the spear, but oh Christ did she not want that. Her eyes shot between the thing and her spear, the creature's halberd arm twitching ominously. Her hand wrapped possessively around the wooden shaft, not knowing whether to keep holding on or to let go.

Jaw clenched, she released her fingers from the leather-wrapped pole of her weapon and retreated, and it proved to be a good choice as the halberd swung just so, digging into the bridge of her nose and cutting some loose strands of her hair. The creature's other arm swung out to wrench the spearhead from it's chest just then, it's claws — sharp, bloody, and outstretched — continuing their arc towards her face, spear still half-buried its forearm, and nicking her ears even as she dodged again to the side.

Misha winced as warmth ran down the side and middle of her face, a small piece of flesh dangling off her aggressor's claws as her nose clogged with blood. She lowered herself and braced for more attacks, but they halted as the thing convulsed and twitched strangely. The roots on the right arm were possessively wrapping around the shaft of her spear, decisively holding on.

Her brow furrowed, voice slightly nasal with blood. "That's my spear you have there."

 

One of it's legs unexpectedly struck forward, hitting her impromptu guard as she sunk into it. She felt her bones creak under the weight, but with another pulse of Force Aura she threw it off and drew her spear against it's dominant arm, blade biting deep into iron.

Misha sighed, arms aching and throbbing before cold metal rushed through her veins.

Its attacks were untrained, sloppily relying on the sheer explosive strength it could exert, but that also had it's own dangers. Any footwork or fighting style it should've used to gain the powerful momentum it displayed was completely non-existent, leaving her on the defensive more often than she preferred as it's kept coming randomly.

The Thunderstorm Footwork she'd seen was no doubt well-deserved, but so was it's mid-tier ranking. She too recognized it was powerful as she'd spent countless years honing and sharpening it, but that also made her recognize something else.

It had reached its limits, and even if she kept training it wouldn't evolve further than it's current state.

That was the glass ceiling that every talentless Awakened eventually crashed into, no matter what. She was no different.

Another impact, more blows traded, and the unnatural beast still attacked her just as savagely as ever, swinging and waving around in a feverish state. But even though it seemed to lack sapience, it had enough of a mind to remember her attacks.

Misha felt wind billowing sharply against her skin, propelled by one of its strikes passing dangerously close to her lean neck. Retreating quickly, she was forced to defend as it raged against her spear's long handle. For a second, she worried it would break.

While some spears were made to bend a little so they could be wielded more fluidly, her's was not.

'For god's sake, doesn't this bastard ever tire out?'

As if to prove her point, she winced as she felt a blade slash her cheek, warm blood splashing against the left side of her face while she took the chance to slam her spear into its exposed chest. It didn't do anything, and Misha began to feel nervous.

A crisp electronic ding then sounded into her mind as she parried another slash, briefly stealing away her attention.

 

[The user has initiated a confrontation.]

[Appraisal of enemy stats possible.]

 

Her vision flickered subtly before a small screen appeared, floating to the side of the monster's head.

 

[Blooming Footman | Grade: ✪ | Power: Lv.22]
[Innate Skill: 〈Shell〉 -65% damage received from bladed weapons.]

 

She barely read it's contents as a clawed gauntlet came towards her left shoulder.

It's attacks became sharper, it's every move slightly better than the last. 'The noose's tightening.'

She finally realized why even though her opponent seemed weaker, she still couldn't execute it even with all her enhanced strength. As she tried thinking up a solution, she dodged another close swing of the bloody halberd coming from the lively armour.

She needed to find something in her favor, preferably fast. First, she scoured through her memories for any similar situations, mind spinning. A few pieces of her time hunting flashed by, but none of them could help. Absolutely nothing came up.

As she felt burning sweat gallop down the middle of her shoulders, something snapped into focus inside her brain.

'Fighting against this guy,' she realized, 'Reminds me of fighting against those Golem bastards.'

Golems.

Simple and stupid constructs made of things like hardened rocks, stones and soil, and magical ores sprinkled throughout. They were born from small overflows of magic in the underground, typically only inside Gates or when Outbreaks happened.

They could take any shape, ranging from hulking, jagged-framed humanoids, to beasts resembling warped animals like 7-legged mammals and 3-headed reptiles. Though they were filled to the brim with crystals, they rarely had the gift of magic themselves.

