Xarion cursed internally as the situation around him quickly deteriorated. The beast, which had just emitted that terrible sound, now looked poised to charge again, and Xarion was still staggered from its previous auditory assault. His ears rang and his balance faltered, but his mind scrambled to regain composure.
"How could I be so stupid?" he asked himself, casting aside his earlier confidence and bravado. He now found himself trapped in a scenario that could easily spiral out of control. Finally, he activated the ability he should have used the moment he saw the strange creature.
[Race: Eyeless Shrieker
Level: 10]
"Damn it," he muttered, eyes narrowing as the information flashed across his vision. The Shrieker wasn't about to allow such underestimation to pass unpunished. It lunged at him with terrifying speed, far faster than any of the other creatures he'd encountered so far. Before Xarion could react, it lashed out with its elongated arm, striking him squarely in the chest and sending him sprawling across the rocky ground.
Fortunately, he had the instinct to roll with the impact, reducing the damage. But the beast wasn't done. It leapt, attempting to crush him under its weight before he could recover. Thanks to his new undead nature, Xarion wasn't affected by pain or disorientation the way he once was. His reflexes still intact, he rolled aside at the last second, dodging the impact as the creature landed hard, creating a shallow crater in the cavern floor where he had just been lying. Had it hit him, his bones might have shattered on the spot.
Still within striking range, Xarion leapt to his feet and assumed a martial stance, channeling all his strength into a powerful kick aimed at the creature's head. Yet the beast was quicker. It shifted, as though anticipating the attack. Xarion's enhanced senses, thanks to his recent level-ups, caught a fleeting detail: fine, translucent whiskers extending from the monster's mouth, almost like antennae. They twitched subtly in the air, likely detecting vibrations and movement. That was the secret to its reflexes, he realized.
Backing away, Xarion performed a series of acrobatic flips to create distance. He had intended to finish the fight quickly, before any reinforcements could arrive. But now, his plan was falling apart. This thing wasn't just strong; it was strong, perceptive, and faster than he had expected. The situation became even worse as he heard movement behind him.
Another creature barreled out of one of the side tunnels, its claws scraping the stone as it charged. Xarion dodged again, relying on instinct and skill. Quickly, he activated Hero's Eyes to assess the new threat.
[Race: Lesser Eyeless
Level: 6]
"That one, I can handle," he thought, readying to eliminate it first, until another creature sprang from the darkness. He barely avoided its assault, a shallow cut forming on his arm as one of its claws grazed him.
[Race: Lesser Eyeless
Level: 8]
"Another one?" he growled as the Shrieker struck again. The attack landed with whip-like force across his chest, while one of the lesser Eyeless latched onto his leg, sinking its incisor-like teeth deep into undead flesh. Xarion gritted his teeth. He didn't feel the pain, but the damage was mounting.
He had to act fast. Stomping down hard, he forced the creature on his leg to release its bite. With a swift kick, he hurled it into the path of the charging level 8 Eyeless. The two collided violently, giving Xarion a momentary reprieve. But it was fleeting.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him. Three more Eyeless emerged, Levels 4, 5, and 7, making the battle now six against one.
Xarion fought back with everything he had, but the numbers were overwhelming. Every time he struck one monster, another lunged. He had to dodge constantly, giving his enemies room to swarm him. Worst of all was the Shrieker. Its level advantage and sensory whiskers gave it an edge he couldn't overcome easily.
To his dismay, four more Eyeless entered the chamber. Ten. It was now ten against one.
"This is bad," Xarion thought, gritting his teeth as he spun, kicked, and blocked wherever he could. His mind raced for a strategy. If only he hadn't been so arrogant. If he'd used Hero's Eyes on the Shrieker sooner, he might have devised a better plan. Instead, he had walked into this unarmed, relying on brute strength and past glories.
Who did he think he was?
He wasn't the Diamond Dragon anymore, he reminded himself bitterly as another blow struck his ribs. He wasn't the world's strongest hero with unstoppable trump cards and trusted allies to support him. He was alone, wounded, and surrounded by monsters with no one coming to his rescue.
Another hit sent him crashing into the wall. His bones cracked. His body, a grey, bloody mess, slumped down the rock face. Though his undead physiology kept him conscious, his spirit sagged under the pressure.
There was no Behemoth here to shield him. No Wyrm to patch him up. Phoenix wasn't lighting up enemies with devastating blasts. And Archelon...
Xarion groaned and forced himself upright, his legs trembling as his enemies slowly encircled him. Their mouths hung open, dripping with hunger and bloodlust. His chest heaved as the weight of his memories pressed down on him.
"To think I'd have to go all out here..." he muttered, eyes narrowing.
Then, something changed.
