They moved as one.
Lucien darted left, drawing The Warden's attention. Osman circled right, claws scraping against stone, yellow eyes locked on the ogre's exposed flank.
The Warden roared and swung its massive club.
Lucien rolled beneath the strike, the spiked weapon smashing into the ground where he'd stood a heartbeat before. Stone exploded and dust filled the air.
Osman lunged, his claws raking across the ogre's calf. Black blood sprayed as the Warden bellowed in pain and kicked.
Osman barely dodged, the massive foot grazing his shoulder and sending him tumbling across the floor.
"Keep moving!" Lucien shouted.
He charged, Edge of the End flashing. The blade bit into the ogre's thigh, cutting deep. The Warden roared and swung backhanded.
Lucien ducked, pivoted, and struck again but this time at the back of its knee.
The creature staggered but didn't fall.
And already, the wounds were closing. Flesh knitting back together, black blood drying, scars fading.
"It's healing too fast!" Osman snarled.
Lucien gritted his teeth. "Then we don't give it time to breathe!"
They attacked in tandem... Lucien striking high, Osman low. The Warden tried to defend, but it was too slow, too cumbersome. Every time it focused on one of them, the other struck.
Slash. Claw. Dodge. Strike.
Blood sprayed everywhere. The ogre's roars grew louder and more desperate.
But the regeneration never stopped.
"We can't win by attrition!" Lucien shouted, breathing hard.
"Then what do we do?!" Osman replied, leaping aside as the club smashed into the ground again.
Before Lucien could answer, The Warden raised its club high and slammed it into the floor with both hands.
[Skill Activated: Earthquake Slam]
The entire chamber shook.
The ground beneath them cracked, fissures spreading like spider webs. One of the massive pillars groaned and began to collapse, chunks of stone raining down from above.
Lucien and Osman scrambled back, barely avoiding the falling debris.
The Warden roared in triumph and charged.
Lucien rolled aside. Osman leapt over the swinging club. They regrouped, panting, circling the beast.
"We need to end this," Lucien said. "Fast."
"Agreed."
They moved again... faster this time, more aggressive. No defense. Only offense.
Osman went low, tearing at the ogre's ankles. Lucien went high, driving his blade into its shoulder, then its neck, then its chest.
The Warden tried to regenerate, but the wounds came too quickly. It couldn't keep up.
Black blood pooled around its feet. Its movements slowed. Its roars turned to labored gasps.
And then...
[Boss Health: 40%]
[Berserk Mode Activated]
The Warden's body convulsed.
Its skin turned red, veins bulging beneath the surface. Steam poured from its wounds. Its eyes... milky and dull before... are now burned with feral rage.
It moved... fast.
Too fast.
The club swung in a blur. Osman tried to dodge, but the strike caught him all up and broke his ribs.
The impact sent him flying across the chamber. He hit a pillar with a sickening crack and collapsed to the ground, gasping, blood pouring from his mouth.
"Osman!" Lucien shouted.
The Warden turned toward him, club raised.
Lucien barely had time to raise his sword before the ogre was on him.
The blows came like a storm... relentless, brutal and impossibly fast. Lucien blocked and1 dodged by fractions of inches. His arms screamed. His ribs burned. Every impact sent shockwaves through his body.
He couldn't keep this up.
The club came down again. Lucien blocked, but the force drove him to one knee. The stone beneath him cracked.
The Warden raised its weapon for the killing blow.
Lucien's mind raced.
I need to end this. One strike. No regeneration. No second chances.
And then, as if answering his desperation, the System spoke.
A translucent window appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light.
[Weapon Skill Available: Edge]
Type: Active (Iaido/Quick Draw)
Effect: An instantaneous draw-and-slash technique performed at the speed of light. The blade must be sheathed to activate. Strikes before the target can react.
Mana Cost: High (35%)
Cooldown: 10 minutes
Constraint: Requires full focus and perfect stance.
Note: "The blade that ends all things in a single breath."
Lucien's eyes widened.
The blade must be sheathed.
He looked down at Edge of the End, still gripped tightly in his hand.
The Warden's club descended.
Lucien threw himself backward, rolling across the floor. He came up on one knee, breathing hard, and looked at the makeshift scabbard strapped to his back.
One chance.
He sheathed the sword.
The click of the blade locking into place echoed through the chamber.
The Warden roared and charged.
Lucien closed his eyes.
He could feel it... the weight of the blade, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the flow of mana through his body. Everything slowed down. The sound of the ogre's footsteps became distant, muffled.
He took a breath.
One strike. One chance.
He opened his eyes.
The Warden was three meters away.
Two.
One.
Lucien's hand moved to the hilt.
"EDGE!"
The world blurred.
Lucien drew.