They were very similar to the one she was fighting, it was just more advanced.

That thought briefly sent her back to her rookie times, being guided by one of the Solar Knights' senior members. That veteran Awakened in question taught her the basics of Golem hunting — hit them with Aura-enhanced attacks rather than purely physical ones, most had a natural resistance or even outright immunity to all common damage.

No, no, you shouldn't pummel them with brute strength like that.

If you ever go against an elemental-type monster, always use Aura. Remember that.

He showcased it to her firsthand, making his blade shimmer with refined golden light that instead of metal, resembled more an aurora of overflowing golden yellow. It had his warmth to it, cultivated to protect rather than kill.

Just trust your senior on this, alright, newbie?

That was his warning before they went in, sharpening his longsword with his lips curled up into a warm smile like an older sibling's.

Inside that Gate, he was crushed into a bloody paste of broken bones and flesh after being separated from the main party by a band of marauding Golems. But that had been so, so long ago now, she almost didn't remember it.

Then, something in her head clicked as she came to an arguably obvious conclusion:

"Although it's not a Golem, it can share the same weakness, right?"

Murmuring softly to herself, she lowered her body and withdrew her spear slightly before focusing, pouncing towards the beast and dodging another attack. The Footman appeared to not even consider putting distance between them as its leg flew upwards, bending awkwardly as a foot aimed for her stomach with enough momentum to break her ribs.

Before it struck, she channeled Force Aura into her spear, a bright ivory glow settling on the steel blade as her arm arched like a drawn bow, sending the heavy spear forward with a powerful motion. But that wasn't enough to stop it.

It didn't seem to care that it could be injured, or even think about such a ludicrous possibility at all.

The monster struck her right in the side and she bit down a scream, the pale glow of her weapon quickly solidifying in the meanwhile, turning into a sharp silver edge that covered the original blade.

It barely managed to release a weak, short cry before the blade burrowed deep into its chest, cutting through like paper as her Aura rumbled explosively. The upper half of the Footman flew away into the air, while the lower half crumpled weakly to the ground.

'Yes!'

Her body shivered with pain and raw power, blade vibrating with a shrill cry.

The armour-corpse laid there, now still and dead and cold. Quickly, the overpowering smell receded until it disappeared completely, the flora clinging to it shriveling up in quick succession, drying and cracking before both flower and vine shattered into glass.

The muddled dark glass disintegrated into a cloud of fine black dust, blown away as it rode the wind.

Just like that, every piece of evidence that it was ever anything other than a discarded set of armour was gone, erased completely.

 'Oh, god.' With the threat gone, she felt her legs give out beneath her. 'Damn this new world to hell.'

'What kind of hellhole has such a freak wandering around unimpeded? Are the people here just... used to these things?'

She clutched her side desperately, breathing shakily as an awful burning sensation erupted from were she'd been hit. Misha tried breathing deep and slow, calming herself down even as overpowering pain washed through her.

Slowly, softly, she groped around the area of impact.

With a yell and a jump, her hands stilled, but she didn't take them away. 'Focus, fuck, focus.' She huffed, clumsy but caring palms touching her side soothingly as she circled the patch of herself that would no doubt be swelling dark purple and blue very shortly.

It didn't seem like the broken ribs had slid out of place, more like a static fracture rather than full-on bone displacement. She was no doctor though. And even still, the more she breathed, the worse the pain got.

'At least it'd be easy to heal.'

She circulated her Force Aura and a wave of soul-soothing comfort replaced the sheer agony she was feeling. With it came the realization that her rough medical analysis was right, it would heal finely given enough time.

The glow on her body weakened and fizzled out, retreating deep into her skin again, and the second blade around her weapon trembled slightly before falling apart and crawling down the shaft into her wrist. The logistics of her Force Aura and the wounds aside, she was more than a bit stunned at the development — while her Aura was relatively strong at the late stages of E-Rank, the power displayed right now was at least D-Rank.

"What the hell, this amount of strength is at least twice my original," she laughed, but then groaned at the resulting pulse of pain.

The pain turned her almost genuine smile into a grimace.

[The cleansing procedure also strengthens the user, unlocking their dormant potential.]

"So it's because of that?"

It was beyond crazy of a development for an Awakened's Force Aura to exceed their rank.

