A
few days had passed, and Stark was now fighting three Stilos at once.
He had grown accustomed to their attack patterns. His footwork was
quicker, and his reflexes were sharper. His swordplay had improved
drastically, thanks to the constant battles.
Krul
had decided to increase the difficulty, and at first, Stark
struggled. Attacks from blind spots had left him vulnerable.
Slowly
but surely. He adapted.
Today
was different. For the first time, he faced three Stilos at once, all
larger than the first one. They were faster, deadlier.
The
first Stilo charged at him without hesitation.
Stark
leapt onto its back, but the beast bucked violently, trying to throw
him off. He sprang off just in time, but the second Stilo was already
releasing a breath of fire.
“Fuck...”
he cursed, diving backward to avoid the flames.
The
third Stilo charged at him next. Stark dropped his shoulder and used
his sword to deflect off the edge of its hard head, using the
momentum to flip away into a corner.
Now,
Stark was surrounded. Behind him was the isolation wall by Krul and
Ahead were the three beasts. Their eyes locked on him, closing in.
His
eyes darted back and forth, searching for an opening.
He
lunged toward the gap between the two of them, but they shifted to block
him. Stark didn’t
hesitate. He sharply pivoted to the other side, slipping past them
and escaping the cornered situation.
The
larger Stilos were deadly, but their size came with a disadvantage:
gaps. Unlike the smaller ones, their hard shell and fur didn’t
extend past their knees.
The
three beasts turned toward him. By then, Stark was already charging
at the Stilo furthest away. He weaved to the side and swung his blade
beneath its knee, slicing through the flesh, leaving a deep gash.
Blood sprayed and the Stilo screeched in agony.
Stark
quickly dashed to the wounded beast’s
back. He noticed the other two preparing to unleash their flames.
The
flames hit the injured Stilo in the face, making it screech louder,
shaking its head in panic.
Blinded
by the fire, the wounded Stilo charged at the nearest Stilo. Its
front legs lifted from the impact, exposing its underbelly.
Without
hesitation, Stark dashed forward. Using the front legs of the injured
Stilo as leverage, he leapt onto its head, then launched himself
toward the second beast, sword raised high.
His
blade descended in a deadly arc, cutting from the top to the middle
of its belly.
The
Stilo screeched before collapsing onto its back, blood and organs
spilling through the deep gash. It squirmed briefly, then went limp.
The
injured Stilo, still in panic, was a blur in Stark's vision.
Not
now,
he thought, his eyes fixed on the other beast.
The
third Stilo was preparing to charge. Stark’s
lips curled into a smile. He took a step back, drawing the beast’s
attention.
As
the Stilo was about to charge, Stark dashed toward the wounded one.
The focused Stilo, who followed him blind with fury, charged and rammed
its hard head into the injured Stilo's side.
Stark
pivoted on his heel, dodging as the wounded Stilo flipped through the
air, landing heavily on its back, sending a spray of sand into the
air.
Nice.
That’s
how you beasts should behave.
He
turned around and sprinted toward the fallen Stilo. Climbing onto its
exposed belly, he slashed at it mercilessly, each strike spraying
blood in every direction.
As
the dust began to settle, a torrent of flames cut through the haze.
Stark ducked low, barely dodging the fire. The flames grazed his
arms, leaving stinging red burns.
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Two
down. One to go.
Stark swiftly descended from the fallen beast’s
body, his focus now entirely on the last Stilo.
Stark
gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the needle-like burning
sensation coursing through his body. From a distance, he studied the
Stilo, waiting for the right moment to strike. Taking a step forward,
he taunted the beast to make the first move.
As
he moved into its range, the Stilo's gaze locked onto him
The
moment it began to open its mouth, Stark dashed to the side, weaving
unpredictable. He closed in and slid beneath the gap between its
legs, he slashed open its hind legs swiftly and precisely, cutting
below the knees. .
It
can’t
charge now.
Anticipating
its next move, Stark darted from side to side and slashed at Stilo’s
legs. Each strike left deep gashes below the knees, weakening the
beast further. The Stilo screeched in pain, its thrashing flinging
loose sand into the air.
Preparing
to unleash its fiery breath, the Stilo reared back. Stark ran
straight toward it
The
beast was seeing red. The air grew unbearably hot as the flames
roared toward him.
With
a sharp pivot, Stark evaded the attack and drove his sword into the
flesh of the Stilo’s
open mouth.
