When the death line became still and resembled something with the toughness of steel wire, rather than a flimsy red string of fate, Aren launched himself towards the monster.

The way he simply bolted forward, like an arrow, did not have Ame’s elegance, or Fang’s confidence. Aren’s presence was more that of someone hungry for battle — he was filled with battle lust or bloodlust, or perhaps both. He did not really care about what he looked like. The monster was there. He felt like he wanted this. And it felt like it also wanted this.

Aren’s lightning blade carved through the death line which still predicted his own death, and Aren felt no resistance. It wasn’t just the death line that yielded to his fragment of lightning with such ease, but the air itself felt like it moved away from him, and he felt no drag. He was sure there was air resistance, but the feeling itself was as if he was liberated of such physical concerns.

An expanding surge of electrical arcs blasted from the point of impact between the lightning blade and the beast’s elbow blade when they collided again. Even though Aren did not charge the blade with lightning energy, the pulse of heat produced by the impact and electrical discharge caused the water trapped in the earth to vaporize and escape, creating small fissures beneath them. Discarded metal debris from the days of the resort's construction vaporized under the heat and then fell to the ground, a moment later, in the form of droplets, creating a sea of metal beads.

Both were forced one step back.

Presciently, Aren defied his inertia with [Halo] and just barely ducked under the follow-up slash from the monster’s claw — which he intended to lop off with [Halo]. The claw passed close enough to Aren’s head for him to feel the unnatural coldness of the beast’s shadows. His motion began at the same moment that the monster’s did, further implying that both of them could see, feel and follow the death line.

Righting himself, and with the momentum of a spring mechanism, Aren immediately retaliated with a lightning-charged, upward knee strike, smashing into the beast’s jaw with minimal inflicted damage, but some stunning effect. This wasn’t a technique, but rather an effect of his passive, lightning-induced physical enhancement.

Aren’s lightning blade moved with such incredible speed when it slashed towards the monster’s neck that the electrical sparks left in the wake of the [Lightning Divider] resembled a lightning strike. The shadows shrouding the monster bubbled up through the immaterial cloak and evaporated, shriveling away from the brilliant light and heat of the lightning blade as a corona-like crown of plasma filament shrouded the blade under its own magnetic field.

The monster jumped back, and the lightning blade caught the stub of the monster’s severed horn-blade, cleaving through it with incredible ease, simultaneously melting, vaporizing, and severing the tough keratin-steel. The monster narrowly escaped being decapitated.

Releasing his held breath, Aren dashed after the monster, almost floating above the ground like Ame did, and he kept his opponent to within one meter of separation, not allowing it to gain distance.

The lightning blade in Aren’s hand went from producing a low rumble to a high-pitched crackle. As the frequency increased, arcs began to jump from the blade and into nearby, discarded materials from the days of the construction of the settlement, each time creating an intense explosion of sound. These arcs were three meters long, silently implying the million-voltage potential of the blade.

The humming of the lightning blade, which rattled his bones, sounded almost like a calming lullaby. Had he not been deaf, his opinion might’ve changed because the sound that the object produced was, in reality, downright terrifying.

The shadows around the monster intensified, detaching from its body and forming a ring of seven lances that seemed solid enough despite being made of something immaterial and weightless.

As the shadow lances launched themselves at Aren, he jumped off the ground, rotating in mid-air in such a way that his lightning blade formed a helix of continuous lightning arcs behind him, and produced a deep, crackling noise. The shadow lances grazed past Aren’s body, just a hair’s breadth away from skewering him to death which seemed more like it had to do with luck than ability. Where the lances grazed his skin, his clothes shriveled away, and the skin turned black.

With a final revolution, Aren extended his arm out from mid-air, swinging the lightning blade down at the monster which tried to hug the ground and avoid the lightning blade. The blade cut into the monster’s flesh, causing severe burns and traceries of electrical sparks to surge through its body, bursting blood vessels and capillaries even before the superheated blade blasted through the monster’s spine. Still, it was not enough to decapitate the monster.