'No, if I'm judging by the strength of that monster compared to my own, I've certainly already surpassed E-Rank. I can't say I'm a D-Rank with confidence, but it's still amazing compared to my previous condition.'

This explained things neatly, but then came the bad news.

'Since it unlocked my dormant potential, that probably means that I'm not gonna ever get stronger than this.'

Still, being stuck at D-Rank wasn't that terrible.

Putting all of that past her, she found herself increasingly accepting the common sense of Earth couldn't apply to someone like her, someone with the assistance of the Slayer's Legacy. It was good she was stronger, but a bit depressing since she wouldn't rise any further.

Suddenly, Misha's instincts flared up. She tightened the grip on her spear, but the pain made her sluggish.

Before she could turn around, another wail similar to the one she'd experienced a few minutes back slammed into her back. All her movements slowed and turned sluggish as she tried to face the new Blooming Footman.

She pulled herself back together as quickly as last time, but before she could put up a reasonable defense, a painful line of fire ran across her entire back. A sharp flash of heat from her right shoulder to her left hipbone, stinging and biting.

"Ugh!"

Due to most of the area of impact being covered by only tough leather, the blade didn't meet much resistance. Not even nearly as much as Misha thought it would. She yelled in pain and hurriedly dodged to the side, feeling the cold blade slide across herself again as she put a bit of distance between them.

Another lesser bout of plain blossomed from a bit below her breasts, aching through the plate of metal there but thankfully not breaching. At least one part of her armor — she grimaced — was holding it's own.

After regaining her bearings, she swiftly held up her spear to parry away the monster's next blow, forcefully throwing it back in quick succession. A stream of heavy, warm liquid ran down the interior of her armour, nauseatingly thick and slick.

Fresh blood.

She reached around her body and lightly touched the wounded area, hissing with pain as blood stained her fingertips before she retracted her hand.

'Clearly,' she thought, 'I've overestimated how tough my equipment actually is.'

The blow from the new monster's halberd had easily breached her armour, the material had hardly taken a toll on its momentum and power as it slashed through. It unfortunately looked like the Slayer's Legacy had been cheap with her new equipment.

 

[The user has initiated a confrontation.]

[Appraisal of enemy stats possible.]

[Blooming Footman | Grade: ✪ | Power: Lv.20]
[Innate Skill: 〈Shell〉 -65% damage received from bladed weapons.]

 

There was a small curiosity tugging at her mind that wondered why this announcement had come so much quicker than the last one, but ultimately she just chalked it up to the System taking some time to get used to someone from a foreign place. With that she refocused her efforts on fighting.

The creature charged her again before she kicked it straight in the chest, and then charged again without any sign of being driven back.

"What a tenacious son of a bitch," she growled, "Just stay down!"

She gasped for air while sweating buckets, but it just caused the pain in her side to worsen. Gulping down the pain with the aid of some Force Aura, she forced herself to single-mindedly focus on killing this new enemy as soon as possible.

As it certainly wasn't considering its defense, she quickly covered her blade in silver Aura again before twisting her wrist, shooting the lance forward and digging into the living armour's helm. The light grey headpiece was easily bisected and dropped uselessly on the floor, the onyx flower on top of its head being similarly divided and also falling to the pavement.

While they shared a lot of things with Golems, they didn't seem to have the same vitality as them.

'Thank god for that, or it would be incredibly annoying without any allies here.'

After the Solar Knights' dissolution, she never fought any Golems again since it was basically impossible to solo hunt the bastards.

With the other attacker finished, she cracked and stretched her neck a little, feeling stiff from the sudden combat after weeks without any fighting. It wasn't like she'd turned sedentary, she just hadn't gone to the field in a while; she had forgotten to train for a while, though.

'I need to train myself even more now if I want to stay alive.'

She wasn't like those geniuses who gained enlightenment in battle or instinctively knew what they were doing wrong so they could hone themselves. The lives of normal Awakened like her were difficult, swamped with endless amounts of exercise.

"Damn," she gulped, tired and damp with sweat, "I better hide before more puppet soldiers start showing up."

Her mouth was already tainted with the heavy taste of her own blood, she didn't need anything more to warn her against letting that dance repeat itself. It hurt her pride to admit it, but she'd fucked up because of overestimating her own strength.