The
beast cried out in agony, but this time it clamped its jaws down,
tightening its flesh around the blade.
Damn
it…
this beast—
The
sword was stuck. The air grew oppressive as the Stilo prepared to
unleash another torrent of flames.
…
I won’t—
“YOU
DAMNED BEAST!” Stark roared, channeling every ounce of strength
into driving the stuck sword down.
The
flames erupted, scorching the sands and filling the air with a
hissing roar. But Stark had already torn the Stilo's mouth apart, the
flesh splitting as he fell to the ground, narrowly escaping the
searing attack.
Above
him, the Stilo's mouth hung open, blood pouring down onto him. The
heat still radiated from the beast.
Wasting
no time, Stark thrust his sword upward into the roof of the Stilo’s
gaping mouth. The blade pierced through the tender flesh, driving
into its eyes and deep into its brain.
With
a guttural screech, the Stilo thrashed violently, but it was too
late. Its brain was damaged, and blood gushed from its wounds. The
beast staggered before collapsing to the ground, its body going limp
and lifeless.
Stark
had won the battle—entirely on his own.
“Splendid,
child,” Krul remarked, descending gracefully from the sky.
A
golden glow enveloped Stark, swiftly mending his burns and wounds
from the battle. The beast’s
blood evaporated from his skin, leaving him clean once more
Stark
took a deep breath. He felt stronger than the day before—a small
but satisfying improvement. Still, it wasn’t
enough. He was nowhere near the level of the Squire or the Elder
Bone-eater.
To
survive, strength was essential.
“How
does it feel to defeat one of the weakest beasts in the Great Sands?”
Krul asked with a smug expression.
“Oh….It
feels like crap.”
“Oh?
Does it?” Krul studied him, intrigued.
’s
a natural warrior, Krul thought. Adapting to different situations
within days of starting his training.
“And
why do you feel that way?”
“I
don’t know... it feels like my sword is weak,” Stark admitted.
“It
weak, child,”
Krul explained. “I am no sword master—I cannot teach you the way
of the sword. I am a magus.”
With
a snap of his fingers, he broke the isolation barrier. Faint glowing
particles dissipated into the air.
“Today’s
training is done. From now on, you will be in charge of hunting for
food.”
“Huh?”
“Hunt
Stilos and bring them to the cave,” Krul said with a sly smile. “It
will be excellent training.”
As
Krul and Stark turned to leave, another beast appeared before them.
It was a slender, bipedal creature with rock-textured skin and spikes
running along its back. Hollow sockets clung to its squared face, and
at the center of its chest was a gaping hole. Wooden tendrils jutted
from the cavity, curling protectively over its chest.
“Get
behind me,” Krul ordered, his voice cold and firm.
Stark
sensed something was wrong and quickly obeyed.
The
beast tilted its head a full 180 degrees, a sinister grin spreading
across its unnatural face.
Then
it vanished.
Stark’s
eyes darted frantically from side to side, searching for the beast.
Krul
raised his left palm, and a blue aura enveloped his hand, forming a
circular barrier around them.
An
ear-splitting explosion rocked the desert as sand erupted into the
air. The beast’s
punch slammed against the barrier, sending shock waves rippling
outward. It had aimed directly at Stark.
The
sudden impact startled Stark, causing him to stumble and fall to the
ground.
Krul
turned his cold gaze toward the beast.
The
creature began pummeling the barrier with relentless force, each
strike shaking the earth beneath them. Stark could feel the raw,
overwhelming power from within the barrier.
Krul
clicked his tongue in irritation. “You
filthy corrupted being,” he spat in contempt
Just
as the beast raised its hand for another punch, Krul lowered the
barrier and extended his other palm. A violet beam shot out, striking
the creature in the gut. The impact sent it flying like a rag doll,
crashing into a massive dune and leveling it completely.
What
the hell is that creature?
Stark thought, his heart racing.
Before
he could process what had happened, the beast reappeared in front of
Krul.
“Annoying,”
Krul muttered, blocking its punch with the barrier once again. His
cold gaze swept over the beast, noting the chipped fragments of its
rocky skin where the beam had struck.
The
creature leaped back, and Krul allowed the barrier to disperse.
In
a flash, he carved a glyph into the air—so fast that Stark didn’t
catch the movement.
“Begone,
corrupted soul,”
The
beast’s
head exploded instantly. No blood spilled; only fragments of rocky
skin flew into the sky before raining down like shards of glass. Its
lifeless body collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