Xarion's mind was like a calm, still sea, no thoughts aside from battle entered as he utilized a technique he had taught himself over many years. This wasn't a skill; there was no cost, no activation. Instead, it was a trance-like state that allowed him to fight at his peak without distraction. Nothing external could reach him here. Only the rhythm of survival remained.
The Eyeless were quick to react to his defiance. Seeing their opponent rise, all ten of them rushed toward him from different angles, claws bared, teeth gnashing. Xarion's eyes, now devoid of doubt, locked onto the weakest among them. It was a Level 4, and it would be the first to fall. He moved with a clarity and focus that seemed almost detached, charging directly at the creature. The others reacted instinctively, adjusting their paths to intercept him, but it was already too late.
The Level 4 pounced, expecting an easy kill. Xarion dropped low, sliding under its leap, and with perfect timing, grabbed its leg. Using its momentum, he spun on the ground and hurled the creature into another Eyeless, sending both tumbling violently. Before they could recover, he hoisted the stunned body of his improvised weapon and smashed it into a third creature mid-charge, disrupting its balance and driving it to the ground.
The improvised tactic was brutal but effective. Flesh tore, bones cracked, and cries of pain echoed through the chamber. The body he wielded was already nearly dead, its life draining out quickly. Once it went limp, Xarion discarded it without hesitation and shifted his attention.
The Shrieker hissed furiously, sensing the death of its kin. Its elongated limbs flailed with aggression as it lunged at Xarion. Rather than engage it directly, Xarion pivoted and darted behind another of the Eyeless who was still recovering from the earlier impact. The Shrieker, unable to differentiate, mistook the injured one for Xarion and brought its limb down in a devastating strike. Blood splattered as it mangled its own ally.
Xarion seized the moment. He threw the dismembered corpse at the Shrieker, coating its nose and sensory whiskers with blood. Temporarily blinded, the beast thrashed violently, trying to regain its bearings. With the Shrieker momentarily out of the fight, Xarion turned to face the others.
He attacked with an overwhelming mix of speed and precision. Every strike targeted a weak point: throats, joints, spines. Even the Level 8 Eyeless stood little chance. His body moved as if guided by memory, each motion fluid and flawless. This was the Trance, a state of being where instinct ruled, and hesitation was death.
Others had called it the trance of perfection. Xarion didn't give it a name. It was simply what he had earned after a lifetime of combat and sacrifice. But it wasn't without a cost. Blood began to drip from his nose and the corners of his eyes. His undead body was durable, yes, but even it wasn't immune to the mental toll this state took. Still, he pressed forward.
He cut them down one by one, focusing on the weakest to narrow the odds. The levels rose steadily: Level 5, Level 6. Then, as the final of the auxiliary Eyeless crumpled to the floor in a heap of lifeless flesh, he crossed the threshold into Level 7. His stats surged. Power flowed through him like liquid fire, strengthening every limb, sharpening every sense.
But the trance had reached its limits. His head throbbed like a drum, and a creeping fog began to nibble at the edges of his focus. He forced himself to stop and breathe. The battlefield around him was silent now, save for the low growl of the Shrieker, which had regained its orientation and now stood amidst the corpses of its fallen kin.
This time, it didn't rush. It opened its grotesque mouth, and from it emerged the third arm, the one with a second mouth, ready to unleash another sonic scream. Xarion wasn't going to allow that to happen again. He darted in close before the attack could finish charging. As the limb reached out toward him, he grabbed it with both hands, stunning the creature with his speed.
The monster's eyes, or rather, where its eyes should have been, twitched in surprise. It flailed its other limbs in retaliation, but Xarion now moved with the enhanced reflexes of a freshly leveled warrior. He twisted, dodged, and began to pull.
"Come on, that's not how you scream," he growled through clenched teeth as the muscles in his arms flared with effort.
The Shrieker screamed, not a weaponized sonic blast, but a howl of pain, as Xarion pulled harder. The third limb strained at its origin point, blood beginning to leak from the corner of the monster's mouth. With one final jerk, the arm tore free from its jaw in a fountain of blood and black bile. The Shrieker collapsed backward, thrashing once before going completely still.
Xarion let the arm drop beside the corpse and exhaled heavily. His vision blurred, and he collapsed to his knees, chest heaving. Despite the mental exhaustion, his level increased once again, Level 8.
The cave looked like a vision from the underworld. Blood painted the stones, corpses formed a ring around him, and the silence was more oppressive than comforting. Xarion stood, body bloodied but still capable of movement. The trance had drained him, but not defeated him.
He had won. But barely.
Looking down at the 10 unclaimed orbs of Death Essence still floating above the corpses, he sighed and collected them. Alongside them came 10 new Energy Cores, bringing his total to fifteen, more than enough to activate the Labyrinth.
Still mentally fatigued, Xarion turned to the light piercing through the stone crack in the wall. A possible exit. A path forward. With cautious steps, he approached, hoping this small sliver of light would lead him out of the Abyss.