Spitting out some blood, she watched as a pool of red that seemed a bit darker than usual formed near her feet. Deep and dark crimson spilling out instead of bright red, venous instead of arterial — it would hurt and bleed, but it wouldn't be life-threatening. Even less so for an Awakened like her.

Misha grumbled beneath her breath and latched the heavy spear onto her back again, thinking about how she could resume her journey.

After a quick look around for buildings that were still intact enough to safely hide in, she found a small coffee shop to her left. It had definitely seen better days, but she was sure it would still proudly serve its new purpose — her temporary shelter.

She quickly made her way towards it and pushed the cracked double-glass door open, quietly and gently shutting it behind her as she made her way further inside, vigilant and ready to draw her spear at a moment's notice.

As if to mock her efforts, the sound of glass shattering rang out loudly throughout the empty wasteland. Her face tightened into a deep-set scowl that pulled at her already steely features.

Lifting her foot, she discovered she'd stepped on a glass cup, embossed with the shop's green logo and other nondescript details. Well, before she stepped on it — now all that remained was only a bunch of shards and fine glassy dust.

'Thank god I'm wearing boots.' She couldn't let herself get wounded so foolishly in this situation, no matter how small, even if only for a minute. 

Wooden chairs and tables were all smashed up all over the place, but the rubble could still be used as mediocre hiding spots if something came in. The large glass panes replacing the upper half 0f the walls wasn't ideal, but she preferred them over being stuck inside a collapsed store which could fall apart and trap her under rubble.

Silently, she looked around and took stock of the best places she could use. After mentally marking down a table that she could use to hide if danger came to meet her, she crouched down to safely peek out the windows.

While at it, she took the time to examine the wound on her back more clearly with one of the bigger shards loose on the floor. While it didn't look serious, the sheer amount of filth on the halberd made her feel very uncomfortable.

Force Aura could heal quite alright and even cure lesser ailments, but brewing infections were still outside of its domain.

Misha sighed. 'I need at least a first aid kit for this. Guess I'll make do with what I have.'

She cycled a refreshing gout of Aura through her aching body, seeping into her sore wounds and bruises as the bleeding slowed at a noticeable rate. As long as she didn't get hurt in the same place again it would quickly heal over in at least a few hours, give or take, but if it did and the Aura dispersed, then I'd be much more annoying to make it scab over.

One of the first things an Awakened learned in the hunting industry was emergency first-aid. The difference between knowing and not knowing it could be the deciding factor between someone dying, after all.

That aside, her focus was still on the street outside.

It was incredibly quiet now, not even a buzzing bug or creaking building. So quiet it made her stomach knot. All that made her further question just how the hell the second living armour had managed to sneak up on her, without any clanking at that? It was heavy armour too for god's sake.

And Misha wagered that another living armour appearing right after she'd finished killing the other one was just a bit too suspicious. 'How did it even get behind me?' Her thoughts swirled and she quickly put together three possible answers.

Either they wandered around in pairs to ambush their prey when they least expected, or it was coincidentally close enough to hear the fighting, or they had some way to communicate long-distance. She quickly discarded the first option; if they did wander in pairs, they the second one wouldn't have waited until the first was dead before acting.

It was simply too much of a sacrifice for just a simple surprise attack. 'If they had the brains to come up with buddy systems, then there's no way they wouldn't be able to ponder a better move than that.'

The second choice also didn't seem to be it from Misha's viewpoint. 'If it was close enough to hear the commotion, then it also wouldn't have taken so damn long to get there and attack me, unless the routes to me were blocked.' Which they weren't.

The most likely option was that they had some way of sharing information between themselves.

Her thoughts were quickly cut short as she heard metallic footsteps coming closer.

She grasped her spear more tightly, keeping it hidden from outside view close to her. The clanking came closer and closer in a steady rhythm, but while she could discern there were more than one, she couldn't figure out just how many there were.

'Two? Three? Four? Shit, this is way too much right now.'

They walked strange, like they were dragging their feet. And there was also the sound of... dripping, Misha successfully placed after a moment's thought.

'Are they drenched or something?'

She peeked through the glass nervously. What could she do if they found her? Maybe she could try using the terrain better to her advantage; lure them into an unstable building and collapse it on them, or she could—

Misha froze. Her breath hitched in her throat and the knot of fear in her stomach a tightened.

'What... What the fuck am I seeing?'

