"System Notification: Congratulations for killing the Twin-headed Alpha. Rewards: 7000 EXP."
The chime was a sweet symphony. Combined with the 6300 EXP from the eighteen Savage Wolves, Tony's experience bar surged to 28,500 out of the daunting 100,000 required for Level 10. The path was long, but he was carving his way through it.
He pulled up his status panel, a sight that would have induced cardiac arrest in any other player. The purification from the Box of Heaven and Earth had granted him a colossal +20 to all attributes and +200 HP. The subsequent Soul Refining had further sharpened his mind and body, adding +10 to Intelligence and Constitution. Distributing his 10 free attribute points into Strength and Agility had forged him into a statistical monstrosity.
[Name: Mad Demon] (Swordsman)
Level: 09 (28,500/100,000)
HP: 1100
MP: 114
Strength: 45
Agility: 45
Constitution: 42
Intelligence: 38
Vitality: 30
He now possessed the HP pool of a dedicated Guardian Knight, the raw power of a top-tier Berserker, and the speed of an elite Thief. This was the foundation of his audacity. This was why he dared to challenge Nightmare.
His confidence solidified into unshakable conviction as he inspected the loot from the fallen Alpha. The spoils were nothing short of INSANE.
[Blood Crossbow] (Gold)
Requirements: Level 7
Attack +21, 10% Armour-piercing Effect, deal 10% additional bleed damage every second for 5 seconds,
Additional skill: Triple-shot, have a 30% chance to inflict cripple status effect.
Cooldown: 1 minute.
[Divine Shield] (Gold)
Requirements: Level 7
Endurance +20, Health Points increase by 150 points, Parry Chance: +27%
Additional skill: Eject: push the user or the enemy 20 yards.
Cooldown: 10 minutes
[Wolf Fang] (Gold)
Requirements: level 7
Strength +25, Agility +25
Have a 0.2% chance of instant-kill the enemy.
[Cloud Boots] (Gold)
Requirements: level 7
Defence +15, Movement Speed +30%
Additional skill: Flying Cloud: increase agility by 120% for 5 seconds in the first 2 seconds can't be touched.
Cooldown: 10 minutes.
[Flame Wave] (Special skill)
Summon a wave of flames for a 10 by 10-yard area-of-effect attack for 5 seconds. Damage is based on Intelligence (x3)
Cooldown: 30 minutes
[Water Breathing potion]
Allows the user to breathe underwater. Once drunk, for 30 minutes.
Cooldown: 6 hours.
[Potion of Strength] (basic)
Create a potion that Increases the player's melee attack damage by 30% for 30 seconds.
Cooldown: 5 hours
He was a walking treasure vault. If the guilds outside had any inkling of the wealth a solo player was amassing, their jealousy would spark a war. Tony learned [Flame Wave]—a skill outside his class but too valuable to ignore—and felt the power of the [Cloud Boots] settle into his bones. After a moment of recentering, he approached the stone archway that had materialized after the boss's death, its frame swirling with ominous energy.
The second level of the dungeon was a smaller, more claustrophobic version of the first—a wild plain under a blood-red sky. The moment his feet touched the coarse grass, every hair on his neck stood on end. A primal instinct, sharper and more urgent than any he had felt before, screamed a single command: MOVE!
He didn't think; he reacted. "[Flying Cloud]!"
The world blurred. He became a streak of motion, propelled by 120% increased agility. In the two seconds of blessed invulnerability, he heard the sickening shhhink of multiple claws tearing through the air—and the dozen afterimages he left behind. The initial ambush, designed to obliterate him the moment he arrived, had failed by a fraction of a second.
He ran for his life, the five-second duration of the skill feeling like an eternity. Yet, the feeling of imminent death clung to him like a shroud. The moment the skill's effect faded, they were upon him. A pack of twelve wolves, their fur the color of dried blood, surrounded him with silent, chilling efficiency. There was no escape.
"What the actual hell?" Tony cursed, his eyes darting between the beasts. The system hadn't just placed him in a dangerous area; it had dropped him directly into a killing zone. Without the boots' invulnerability, he would have been a ghost.
[Blood Wolf] (Special Elite)
Level: 7
HP: 5000
Skills: Blood Claw, Glory, Blood Sacrifice
The most cunning type of wolf.
Cunning was an understatement. They didn't growl or snarl; they communicated with subtle shifts in posture, their glowing red eyes locked on him. Their plan was simple, brutal, and effective: overwhelm him through sheer, coordinated numbers.
