Midnight Fireplay (4)
Thud!
The severed body of the guild master hit the ground with a wet smack. Dalen stared at it with a blank expression for a moment.
“Now they’re even changing up their patterns at will.”
He muttered, tossing aside the broken axe handle.
The guild master’s final attack.
A strike where the sword split into two, each targeting a different vital point. Dalen knew it well.
The Twin Blades of Skanden.
A skill typically acquired by joining the Southern Empire’s knight order.
It was also the signature move of the boss monster, Achilles Philemon.
In the original game, it was a last-resort, a literal deathblow.
In the game, it was an instant-kill move activated when the boss’s health was nearly depleted after a prolonged battle.
If your stats were below a certain threshold, countering or defending was impossible. Dodging was the only way to survive this conditional instant-kill move.
No matter how unbalanced a game might be, it was rare to encounter a boss monster that would ambush you with such a move while surrounded by enemies.
…Not that it never happened.
Come to think of it, maybe it happened more often than he remembered.
Regardless, Dalen realized once again.
This world was entirely different from the pixelated, data-driven realm he used to watch from behind a monitor.
He was a variable that could delay or prevent the world’s destruction.
But he could also, unintentionally, create unexpected twists and turns.
Nothing’s changed.
Yet, Dalen’s core remained unshaken.
In a world already harsh, now compounded by uncertainty, the answer was to become strong enough to crush even that uncertainty.
Though this world was a living, breathing reality, paradoxically, Dalen was born into it with unreal advantages.
He was the greatest variable, armed with foresight of potential apocalyptic events, a status window, and inheritor options.
It was too late to fear the changing future he knew.
Instead, he had to twist whatever he could, as much as he could.
In a world racing towards hundreds of dooms, if he could even slightly veer off that predetermined path…
Perhaps surviving in this world and finding a way back home isn’t impossible.
Leaving the cooling corpse behind, Dalen moved forward.
“Ugh.”
Or rather, he tried to.
“Cough! Gah!”
A torrent of blood surged up his throat, filling his mouth with a metallic taste.
His battered insides, mixed with blood, rose up his esophagus, painting the corpse-laden floor anew.
Hiss—!
Simultaneously, his heart, which had been silent even after slaying hundreds of monsters, began to pulse, pumping blood infused with the dragon’s regenerative factor throughout his body.
“Ugh! Gah…”
As his body regenerated, Dalen repeatedly vomited chunks of his insides and blood, vaguely aware of how imbalanced his current physical state was.
The internal bleeding soon stopped.
The dragon’s regenerative factor, which had quickly healed his severe injuries in the sewers and resisted the poison of the silver-masked assassin, proved its worth once again.
Though a lingering ache scratched at his insides and the metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, it was nothing significant.
With steam rising from his mouth and nose due to the dragon’s regenerative factor, Dalen opened his status window to identify the problem.
Status Window.
――――――――
Name: Dalen
Level: 6
[Strength: 26] [Dexterity: 14] [Stamina: 13]
[Perception: 16] [Intelligence: 18] [Magic: 10]
Skills: Dehaman’s Armor Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Dragon’s Regenerative Factor (C), Leap (E)
――――――――
Just two weeks after completing the tutorial.
An overwhelming set of stats that would be impossible to see at this point in a normal playthrough.
All attributes above average.
Half of them surpassing human limits.
But one stood out above the rest.
Strength.
Not just raw power, but the durability of muscles, essentially increasing defense.
In the game system, increasing strength boosted both attack and defense.
It also enhanced endurance, providing bonuses for lifting heavy objects or breaking down doors.
A god-tier stat that improved both offense and defense, with additional bonuses for various mechanics.
That’s how strength was defined beyond the monitor.
That’s why I invested everything in strength when buying initial stats.
Dalen scratched his chin.
But in this real world, the imbalance of overly skewed stats seemed to have severe side effects.
In hindsight, it was obvious.
Breaking down walls with bare fists, defying physical laws to wield weapons with brute force.