Legs and arms of metal, scratching at the floor with rusted talons as its grotesque mass shambled forward, heaving wetly under its own weight. Three helmets spun to look around the street, swiveling on necks of blood-smeared chain mail as cold blue fire burned in its three dark visors.

Dead bodies were stuffed inside it like a coffin— no, a sentient mass grave. They bled oozing, virulent dark murk all over the concrete, rotten and putrefying like road kill fermenting under the scorching sun, tainted old blood brown and yellow from the pus of countless infections.

Their blind eyes, some gray and milky, some collapsed inwards like crushed wet flowers, were turned towards her.

Misha felt bile rise to the back of her throat.

Many spasming limbs sprouted and ruptured randomly from along its body, possibly once just a common set of living armor before suffering its terrible transformation, but she couldn't see much from her vantage point. Not that she particularly wanted to see more of its vile shape.

Six twisted limbs on the floor — two legs trailing uselessly behind it, four clawed arms on the torso for movement — and five on its back — two legs growing near the shoulders and its bundle of heads like blunt pincers, three twitching arms wielding halberds along it's spine like a horrible praying mantis.

It sniffed around the corpses, huffing in a grotesquely human but still distinctively dog-like way, as if trying to catch her scent. The possibility it could chilled Misha's blood.

'I can't fight that damned thing.'

No matter what reviled hell that warped, distorted abomination had crawled out from, it certainly wasn't just cannon fodder like the earlier ones. It's pustulent, cancerous body looked wrong, but she didn't doubt it's combat efficiency.

Otherwise, how could something so horrible exist? For what purpose other than mindless killing?

But one question burned bright in her mind, almost brighter than her fear.

'What created that thing?'

Was it the System? Had it been the System all along creating all these monsters? She almost gagged at the thought of the same thing that'd birthed that wretched, overgrown beast also residing inside her like a parasite.

And then, it looked at her.

One of it's tumorous heads swiveled around to stare at her position, deep sapphire flame burning brightly in its dark socket. For a single jaw-clenching, heart-stopping moment, all of its disgusting attention was placed on her being.

Misha could almost smell the noxious, sickly sweet stench of its rotting, putrid body.

'Fuck.'

'Just look away.'

But it didn't. No matter how much she silently prayed that it did — as if to mock her desperate efforts — its gaze never left her's.

'Fuck, just look away, please!'

She didn't dare to lower her head else she miss the thing's approach. She gripped her spear tightly, prepared for the monster to attack her any second now. Visions of it charging like a bull or pouncing towards her like a rabid wolf filled her mind, choking out her fighting spirit.

And then it turned away.

Its three heads shot a final glance around the surroundings blanketed in death, then it shifted around with surprising ease and speed, limbs popping and moving unnaturally as it faced the way it came. The thing resumed its serpentine slithering, quickly leaving the area.

Misha let go of the breath she didn't realize she was still holding, feeling woozy and light-headed. She didn't know if she was wobbly because of the fear that'd raked it's terrible claws across her mind or the brief lack of oxygen, or maybe both at once.

"Fuck..."

She slumped against the wall, aching back against the cold concrete.

She sighed heavily and tiredly. Even though her strength had grown considerably after the agonizing cleansing process of the Slayer's Legacy, she was still far from being strong enough. Far from being safe in this new world.

Before pondering that more, she needed to get out of here.

"I need to get away right now," she decided, "It isn't safe here at all."

She made her way outside, spear grasped tightly in her hand.

Her journey was only beginning, she knew.

 

Misha groaned, softly cradling her fresh batch of injuries. "Shit."

'Damn, they left me with so many bruises.'

She fought much more than she thought herself capable of, and it was getting easier and easier to use her new strength. Although she had racked up quite the number of battle wounds too in her clumsy learning phase — she couldn't slow down or relax just yet.

While in her journey she'd seen many more monsters throughout the city, ranging from creatures similar to those she'd previously battled with to new and deadly beasts that seemed to be fighting with them for dominance.

One such fight could be seen right in front of her.

With a sonorous, bellowing roar akin to a car being crushed into wreckage, the hulking headless titan of warped iron and steel that'd lost its left arm some time throughout the fight swung its right mace-hand down, pounding against dark lilac scales as sapphire flames burned from the armored cyclopean hole on its chest.