Guided by the death line and Priscilla’s True Will, he poured his energy into his buffer and the lightning blade. The lightning blade’s [Fade] did not just leave a path of delayed slashing but also created an ion channel that could serve as a low resistance path for electricity.

For some reason, moments before the sequence in his buffer completed, Camille emerged from his shadow, and rather than helping, she bolted for Cassandra’s wall of fire, becoming blood-red mist in the process.

[ You have discovered a new Lightning Blade technique: Pulse ]

Simultaneously, Aren’s [Arcane Territory] deployed in front of him, while a tremendous amount of lightning energy poured into the ion channel, forming an actual lightning strike that blew off the monster’s cloak of shadow in its initial pulse. The lightning strike followed the path of the ion channel, accelerated by its own electric field. The heat pulse of energy emitted was so powerful that the grass on the ground, in a ten-meter radius, turned to ash and cinders.

[ Anathema Code violation: 207. Ignored due to Calamity status. ]

[ The Pantheon of Light frowns on your actions. ]

[ Your reputation with Ytra, Goddess of Nature, is now: Disliked. ]

Aren did not have time to ponder what violation he had just committed or why the Gods were angry with him or even why Camille decided to run, because even the [Pulse] failed to decapitate the monster, or vaporize it. Despite all that heat, the wound on its neck was closing before Aren’s very eyes, and its cloak of shadows was reforming.

Aren tucked his legs in, trying to get even just a half of one more turn in mid-air to strike again and, while he did succeed, when he looked at the ground where the monster used to be now it was gone.

His eyes followed the death line, grazing the ground and towards the wall of fire which was continuously being struck by lightning from the ceiling, which formed on the tips of the crystal formations. A haze began to fill the area, and it was made of both heat and vaporized substances.

Aren willed the [Arcane Territory], in its detached mode, to rotate around and provide a platform for him to push off. It was in the nick of time, because the very moment that he pushed off the platform, something like a horn-blade formed out of pure darkness appeared in a mass of shadows above him.

The horn-blade grazed his leg as he launched himself off the platform, knocking him off his trajectory with a minor wound and mentally thanking himself for not using [Flash]. He did not want to end up like Rider, and this time, perhaps it really was luck that saved him. Again, where the shadows touched him, his skin turned entirely black, and his veins also became discolored. Although, he barely noticed it. He didn't feel any pain, or fear, or anxiousness, despite the fact that the death line still showed his own death. He felt excitement. It was strange, but he did not question it. His brain refused to question it. It was strange, but to him, in that moment, it felt right.

The death line was difficult to follow because it was so short. Yet, with every blow he exchanged with the monster, it became longer and longer, their potential futures evolving and morphing but always with the same result — Aren’s death.

Aren stumbled as he landed on the ground and came to a stop, breathing heavily from that burst of physical activity.

Aren’s gaze locked with the monster’s grotesque one and they exchanged a look of silent understanding. Through his connection with the monster, maybe because of Priscilla’s Will and not [Arcane Predator], he understood it, in a way.

Every time the creature roared, it was crying out for help. That is why Aurora took interest in this battle — because of his blessing, Aren had to help it. Though, whether it was the monster itself, or the spirit that was crying out for help, it was difficult to say.

As a spirit, Eto — its name — desired to save Priscilla, and willingly became a demon. However, for some reason, many years later, it became insane.

Aren understood that Eto woke from its slumber when Aren first entered the Catacombs. It perhaps sensed Priscilla’s blessing, Aren’s class, or the familiar lightning blade, and desired not to save or help Aren, but to kill him. This was the crux of Eto's madness.

Thus, it possessed the monster that had been evolving in the Labyrinth for dozens of years, becoming a perfect killing machine that developed an extreme understanding of [Shadow Magic].

Ironically, as Aren had suspected, the reason why the howlers were acting so unintelligently was because they were running from this monster, and perhaps towards Cassandra’s holy light. To the howlers, Cassandra was the safest place in the Catacombs. She was also a tasty snack.