While muscles might withstand such impacts, what about the other organs?
Even with skill bonuses, expecting skin, bones, and various organs to have the same durability as muscles was unrealistic.
”…”
Perhaps Dalen had subconsciously known all along.
His superhuman senses and perception always kept his body within his sensory range.
That’s why, despite having strength akin to a giant, he had unconsciously restrained himself.
After acquiring the dragon’s regenerative factor, that restraint weakened. I might have overestimated my body’s recovery without realizing it.
He hadn’t spent the past two years leaping across rooftops or breaking walls with his bare hands.
If he had, he wouldn’t have remained a mere silver-ranked mercenary.
And in a world teeming with superhumans, drawing attention recklessly could be dangerous.
The only time he had to fully unleash his strength was during the goblin attack that Galleos’s merchant guild spread rumors about.
After tearing apart goblins with his bare hands due to unavoidable circumstances, he had suffered from a peculiar pain for days on the trade route, where there were no proper doctors.
At the time, he hadn’t known the exact cause of the aftereffects, but now, with his strength stat even higher, it was clear.
I need to be more cautious from now on.
Dalen resolved not to use his recently skyrocketed strength stat to its full potential, even unconsciously.
It wasn’t a difficult task.
This time, it was only the reflexive final blow against the guild master’s instant-kill move that caused the problem.
In other words, he just needed to avoid doing anything as reckless as having parts of his body break the sound barrier.
At least for the time being.
Once the other stats are balanced, things will change.
Higher dexterity would improve his ability to handle tools and his body.
Stamina would ensure cardiovascular endurance, bodily resistance, and recovery.
Perception and intelligence needed no further explanation, and magic offered limitless possibilities depending on its use.
Whether casting spells, mastering martial arts, or enhancing physical abilities, the applications of magic were endless.
But it’s also the stat with the most significant side effects if used recklessly.
In any case, the side effects of excessively high strength could be resolved by bolstering the lower stats.
For now, he needed to pay attention to stat distribution.
Dalen gathered the remaining blood in his mouth and spat it out with his saliva.
Then, among the mountain of monster corpses, he found a single ashen body.
[A Swordsman Mage’s Corpse]
Like the assassin who focused on strength stats, this character was one of his early attempts.
A playthrough where the randomly generated base character’s stats were heavily skewed towards magic.
At the time, Dalen had thought.
If he could combine this magical talent with rigorous training in swordsmanship, maybe he could make some headway in this ridiculously difficult game.
The plan was to rely on his flashy control skills in the early game and overpower with both magic and swordsmanship in the late game.
Of course, the result was a complete failure.
The swordsmanship learned with insufficient stats couldn’t be compensated for, even with his control skills.
That’s when I realized. This game can’t be beaten with control skills alone.
Dalen reached out. The corpse blurred, dissolving into a handful of light that was absorbed into him.
A past attempt that felt like a futile effort.
But even such a past was now an invaluable source of growth.
[You have retrieved the Swordsman Mage’s Corpse. Inheriting abilities.]
[Inheritance Reward: Magic +2, Stamina +1, Flame Arrow (D)]
Hiss…
As his stamina stat increased, the lingering pain in his body noticeably diminished.
Buzz—
The surge in magical power coursed through him, an indescribable euphoria spreading from head to toe.
And then, a new skill.
[Flame Arrow (D)]
‘Ignel Rot.’ A spell from the Ignella Tower of Mages, the sacred ground of pyromancers. It transforms magical energy into flames, which can be shot like arrows.
Proficiency: 2%
For the first time since arriving in this world, he acquired the knowledge of a spell. His superhuman intelligence began to dissect and organize it in his mind.
With a smooth motion, Dalen extended his hand.
Unlike usual, he relaxed completely, letting his palm face the sky.
And he felt it.
Not as a tangible sensation, but as a different kind of awareness, a magical breeze tickling his skin.