The other monster hissed painfully like a kettle letting out steam, another crushing indent settling on its mossy, overgrown scales and wrinkled, scarred flesh. Its wide, fat body shuddered before the two lizard heads planted upon its thick, snake-like necks pounced forward, one set of jaws with serrated shark teeth closing around the armour's attacking arm while the other sunk its serpentine fangs into the crook of its neck.

Around the two intimidating monstrosities a chaotic brawl had descended, a damaged trio of Blooming Footmen facing against a dozen of violet-bloodied filthy lizardmen with differently colored scales — almost like a writhing rainbow — wielding primitive spears and swords of wood, iron and bone.

Despite appearing hopelessly outmatched, the three held their own remarkably well even as they lost whole chunks of themselves to fang and claw and blade.

'I've seen enough.'

After wrenching her spear from the chest of a Footman just behind the corner, she licked her chapped lips and looked around for any other signs of movement. Cautiously, she bounded for the opposite path to search for another route, passing many dead-end streets in the urban thickness of what she presumed to be downtown before stopping before a particular street blocked by a collapsed building.

"Fuck, this is really the only way forward?" She scrunched her brows.

Though furtive, she thought she could still see movement beneath the pile of rubble clogging her path.

"Maybe it's just something catching the sunlight," Misha said half-heartedly.

No matter what is was, it didn't change the fact she had to keep going forward. She was making a good pace, and she'd be damned to lose it now with sundown just around the corner. The thought of what would be prowling around the dark unnerved her.

"Alright, let's go."

With a quick pulse of Force Aura that made her veins whiten and push against her skin, she leapt onto the blockade of concrete and carefully rose up to the top. Nothing made itself known despite her movement.

"Yeah, just a trick of the light," she tried convincing herself again, but it still didn't stick.

This was a good outcome, all things considered. In just one or two hours her wounds would probably be all healed up, she didn't want to open them all up fighting with some nameless fodder. Not that there seemed to be any nearby.

There was always the chance she was just being paranoid and relying too much on the neurotic part of her brain after seeing her Trait, but she wouldn't have things any other way. 'Better to be paranoid than sorry in situations like these.'

And then, something emerged.

 

[The user has initiated a confrontation.]

 

In a rush of black, a thick and long thing, so slick and oily it reflected the sunlight with a shimmering dazzle, erupted from the debris with a hissing cry. It tunneled through the rubbish and snapped at Misha, scraping her greaves as she dodged away.

 

[Appraisal of enemy stat—]

 

Wincing with the pain of her wounds acting up, she drew her spear at the pitch-black rope of a being. The blade flashed through the dark, ichorous living cord, cutting off the creature's head — she wagered only because of the fanged maw adorning it — in one quick motion.

The head rolled to her feet with a wet thud, swollen forked tongue lolling out in a pool of black, where she saw it was completely eyeless.

"Creepy fucker," she spat out.

After a moment, more slithering sounds came from all over. With a sigh, she quickly jumped to the ground on the opposite side of the grey mound, hissing with pain from her healing injuries. She decided to continue on her way as the sun lowered more and more into the horizon, slowly dyeing the world in a mixed golden and crimson hue.

It was a beautiful light, a pity it only illuminated butchered corpses and senseless destruction.

Along the entire way, she always took only the safest paths, even if they were longer or had more difficult terrain. 'As long as they don't have monsters.'

Street after street and neighborhood after neighborhood, Misha trekt forward while fighting the weakest monsters. Slowly but surely, she made her way out of the area and saw that the further she walked, the less monsters she found.

She had seen some strong beasts and quite large groups of enemies in her surroundings while she was scouting, but they seemed to be predominantly in the area in which she'd first arrived. She was happy she hadn't gone the wrong way and encountered more enemies; maybe she'd even find a few survivors if she kept her current rhythm.

Along the way she'd been collecting a fair bit of wounds, but they were leagues lighter than her first ones. "Damn, it'd be great if things keep going this well," she smiled.

But her optimism was quickly extinguished as she heard footsteps coming her way:

They weren't heavy and metallic or wet and slimy, and neither was there any slithering, so it wasn't any of the monsters she already knew. They were much more natural, like the opposing party was wearing leather boots or heavy shoes. Misha didn't know if it was a person or another breed of monster, so she stayed on her toes.

She hid behind a half-destroyed car and gripped her heavy spear tight, ready to ambush if deemed necessary.