Alex walked forward with a resolve that felt different — heavier, sharper, undeniable.
For weeks he had hoarded his stolen stat points, refusing to use them. He had told himself that restraint would sharpen him, that limiting his power would refine his reflexes through necessity. Growth through hardship. Discipline through deprivation.
But this was no longer a training ground.
With a quiet exhale, Alex summoned the system interface and distributed the points evenly—strength, agility, mana—before deliberately tipping the balance toward stamina. Survival in prolonged combat would demand endurance more than explosive bursts.
He added the final two unallocated points to stamina.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Level: 39]
[Strength: 57]
[Agility: 56]
[Stamina: 66]
[Mana: 56]
[Shadow Energy: 39]
A cool blue radiance enveloped his body.
He took his first step.
The ground beneath his boot cracked faintly, dust spiraling outward as though pushed by invisible pressure.
The second step followed.
The air rippled.
Several trolls nearest to him instinctively recoiled. Their thick, greenish skin glistened with sudden sweat. Even beasts understood killing intent when it pressed against their throats.
Alex uncorked a stamina potion with his teeth and drank it in one motion, the liquid burning down his throat like liquid fire. He discarded the empty bottle without looking.
Third step.
Crack.
The glass shattered against a stone.
Before the fragments finished scattering—
Woosh.
Alex vanished.
Even the Troll Lord, towering above the battlefield like a grotesque monument of muscle and iron, froze in alarm.
By the time its roar tore through the chaos, three trolls in the rear guard had already been reduced to mangled ruin. Flesh separated from bone. Blood sprayed in violent arcs. Limbs collapsed in uneven heaps.
Alex stood before them mid-swing, his scythe carving through the final body with a brutal horizontal sweep.
Silence lasted less than a second.
Then the Troll lord road and the horde surged.
A mass of snarling bodies thundered toward him, shaking the earth with each step.
Alex did not retreat.
He charged.
At the last instant, he dropped low and slid across the blood-slick ground, rotating his scythe in a wide crescent.
"Half Moon Slash."
A massive reddish arc of compressed force exploded outward along the ground. It tore through the trolls' legs like a blade through soaked parchment.
Eight massive bodies collapsed almost simultaneously.
The battlefield erupted in screams.
Before the first body hit the ground, Alex was already moving.
Time seemed to slow.
He hooked the curved blade of his scythe around the nearest troll's neck and pulled with ruthless precision. The edge bit deep, severing muscle and vertebrae in a single, clean motion.
One.
He pivoted, momentum unbroken, cleaving another across the jaw.
Two.
A third lunged.
He stepped inside its guard, rotating the shaft and driving the blade upward beneath its chin.
Three.
Blood mist filled the air, hot and metallic. The ground became slick with gore.
A troll roared and swung a massive iron-studded club downward.
Alex twisted, the club slamming into the earth where he had stood. The impact split a stone and sent shards flying like shrapnel.
Using the falling body of a decapitated troll as a foothold, Alex launched himself upward. In midair, he reversed his grip, channeling strength into his arms, and brought the scythe down in a crushing vertical arc.
The blade embedded deep into the attacker's skull.
The troll remained standing for half a second, eyes bulging, dark blood streaming from its sockets—
Then it collapsed.
Alex wrenched the scythe free and leapt again, using corpses as stepping stones. Every movement was economical. Efficient. Merciless.
Bodies fell left and right.
Buildings at the edge of the battlefield splintered under stray impacts. Stone walls cracked from missed swings. A watchtower collapsed after a troll's blind charge struck its foundation. Dust and debris filled the air until the sky itself seemed bruised red.
Alex bled from multiple wounds.
Cuts lined his arms. A gash marked his ribs. Bruises darkened his side where a stray strike had landed.
Empty potion bottles littered the ground around him.
Yet his Nebula Healing continued to pulse faintly, knitting flesh together just enough to keep him standing.
The battle was no longer chaotic.
It was carnage.
And in the middle of it—
He began contemplating.
In my past life… I feared nothing.
He parried a spear.
I fought those stronger than me.
He drove his blade through a troll's abdomen.
And I won.
The nickname surfaced in his mind like something dredged from deep water.
Blood Demon.
This was a nickname I got by killing thousands of enemies while being dead in blood.
So what about now?
A club grazed his shoulder.
Now I was considering running… because it became difficult.
The thought cut deeper than any blade.
I swore revenge on those who betrayed me.
And yet I falter here?
The sounds of battle dimmed.
Not because the war had stopped—
But because Alex shut it out.
A strange stillness enveloped his mind.
And then—
A voice.
Soft. Familiar. Gentle.
"Alex…"
His breath caught.
It was an old man he once met while climbing the tower on the 5th floor .
"You've grown."
The battlefield seemed distant, muffled.
"Not because you never fell… but because you chose to stand again."
His grip trembled around the scythe.
"There will come a day when your body begs you to stop."
A troll lunged.
He didn't move.
"When fear whispers that you cannot win…"
The club descended—
"Fight not because you are certain…"
The world narrowed to a single heartbeat.
"Fight because your life is worth everything you have."
The club struck—
And stopped inches from his skull.
Alex had caught it.
The voice softened.
"A life that survives by running will always look back in regret."
The wood splintered in his grip.
"But a life that stands and fights… will never belong to fear again."
Silence.
"So if you must stake your life…"
The battlefield roared back into existence.
"Do it with no regrets."
The club shattered.
"Because you were never meant to die on your knees."
Alex chuckled — low and genuine.
"I see now…"
He had delayed once. And that hesitation had planted a seed of cowardice.
He had begun seeking shortcuts.
Seeking ease.
A brilliant light burst from his eyes—
Then it darkened.
The glow collapsed inward, becoming a void-like black.
The world changed.
A faint mist veiled everything around him.
When a troll lunged—
He saw it.
Not the troll itself—
But a hazy projection of its movement, a few seconds ahead of reality.
He stepped aside effortlessly.
The real attack passed through empty air.
A spear shot toward him.
He saw its path before it was thrown.
Alex caught it mid-flight and hurled it back without pause.
It pierced through a troll's chest, pinning it to the ruined remains of a stone pillar.
Shock flickered across his face.
Even in his past life, he had possessed nothing like this.
It felt… fundamental.
As though the world had always moved this way — only now he could finally perceive it.
Innate.
Hidden.
Ignored by those without insight.
Elation surged—
Then pain.
Warm liquid dripped from his nose.
The strain was immense.
His vision pulsed.
Using this ability consumed him rapidly.
He inhaled slowly.
This must end quickly.
The battlefield parted.
Heavy footsteps shook the ground.
The Troll Lord advanced.
Each step crushed corpses beneath its feet. Its yellow eyes burned with fury — and something else.
Caution.
It had seen enough to recognize a predator.
Alex straightened.
Void-dark eyes locked onto the towering figure.
The mist thickened.
The true battle—
Was about to begin.