The plains were eerily quiet when I took a breath. My body ached from Wave 2, cuts and bruises screaming in protest, every muscle saturated with fatigue. Yet the storm inside me pulsed, sharper than ever. I had survived twice already; surviving again was not optional—it was a necessity.
Before me, the horizon rippled like a disturbed mirror. Wave 3 emerged. 4,000 enemies. Twice the numbers of the last wave. Twice the intensity.
A low, grinding roar cut through the air, carrying the weight of monsters so numerous that they seemed to darken the very plains. Wolves, serpents, rock giants, and now new forms—shadow wolves twice the size, serpents with lightning fangs that screamed with each strike, rock behemoths towering higher than the last.
This is the edge. This is real, I thought, smirking despite the tremor of exhaustion in my limbs. Time to see how much my body really wants to live.
I activated Storm Veins fully, violet lightning dancing across my veins, igniting my muscles. My wraiths—Shadow, Rift, and Obsidian—moved instinctively, flanking and intercepting attacks.
The first swarm hit. Hundreds of wolves surged toward me, teeth glinting with elemental energy. My sword swept, arcs of Judgment Spark slashing through their ranks. They screamed and fell, but more came—always more.
A shadow wolf lunged from my blind side. I barely twisted my body, the claws grazing my chest. Pain flared. I gritted my teeth, swinging Abyssstorm, tentacles of lightning slicing through five wolves in a single strike.
A molten rock giant slammed down in front of me, dust and shockwaves shaking the ground. I jumped, sword flashing, striking the giant's core as Rift tore through its flank. But another behemoth landed a glancing blow to my shoulder, making me stagger. My vision blurred.
Too slow. Must be faster. I thought, adrenaline and lightning overriding the pain. Every near-death moment tightened my focus. Every strike was a calculation.
I could feel the ground trembling as packs of serpents and wolves surrounded me from all sides. The air was thick with lightning, ozone, and the scent of scorched flesh. Each breath burned. Each dodge and swing burned calories, energy, and time.
One giant swung a fist with enough force to crush me. I vaulted, rolling across the scorched earth, scraping skin along shattered rocks. Pain lanced through my side, yet I landed on my feet, hair matted with sweat, and Judgment Spark immediately pierced through a serpent diving at my back.
I gritted my teeth, sweat dripping into my eyes. Near-death? Every moment. This is fun… in a dark way.
Shadow leapt, tearing through a wolf attempting to flank me. Rift struck down a serpentine duo from above. Obsidian blocked a strike that would have shattered my ribs.
The battle became a dance—lightning, steel, blood, and wraiths moving in perfect synchronization. Yet, the numbers were relentless. For every enemy that fell, another emerged. For every slash of my blade, two more advanced.
A lightning serpent coiled around my leg mid-strike, venom burning into my muscles. I swung my sword blindly, feeling it graze its scaled body, and Aether Conduction flared, burning the venom into sparks, which I redirected into the mass of advancing enemies.
I stumbled. One of the rock giants' fists caught me square in the chest. The wind was knocked out of me, ribs rattling, but instinct and reflex kept my blade up. Violet sparks surged, igniting Storm Veins, and I launched myself off the giant, driving Judgment Spark through its shoulder.
Each near-death moment burned into my mind. Every pain, every scrape, every strike that nearly ended me reminded me of why I fought. Not for glory, not for fame, not for anyone but myself. And yet… there was a thrill in being at the edge of death and surviving.
Hours felt like minutes. The field became a blur of violet lightning, sparks, and shadows. Wolves leapt, giants swung, serpents struck, and I moved faster, harder, sharper. My wraiths worked like extensions of my own body, but I could feel the strain in their forms too. Even they felt the edge of exhaustion.
Finally, the last wave of Wave 3 collapsed. 4,000 enemies slain. The plains were a scorched, smoking mess of scorched earth, broken bodies, and residual lightning. I dropped to my knees, chest heaving, pain flaring in every muscle. Cuts and burns covered my body. I'd narrowly survived each near-death moment, each strike that should have killed me.
The system chimed softly, glowing faintly with the weight of acknowledgment:
[Wave 3 Complete – Progress Recorded]
XP Gained: +10,000, Level Up Progress: +18%
I grinned, brushing sweat and blood from my face. "Not bad… not bad at all. But we still have two more waves." My voice was hoarse, yet there was a spark of exhilaration. This… this is what it means to fight at the edge.
Shadow, Rift, and Obsidian hovered near, flickering faintly from the battle's strain, yet ready as ever. I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath.
The storm above twisted violently, heralding Wave 4. My body ached, my limits stretched, but my resolve was stronger than ever. The plains, the hordes, the calamity itself—they would not break me.
I rose slowly, violet sparks dancing along my arms and sword. A grin curved across my lips, sharp, dangerous, and entirely mine.
"Wave 4… let's see how far you want to push me."