Tony became a whirlwind of defense, parrying a claw from the left, twisting to avoid a lunge from the right, only to feel searing pain across his back as a third wolf's [Blood Claw] found its mark.
*-230!*
In just ten seconds, his health plummeted, his HP bar a sliver of red at a desperate 130. He was on the brink.
And he was smiling.
A manic, exhilarated grin split his face. This dance on the razor's edge between life and death was his purest addiction. The Blood Wolves, sensing his impending doom, slowed their assault, their expressions seeming to twist into sneers of contempt for this foolish human who thought he could face them head-on.
Their contempt turned to confusion as Tony's hand flashed to his belt. He pulled a vial filled with a vibrant, emerald liquid and drank it in one gulp.
[Regeneration Potion] (Advanced) - Restores 100% HP over 10 seconds. Cooldown: 3 hours.
It was one of his trump cards, looted from the Lone Peak Mountain. Life flooded back into his virtual veins, his HP bar refilling in a steady, visible surge.
"Stupid wolves!" Tony roared, his voice echoing across the plain. "Let's begin the second round!"
He abandoned all pretense of defense, entering a controlled frenzy. He traded blow for blow, his blades a constant storm of retaliation. The wolves, taken aback by this sudden reversal from prey to predator, found their confidence shifting to unease. For nine glorious seconds, no matter how deep their claws cut, his health would instantly rebound. In that time, he carved away over 1000 HP from each of his twelve adversaries.
As the potion's effect waned, a spark of pure inspiration, a gift from his refined soul and heightened perception, ignited in his mind. His Formless Art, a style built on adaptability and flowing unpredictability, had always leaned towards evasion and offensive improvisation. But now, faced with an inescapable storm of attacks, his mind conceived a defense.
He stopped trading hits. His movements shifted. His twin blades began to weave around him, not in wild slashes, but in precise, economical arcs. He was no longer just attacking; he was creating a sphere of influence, a personal territory of steel. He focused on deflecting, not blocking, using the flats of his blades to redirect the force of the wolves' blows, minimizing the stamina cost.
As he refined the movements, the defensive sphere enlarged and solidified. He could now intuitively intercept roughly 30% of the attacks coming from any angle.
Then, it clicked.
The individual arcs of light from his swords began to connect, flowing into one another until they formed a shimmering, barely visible barrier around him—a cascading dome of sword energy. He wasn't just deflecting; he was creating a true [Sword Barrier]. When a wolf lunged, his blade would strike not its body, but the joint of its attacking limb, altering its trajectory. As the beast was forced past him, off-balance, his other sword would lash out, striking a vulnerable flank for a clean -200 damage.
He was no longer fighting them; he was conducting them. The exhausting task of dodging a dozen foes became a manageable exercise in precision and flow. His blockage rate climbed to an astonishing 50%. The Blood Wolves' coordinated assaults devolved into frustrated, clumsy attacks as their prey flowed through their formations like water, his blades a constant, stinging rebuttal.
Twenty minutes after the battle began, the last Blood Wolf fell, its body dissolving into light after a futile [Blood Sacrifice] that made it stronger but no less helpless against Tony's perfected defense.
"I'm falling in love with this game more and more," Tony breathed, slumping onto the grass, his chest heaving not from fatigue, but from euphoria. He replayed the battle in his mind, his expert-level processing speed analyzing every parry, every deflection. The bottleneck that had plagued his Formless Art was shattering.
"[Sword Barrier]," he named it, a surge of profound pride washing over him. To forge a defensive technique within the formless framework was a milestone his master would be eager to hear about.
His moment of triumph was shattered by a sound. It was not the pad of paws, but the heavy, deliberate crunch of something massive approaching. Tony turned, his body instantly coiled tight.
Emerging from the crimson haze was a wolf that dwarfed the others. It was twice the size of a lion, its fur a deep, arterial red that seemed to drink the light. Its eyes held not just bestial fury, but a chilling, calculating intelligence. And on its monstrous muzzle was stretched a cruel, unmistakable smile.
The sight sent a terrifying chill, deeper than any game mechanic, straight down Tony's spine.
AOOOOOOOOOO!
The mighty roar that followed did not just hit his ears; it hammered his very soul, shaking the plain to its foundations. The system identification, when it came, was a death knell.
[Blood Wolf King] (Lord)
Level: 7
HP: 15000
Skills: Claw Tempest, Mighty Roar, Blood Sacrifice
A Lord-class monster. The true master of the Den had arrived.