The crimson moon bathed the battlefield in its eerie glow as Ludwig stood amidst the carnage, his Durandal Shard dripping with black ichor. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid stench of werebat insides filled the night air, clinging to his tattered robes. His chest rose and fell in steady, unnecessary breaths – a lingering habit from life that his undead body maintained out of muscle memory rather than need.
With a practiced motion, Ludwig raised his sword high above his head, the blade catching the moonlight in a deadly shimmer. The first Werebat lunged at him with a guttural screech, its grotesque maw gaping wide to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. The sword came down in a devastating arc, cleaving through matted fur and brittle bone with sickening ease.
[-12,000]
Before he could finish the creature off, a second Werebat launched itself from his blind spot, its leathery wings spread wide. Ludwig’s left hand shot out with unnatural speed, his undead fingers clamping around the beast’s throat with vice-like strength. At the same moment, his chain lashed out with a mind of its own, the [Sentient Serpent] skill sending it whipping through the air to intercept a third attacker mid-leap.
[-900]
With a grunt of effort, Ludwig slammed the squirming Werebat in his grip down onto its wounded companion, their bodies colliding on top of each other with a wet crunch against the blood-soaked earth. In one fluid motion, he twisted the Durandal Shard into a backhanded grip, his knuckles whitening around the hilt as he drove the blade downward with all his enhanced strength. The weapon punched through both creatures with terrifying force, burying itself deep into the packed dirt beneath them.
[-19,510]
[-18,994]
Black blood bubbled from their wounds as they writhed, pinned like grotesque specimens. Ludwig didn’t give them a chance to recover. His free hand snapped open, palm facing downward as mana surged through his undead veins, or more truthfully the mana circuits of Nephilium underneath all the rotting flesh, coalescing into a swirling ball of fire at his fingertips.
“[Fireball!]”
The explosion lit up the night, flames roaring to life with a deafening whoosh. The heat washed over Ludwig’s face, singeing what remained of his eyebrows as the two Werebats cooked alive, their high-pitched shrieks cut short by the inferno. Their fur blackened and curled, their flesh bubbling as the magical flames consumed them.
[You have slain Werebat (Level 60)]
[You have slain Werebat (Level 60)]
The loot notifications flashed briefly in his vision – more fangs to add to his growing collection. But now wasn’t the time to scavenge. The red glow of countless eyes still surrounded him in the darkness, their numbers seemingly endless. The staccato rhythm of clawed feet against the paved stone of the garden grew louder as more of the creatures closed in.
Ludwig dropped to one knee, pressing his palm flat against the scorched earth. The ground trembled beneath his touch as dark energy gathered in his fingertips, the familiar chill of necromantic power crawling up his arm.
“[Rise Undead!]”
Blue-black sigils erupted from his hand, spreading across the ground like spilled ink before latching onto the charred remains of the two Werebats. The corpses convulsed violently, bones cracking and reforming as unholy energy forced them back into a mockery of life. Their burnt wings stretched with a sickening tear of reforming flesh, their claws flexing as they rose to serve their new master.
With two undead now flanking him, Ludwig’s situation had improved slightly – but not enough. The remaining Werebats showed no fear, their beady red eyes gleaming with mindless hunger as they circled closer. Their numbers were overwhelming, and Ludwig could feel the press of bodies closing in from all sides.
Then the movement at his back. A Werebat pounced from behind, its claws outstretched to rend his flesh. Ludwig’s chain was already occupied, fending off another group to his left. To turn and block would leave him exposed to the front.
His eyes flashed with golden light as [Trace] activated.
Time seemed to slow as the skill revealed its path – a glowing blue trail of possibilities stretching before him. Ludwig followed it without hesitation, bending his knees and launching himself upward with [Summersault Slam]. The Werebat’s claws raked through empty air where his head had been just moments before.
Mid-air, [Trace] continued to guide him, revealing not just where the creature would land, but how to strike.
Ludwig adjusted his trajectory following [Trace]’s directives to the letter. He tucked his knees tighter to his chest as shown, gripped with both hands one atop another at the sword’s hilt, and immediately he felt his own weight concentrating this time fully on the weapon’s base. Not only that it perfectly match and align both the weight of his body and weapon together. The Durandal Shard hummed as it cut through the night, its edge guided by something deeper than mere skill effects.
The impact was catastrophic.
The blade connected with the Werebat’s skull at the exact angle and velocity [Trace] had shown him. Bone shattered like glass, the force driving straight through its head and into the ground beneath. The earth itself fractured from the blow, spiderweb cracks radiating outward from the crater left by the devastating strike.
***
[Execution!]
[You have slain Werebat (Level 60)]
[Achievement Unlocked: Cull the Meek]
[Cull the Meek]: All enemies below your level take 10% increased damage from all sources.
***
Ludwig exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the hilt. That strike had felt different – cleaner, more precise. It wasn’t just the system executing a pre-programmed skill. He had felt something deeper in that moment, a connection between his body, his weapon, and the movement itself.
“That’s more like it.”
The Knight King’s voice echoed in his mind, carrying a rare note of approval.
“Seems like I should be using your style some more,” Ludwig said with a smile.
“No, more like, that is the first time you ever used that properly, all you do is use [Skills] but not the art itself. This time, your whole weight, and the sword’s weight, combined, was what allowed you to see the truth behind the Tyrant Blade. It’s not something that can be learned via a skill system that bypasses the need to learn. To properly use a sword, one must first understand it.”
Ludwig didn’t understand much of his words, but he got the gist of things. Relying on the ‘system’ itself was fine, but it doesn’t cover the battle experience itself.
“The Tyrant Blade technique is an art designed to kill beasts, and to do so, one shouldn’t be wasting time with these vermin; one hit each is all it should take you to slay these things. If you use more, then that just means that you’re a failure,” the Knight King said.
Then, a new notification burned into his vision, the text glowing with an intensity that demanded attention…
***
[Mentor’s Quest!]
The Knight King wants to see your grit. For that, you must prove your worth for using the Tyrant Blade Technique.
Part 1:
Slay 10 Werebats in one hit each.
Time Limit: 24 hours.
Reward: Accelerated mastery of the Tyrant Blade Technique.
Failure: The Knight King’s eternal disappointment.
***
Ludwig’s grin widened as he read the challenge. “Well, I did it once,” he murmured to himself. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do it again.”
He reached for [Trace], already planning his next move, eager to replicate that perfect strike
[You are unable to use Trace for the next 24 hours.]
The notification hit him like a physical blow. His eyes widened in shock, the blue light fading from his vision just as a shadow lunged from his periphery.
Claws flashed in the moonlight.