The new idea was not a grand strategy, but a simple, brutal imperative: maim the hand.
I awoke with the thought burning in my mind. For countless cycles, my focus had been on the creature's sword or the gaps in its armor. I had been playing a game of survival, but my opponent had been playing a game of attrition, confident in its ability to outlast me. The red potion was its ultimate defense, and the hand that reached for it was the key.
My body felt different again. Stronger. The EXP was accumulating, hardening my flesh, quickening my reflexes. I could feel it in the way I balanced on the balls of my feet, in the effortless way my sword felt in my grip. I was becoming a weapon, tailored for this singular purpose.
Much like it had before, it walked towards me, but this was a game that I understood too well at this point. I almost wished it would just run at me, but alas, each new time I awoke it would approach me in the same manner. I, however, seemed to be the only one that changed.
I let it come. The dance was second nature now. Dodge, weave, wait. I needed to wound it to trigger the healing response. I let its first four swings pass, each one a hair's breadth from my skin. On the fifth, as it paused to recover, I lunged. My blade was a silver streak, aimed not at the gap in its neck, but at a seam in the armor near its thigh. The sword bit deep, and the creature roared in pain and surprise.
As expected, its left hand immediately dropped from its sword hilt and moved towards the leather pouch at its hip. This was the moment. I did not retreat. I pushed forward, my own sword still embedded in its leg. As its gauntleted fingers fumbled for the pouch's flap, I brought my free hand up, grabbing its wrist with all my newfound strength.
"When have enemies been allowed to stop us... from healing?" I could hear the panic in its voice. I cared not for its whimperings as I clung to the loose hand trying desperately to reach for the pouch's contents. I removed my sword from its thigh. I raised my arm out at an almost impossible angle, then brought it forward through the small gap at its throat.
The same satisfying red mist sprayed outwards and onto me. I allowed it to soak into my skin. I could hear the metal beast gurgle at my feet.
Player 547689 eliminated. 500+ EXP
I could feel my life force increase after these words. Typically, the words were quickly followed by my death. This feeling was... electrifying. As I was relishing in my victory, I could hear the sound of stone on stone grinding. I quickly turned and watched as the door that sealed me here was finally opened.
My journey was finally beginning.
I walked steadily toward the door, awaiting any would-be villains. My sword hung limply at my side, but ever ready to be swung at a moment's notice. The air that flowed from the opening was cool and clean, a stark contrast to the stale, metallic tang of my former prison. Each step was deliberate, my senses on high alert after countless cycles of violence.
As I crossed the threshold, the darkness of the new chamber was instantly banished. Two torches, mounted on either side of the doorway I had just passed through, flared to life with a soft whoosh, their flames burning brightly and without a flicker. They cast a warm, steady glow across a much larger room.
In the center of the room, I saw a beautifully robed woman standing atop a dais. Her robes, the color of midnight, swam elegantly against the curves of her body, embroidered with silver thread that seemed to shimmer like starlight in the torchlight. Her face was serene, framed by long, dark hair, and her eyes were closed as if in peaceful contemplation.
My threads tugged. My heart, an organ I hadn't truly felt before, swooned.
She's... gorgeous.
She was the first being I had seen that wasn't my armored tormentor. She radiated an aura not of hostility, but of immense power and calm. My sword hand, which had been tensed for a fight, relaxed. This was not an enemy. This was something else entirely.