The blade left its scabbard faster than thought, faster than sight. Light trailed behind it, a silver arc that split the air itself.
The Warden didn't see it coming. He couldn't see it coming.
The strike passed through its neck like water.
For a single, frozen moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, the ogre's head slid free from its shoulders.
It hit the ground with a dull thud.
The massive body swayed once, twice, then collapsed, the sound echoing through the chamber like thunder.
[Boss Defeated: The Warden – Giant Ogre]
Silence.
Lucien stood still, sword still extended, steam rising from the blade. His chest heaved. His vision swam. Every muscle in his body screamed.
Then his legs gave out.
He fell to his knees, Edge of the End clattering to the ground beside him.
Across the chamber, Osman groaned and pushed himself up, clutching his broken arm. "Lucien... you... you did it."
Lucien nodded weakly, unable to speak.
And then, the System chimed again.
[Skill ??? – Progress: 8.33%]
[Status: Locked at 8.33%]
[Trial Approaching: 7 Days]
Before Lucien could process the words, pain lanced through his skull.
No. Not again.
The world shattered.
Sunlight. Laughter. The clang of steel on steel.
Lucien stood in a training yard, younger, smaller, his hands gripping a wooden sword. Across from him, a man swung his blade in a graceful arc, parrying Lucien's strike with ease.
"Again," the man said, grinning. "Faster this time."
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with kind eyes and a smile that made the world feel safer. Ten years older than Lucien. A brother. A mentor.
"Luc," Lucien panted, raising his sword again. "I can't keep up with you."
Luc laughed, the sound warm and full of life. "You will. One day, you'll surpass me. I'm sure of it."
Lucien lunged again. Luc sidestepped, tapped his shoulder lightly with the flat of his blade, and ruffled Lucien's hair.
"Come on, little brother. One more time."
Lucien gasped, the vision fading.
He was back in the chamber, kneeling on cold stone, tears streaming down his face.
"Luc..." he whispered.
Osman limped over, concern in his yellow eyes. "Lucien? What happened?"
Lucien shook his head, wiping his eyes. "Nothing. Just... a memory."
Before Osman could press further, a sound echoed through the chamber... the grinding of stone on stone.
They both turned.
The massive iron door at the far end of the room was opening, light pouring through the widening gap. Not the sickly glow of torches, but sunlight. Real, bright, blinding.
"The exit," Osman breathed.
Lucien forced himself to stand, every movement agony. He retrieved Edge of the End and sheathed it carefully.
Together, bloodied and broken, they limped toward the light.
The brightness was overwhelming.
Lucien shielded his eyes as they stepped through the doorway and emerged into... chaos.
They stood in the middle of a street. Buildings rose around them, glass and steel, towering into a clear blue sky. Cars lined the roads, some overturned, others abandoned. And everywhere... everywhere... there were bodies.
Monster corpses littered the ground. Ghouls, goblins, orcs and everything in between. The air reeked of blood and smoke.
And standing among the carnage were Hunters.
A dozen of them, clad in reinforced armor, weapons drawn. Their eyes snapped toward Lucien and Osman the moment they appeared.
One of them... a woman with short black hair and a rifle... raised her weapon. "Contact! Two unknowns emerging from the rift!"
Another Hunter, a man with a shield, stepped forward. "Identify yourselves! Now!"
Lucien raised his hands slowly, his sword still sheathed. "We're Hunters. We just cleared the dungeon."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "A dungeon that's been active for hours. And you expect us to believe you cleared it alone?"
Her gaze shifted to Osman, to his white fur, his claws, his fangs.
"And that's not a Hunter," she said coldly. "That's a monster."
She aimed her rifle at Osman's head.
"No!" Lucien stepped in front of him, arms spread. "He's a Hunter too! His skill... it transforms him into a werewolf!"
"Bullshit," the woman spat. "Step aside."
"I won't."
The Hunters tensed, weapons raised.
Then, a voice cut through the tension... calm, authoritative.
"Stand down."
A man stepped forward, older, grey-haired, wearing the insignia of the Hunter Association on his coat. His eyes scanned Lucien, then Osman, then Lucien again.
Recognition flickered across his face.
"You," he said quietly. "Lucien de Mireval."
Lucien's breath caught.
The man continued, his tone measured. "The last time we saw you was at the Jerusalem Dome. Several weeks ago. And now you appear here, in New York, emerging from a rift with... a werewolf."
He gestured to his team. "Lower your weapons."
They obeyed, reluctantly.
The man stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "Mr. de Mireval. Mr... werewolf. You will come with us. Peacefully."
It wasn't a request.
Lucien met his gaze, exhausted, bloodied, barely able to stand.
"Fine," he said quietly.
The man nodded. "Good. Welcome to New-York."