His stomach screamed louder than the beasts.
He didn't remember the last time he tasted real food. The world around him blurred—blood, ash, the foul stench of rot. Every breath he took burned his throat.
He pulled out a battered teleportation stone, his only escape.
"Home," he whispered. The stone pulsed weakly… then cracked in half.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Teleportation stone expired. Maximum 2 uses reached.]
"Damn it…"
He let the broken shard fall from his fingers as his gaze slowly turned toward the twitching corpse of a monster he had slain hours ago. His lips curled.
"No other choice."
He carved into it. The flesh steamed above a small flame, the bitter smell making him gag—but he ate. One bite. Two. Enough to stay alive. Not enough to feel human.
Then—they came.
Shrieks echoed through the night. Trees trembled. Shadows surrounded him.
He stood, slow and deliberate. His eyes sharpened. The sword slid from its sheath with a soft metallic whisper.
The first monster lunged. He didn't move. Until—
Slash.
Its head spun through the air.
He moved like a shadow between them, blade dancing in arcs of death. One strike per target. No wasted effort. His speed was monstrous—almost unreal.
That's when the Dark Puzzle Mode hit 80%.
A new current surged through his veins—his heartbeat synced with the pulse of the hunt. His muscles burned, each strike a blur, his vision narrowing to only the targets in front of him.
One blink, and he was gone.
He reappeared mid-air, flipping above a massive beast, blade spinning like a hurricane. With a growl, he sliced its spine clean in half. He landed in a crouch, sliding on blood-soaked dirt, eyes glowing faintly with black fire.
Another beast charged—he sidestepped, dragging his sword along its ribs, gutting it alive. He didn't stop. He couldn't. His legs moved before thought. His instincts were now sharpened by rage, by power.
But they were endless.
They circled. They adapted. They clawed and bit—ripping into his body.
A tusk impaled his side. Another slammed him into a jagged rock. His blade slipped from his hand. His eyes dimmed.
He stumbled. The beasts roared in triumph.
But there was no time for fear.
His hand clenched into a fist as he pushed through the pain. Dark Puzzle Mode kept him moving—his body thrumming with life, every second bringing him closer to something darker, something more deadly.
Slash.
He tore into them again. His sword never faltered. The weight of his blows split bones and cracked skulls. One after another, they fell before him.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
He was barely standing. Blood poured from countless wounds. His body screamed in agony. But he kept going.
Each movement was a reflex, no longer conscious. He became the storm. He became the predator.
With a final, ferocious swing, he cleaved the last beast in half.
But then his body collapsed.
Exhaustion hit like a mountain. His legs gave way beneath him. His muscles screamed in pain, and his chest heaved for breath.
The blood-soaked battlefield was silent.
He had won. But at what cost?
His body was too battered, too tired. He couldn't move anymore.
He collapsed into the dirt, too tired to even lift his head. His chest heaved, his vision blurry, his mind foggy. He didn't know how long he lay there—minutes, hours, or days.
All he knew was that he needed to rest.
And for now, he couldn't fight anymore.
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