NOVPUBKilling a rank two monster in a single strike — that was the stuff of legends, a feat whispered about among average first-class parties. And yet, here Damon was, with only half his party present, planning to do exactly that to a rank two Mist Knight.
It would've been wildly ambitious. Those who had reached higher-class advancements were already superhuman.
Damon himself was proof — even without magic, he could sprint a kilometer in moments.
He still remembered his encounter with the evil forest wendigo. Just a rank one monster, yet it had closed the kilometer-long distance between them in the blink of an eye, before Damon could even think of escape.
He gripped his sword tighter.
He wasn't the same boy he'd been weeks ago.
Funny. Just weeks. And yet it already felt like years since he'd gotten the system.
He surged forward toward the Mist Knight in front of him — Thren. Part of him expected the corrupted knight to vanish into mist, teleport away, or pull some other trick.
But he didn't.
He met Damon's blade head-on, his gaze stopping on the sword. A flicker of emotion — barely visible — trembled across his corrupted face.
As if he were remembering… a friend.
Evangeline seized the moment, unleashing a radiant blade. Damon noticed — again — how much she seemed to favor that spell.
He didn't have time to dwell on it.
He threw a punch, dark flames spiraling around his fist — but the knight didn't even flinch as the energy faltered. Damon's shadow energy reserves were too low.
That was fine.
A streak of cold, blue-white arrows hissed through the air, embedding into the Mist Knight's hood. Their cruelty was almost disturbing… especially coming from Sylvia.
She looked irritated. Her grey eyes shimmered like steel. It did no damage he simply moved away.
"Hmph." Valarie's disembodied lips curled, even without a face. "That one's a bit protective of you."
Damon heard her, but didn't respond. He already knew what she was implying.
He flipped mid-air using his parkour skills, transitioning into a flawless landing, his own technique pushing his body further than human limits.
It was time to end it.
He spread his shadow perception outward.
Matia was back-to-back with Leon, standing atop a mound of shattered skeletons.
Just as Damon had instructed, they hadn't hesitated to use Xander as a shield. His armor was dented, but he still fought on — dueling a four-armed undead creature alone.
Damon exhaled slowly.
If he didn't finish this now, they'd all fall. One mistake could mean the difference between life and death. He had to act now.
He pointed across the battlefield at one of the Mist Knights. "That one. He's Thren."
Evangeline sensed a surge of hostility from that direction. Almost too obvious. Too clean. She hesitated, then nodded and dashed through the illusion.
Damon nodded at Sylvia. She understood. Together, they focused on the supposed knight, ignoring every other illusion as their bodies phased through the misty fakes.
He curved around from the flank, rushing in from the side. His target flinched.
A fake.
He kept going, spears sailing through his body — illusions, all of them.
He closed in on the knight, eyes locked. Evangeline and Sylvia aimed their spells, ready to strike.
At the last moment, Damon shifted.
His sword flashed, carving clean through a knight to the left — one who hadn't reacted at all.
A solid hit.
He felt his blade pierce armor, slice flesh.
He activated Bloodletting — inducing a brutal bleeding effect. His blade laced with power that severed soul and body alike.
Disintegration, the power of molecular breakdown.
His gaze locked with cold, glowing eyes.
"I can sense your shadow," he muttered. "You got full of yourself because we kept falling for your tricks."
The corrupted knight gasped, blood pouring from the wound. He had let his guard down. Victory had been within reach — and Damon had feigned desperation perfectly.
Valarie's voice carried a rare ease. "A sound strategy… Make him think you hadn't noticed, then strike when he thinks he's won. I suppose we now know who's more insidious."
The Mist Knight collapsed to his knees, his voice low and broken.
"You have bested… Thren of the Glades…"
His soul flickered, light snuffed out. He fell.
Damon heard a familiar chime.
[You have slain Mist Knight Elks.]
He froze.
Elks?
He turned toward Valarie. His lips parted but no words came out. The Mist Knight had said they bested Thren — not that he was Thren.
Damon expanded his shadow perception again.
There.
A faint presence. Hidden in the corner of the room. Still, motionless, like a statue.
He'd missed it.
He threw his sword.
A blur of steel shot across the room, too fast to track.
Thud.
A rasping exhale followed. An armorless man in a black tunic appeared, face concealed in a deep hood. Damon's blade was lodged in his chest.
The real Thren.
The man fell.
[You have slain Mist Knight Thren.]
[You have leveled up.]
[You have gained 90 attribute points.]
[You have awakened the skill: Shadow Storage.]
It happened so fast, the others didn't even know how to react.
Valarie's lips pressed together.." how…"
Damon sighed, his shoulders sagging. "It's almost sundown… Grab what's valuable and let's go. Hurry."
They scoured the battlefield quickly, taking what they could, and left with Valarie in tow.
They had survived. Again.
The sun dipped low in the ruined skyline of the ancient city.
And then…
A faceless entity walked in.
It scanned the ground, especially the spaces where Sylvia had fought — nothing. It approached the spot where Thren's corpse had lain, only blood now, devoured by Damon's shadow when no one was looking.
It knelt, smearing some of the spilled blood across where its lips should've been.
A voice echoed — Thren's voice.
"Useless… after you failed me…"
It paused.
"…This makes the hunt even more interesting. I can continue to study goddess races and—"
The words stopped.
Its mouth vanished.
Expressionless, the face stealer stood and continued on its path, fading into the dark — following Damon and his party from the shadows.