In this world where magic exists, the wind of magic flows through nature, and any living being with magical sensitivity can sense and grasp its source.
Whoosh—
His heightened magical sensitivity and control, derived from his increased power, caught a strand of the breeze passing over his palm.
With half-closed eyes, he wrapped that strand, adding a slight distortion to the realm of reality.
“Ignel Rot.”
With a brief incantation, he imbued the distortion with an image.
Fwoosh!
A fist-sized flame blossomed in the air above his palm.
Watching the fireball burn, fueled by his magic, Dalen grinned.
With no landlord to complain, it was time to play with fire.
Huff. Huff.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His entire body felt as heavy as if it were weighed down by lead.
Clang! Clang!
The steel armor that usually felt so reassuring now pressed down on his shoulders like a burden, and his grip on his spear and shield was weakening.
“Ugh, ah!”
Yet, Guard Pelton gritted his teeth.
If he fell, his comrades would die.
The fellow soldiers standing by his side were likely enduring with the same thought.
Roar!
A monster charged at him. Pelton raised his shield.
Bang!
The creature collided with the steel shield. Despite the jarring impact, it refused to back down.
Grrr!
Its mangled nose and bloodshot eyes loomed close. Pelton thrust his spear.
The moment when the tedious, grueling training paid off.
Thud!
The spear pierced through its neck.
Thwack!
Only after being struck again by the shield and having its head severed did the creature collapse to the ground.
“Huff! Huff! Huff!”
Gasping for breath, Pelton lifted his head defiantly.
Flames roared!
A five-story building, unusual for a back alley, was ablaze.
The warehouse of the Telia Trading Company was on fire.
“Keep pushing! Don’t let a single cultist escape!”
The platoon leader on horseback shouted orders.
In truth, Pelton couldn’t make sense of the situation.
Why were they suddenly stationed near the back alleys, where they usually didn’t even patrol, under the pretext of preventing winter fires?
Strangely, just as the warehouse caught fire, ten squads of guards rushed to put it out.
As he began to question why hundreds of soldiers were needed to extinguish a single building’s fire, masked assailants and monsters ambushed them.
Commanders, as if waiting for this, started shouting about eliminating cultists and securing evidence.
‘Damn it! I don’t get it!’
The chaos was incomprehensible.
Pelton decided to stop thinking altogether.
A foot soldier only needed to follow orders. His fellow guards likely felt the same.
“Attack!”
“Charge!”
“Father Powell, guide us!”
At the platoon leader’s command, the soldiers formed ranks and advanced, their shouts mingling with cries and prayers.
Despite the casualties, the trained guards held their ground.
The number of monsters wasn’t overwhelming, and most were just thugs with swords or armed masked men.
Moreover, the enemy seemed disorganized, often charging recklessly or fleeing.
The foot soldiers appeared to lack a proper command structure.
“Die, damn it!”
A masked assailant charged. The torchlight glinted off his blood-stained golden mask.
“Argh!”
A fellow soldier thrust his spear into the attacker’s shoulder, but the assailant, unfazed, pushed forward with a scream.
“Ugh!”
The soldier’s hand was severed, and he fell, stabbed in the stomach.
Pelton instinctively raised his shield, but the assailant’s immense strength knocked him backward.
“Ugh!”
A brush with death. The assailant’s sword gleamed in the torchlight.
As he braced for the end, closing his eyes tightly—
Whoosh—!
Thud!
A sound of something bursting, and hot liquid splattered over his face and body.
”…?”
Opening his eyes in bewilderment, the first thing he saw was the headless body of the assailant.
And beyond the collapsing figure, silhouetted against the burning building, was a man on the fifth floor.
A large hole in the outer wall, and the man stood there as if he had just thrown something.
”…What?”
Pelton’s expression turned to shock as he noticed the spear embedded at his feet, the one that had burst the assailant’s head.
And moments later—
Whoosh! Crash!
Whoosh— Thud!
Similar events began unfolding across the battlefield.