The first blow enlightened Stark on who he was facing, while the second one sent him on a journey.
He flew backward, as the man's fist slammed into his guard, knocking him onto the floor.
Stark rose up, just in time to escape a stomp that cracked the stone ground.
The grizzly bear was a mage—an Enhancer, more specifically.
Whoosh!
His fist cut right above Stark's head, with enough force to turn his head to mush.
Stark did a backflip to distance himself from him, then struck with his dagger. The dagger sunk into his flesh, but just barely—it felt like striking a tree with a sword.
He rotated around the man's body, managing to add additional shallow wounds before jumping back once more.
Enhancers were mages who focused their mana into strengthening their physical bodies, as opposed to casting spells.
Because of this, they were incredibly fast and inhumanly strong.
Stark was not an Enhancer, but after his ascension, his strength had since exceeded human levels.
He could feel that he was faster than before and considerably more powerful, yet he was struggling.
He lifted his dagger to block a heavy slash from the man. Steel met crystal and he felt his arm shudder.
Clang!
Sparks erupted from the clash and Stark saw a part of his dagger break off from the impact.
He gritted his teeth and shifted his footing, before lunging at him, his dagger aimed at his throat.
The man lifted his cleaver to block, before driving his foot into Stark's gut.
Stark buckled, his insides crying out to him as he clasped his arm across his stomach. Before he could even recover from the first attack, the cleaver came descending upon him.
Sucking a sharp breath, he threw himself to the side, but he was not fast enough… the cleaver tore into his hand, ripping his flesh apart.
Stark held onto the wound, suppressing a scream as he rested on the wall, then ducked as the cleaver crashed into where his head once was—before sprinting to the other side of the room.
"Running like the rat you are, I see, hahaha," the man mocked, as he slowly walked towards him, each step menacing.
"Shit!"
This was why he wanted to avoid all the guards.
The man in front of him had most likely been honing his abilities for decades, but Stark barely had a few weeks of training under his belt.
He shook his arm, swallowing the pain, and lifted his dagger.
Beside him, Chubby began to glow and the wound began to slowly close.
The man cackled. He brought the cleaver to his lips and tasted Stark's blood like a crazed man, his eyes brightening as he did.
"Heal yourself all you want, I'll just tear you apart once more. Then I'll get rid of that little shit next."
Now fully healed, Stark stared at the man, his eyes sharp.
"Let's try this again."
He darted forward, using his maximum speed to close the distance between himself and the brute.
Whoosh!
He appeared in front of him seconds later, his dagger flying at his jugular.
The man did not draw back. He blocked with his arm and then used his free hand to send his cleaver at Stark's face.
Stark saw his reflection on the cold steel, the fat blade seconds away from his face.
Boom!
The ground exploded, the cleaver burrowing deep into the floor—
Stark had jumped.
He had barely escaped the attack and was now in the air, in front of the man's face.
Pushing his strength to his legs, Stark felt a slight crunch as he drove his feet into the man's face, catching him on the lips and nose.
The man staggered back, crimson liquid dripping down his broken lips.
But Stark did not end there. Once he landed, he rushed at him.
The guard staggered back and swung wildly, his blade aimed at Stark's midsection.
Stark slid underneath the blade, part of his grey hair being sliced off in the process.
Then he dug his dagger into the man's knee, twisting it to send it deeper.
Seething with rage, the man snarled and stomped down at Stark.
He managed to avoid the first stomp, but before he could retreat, his body caved as the guard kicked with terrible force, sending him slamming into the ceiling above.
Stark fell flat on his face, his body aching all over.
He coughed up blood and was about to rise when the man placed his foot on his head, pushing his skull back to the cold floor.
It was as though the weight of the world had been placed on his head. With each passing second, Stark felt like his head would burst.
His face was bruised, and blood was flowing down his skull, forming a pool around him.
Chubby was doing his best to heal, but it was not enough… if it persisted, he would die.
"A rookie like you thinks he can beat me?!" the man screamed, his face locked in a bestial snarl.
His left knee was bleeding, and his head was aching from Stark's kick, which made him even angrier.
"Have fun in the afterlife!"
The man put more pressure on Stark's skull…
Nothing happened.
He applied even more force…
Nothing… to his surprise, no matter how much pressure he applied, he could not crush it.
Then his eyes widened as they caught something blue.
"A goat?"
Something had grabbed onto his leg and was actually managing to push him back.
It was a shimmering goat-man with bulging muscles and a stern expression.
Whoom!
The guard was tossed back, and he lost balance due to his damaged knee.
He used the wall to hold himself up, then his face contorted. "What the hell?"
The goat-man stood between him and the intruder, an axe in hand.
Stark rose up, a smile on his face as blood dripped down his chin.
"I wanted to see how I would do alone, but I guess I still need some work."
His movement was shaky and his words slurred from the blood loss, but he steadied himself as Chubby went to work.
Even if he had been a mage all his life, he was still eighteen… fighting someone like him was a stretch.
But it felt good.
He needed to remember how weak he was. He needed a daily reminder of his uselessness, that way he could always aspire to push further.
He would punish himself if he needed to, place his life in death's grasp and snatch it up each time. That was the only way to improve.
Stark lifted his hand to the giant and smirked before pulling out the middle finger—then he pointed it at the hall behind him.
There was an ear-piercing howl, and the man immediately turned, but it was far too late.
He screamed in horror as the Dire Wolf pounced, his screams dying down as it sunk its teeth into his throat, ripping out his gullet.
Blood sprayed out like a fountain, bathing them all.
As the man drowned in his own blood, Stark walked up to him and picked up his spirit shard, crushing it with his palms.
The familiar invigorating energy filled him, and he chuckled darkly.
"Edward… let's find Edward."
It was in that moment that the emotional apathy caused by his artifact fell.
Anger, grief…
He could feel them perfectly well, and they only served as a reminder of what must be done.
There were many people that needed to die…
'A guy has to start somewhere right?'