The uneasiness Aren felt was the fact that this monster was hunting him, and not the other way around. Fang was right that there was a strategy, but it was not the one he imagined where the group was slowly bled and exhausted to a safe point that was no longer safe. Its strategy was to isolate Aren.

How disappointed it must’ve been when it realized Aren could not use his class properly, or that he did not even have a lightning blade. The fact that it waited for him, and pushed him this far — even held back against him — did not seem like the actions of something that was supposedly insane.

On the topic of lightning blades, it was far different from a shadowblade. Even that short engagement changed the way he understood his class. Everything he had been doing until now was under the assumption that a shadowblade fit his class. He was wrong. He couldn’t have been more wrong. While it did seem to help, it was nowhere close to enough.

Originally, Aren thought that Lightning Blade was similar or derivative of Shadowblade, but that assumption was entirely mistaken. In theory, perhaps one could draw a comparison, but in practice, it was entirely different. If anything, Shadowblade would probably be a more specialized derivative of Lightning Blade.

A Shadowblade was a duelist and assassin that was dependent on techniques — which was how Aren was doing things until now. But this was different. Aren felt like he couldn’t even use a third of the potential power he could output, which would put him closer to Nissa in terms of role rather than Damien.

With a shadowblade, Aren emphasized technique. With a lightning blade, Aren should be emphasizing pure destructive power.

And yet, the thought of using that power against Eto did not sit well with him.

Aren lowered his head, relaxing his grip on the lightning blade.

Why did they, two creatures that both desired to save Priscilla, have to fight and kill each other here? Why should they be enemies? Why can they not be allies? Was becoming a demon really that bad? Was there really no other way?

Then the monster roared again, snapping Aren out of his thoughts. The monster kept staring at Aren’s lightning blade, probably recognizing the weapon. Even when it roared, despite its voice being so distorted, Aren could finally hear it — just barely, because he was still mostly deaf.

It was calling her name. It always repeated the same phrase, one roar at a time: Save me, Priscilla. It was difficult to hear because of the distortion, and maybe Aren imagined it, but that is what it sounded like to him.

Aren grit his teeth together, grinding them until he could feel pain — until he could feel it in his vibrating bones from the tremendous humming roar of the lightning blade. He gripped the lightning blade so tightly that his hand nearly cramped up.

He pitied Eto. He pitied any creature that saw death as its only way of salvation. Maybe because, at times, Aren felt the same way. But now, things were different. For once, Aren felt like he had a future. Now that things were going so well for him, he met a creature that could’ve been him once. Maybe he saw himself in Eto. Maybe he saw his own future in Eto.

“I will save you, Eto,” Aren said, lowering his gaze. It wasn’t intentional. He just couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. For some reason, it was heartbreaking. Aren could feel its pain, like that one time when he felt the sorrow of the denizens who were suppressed by demons and orc raiders. “I promise, I will save her too.”

The death line changed colors in that very moment, from a dark burgundy red to a brighter scarlet. Its outcome was also different.

Then the death line stopped shimmering and vibrating, becoming still.

This death line felt different. Aren launched himself forward, guided by the sudden inspiration of the death’s fate, and the monster responded in kind. The monster’s shadow cloak rippled, like waves on a still lake, then it billowed out, spilling across the burned and desolated ground of what was once a thriving resort.

Without any warning, the monster emerged in front of Aren, from the shadows, its claw shrouded in shadows. Each claw formed a long blade as it began to swing at Aren.

Aren, at the same time, swung the lightning blade at the monster, simply following the death line and its guiding effect on his fighting style. Everything felt automatic and simple, yet it also felt as if he was doing it himself. He poured all his energy into his buffer and into the [Arcane Territory] trailing behind him, blowing both of them, and sending them past recovery mode.

[ You have discovered a new Lightning Blade technique: Atom Cutter ]

The lightning blade sputtered out and then came back to life even brighter and with arcing energy that was even more violent than before. The lightning blade produced such a horrifying roar that it nearly shook Aren’s wrist apart, and made the ground shake.

The lightning blade plunged into a magnetic field that accelerated it towards its target to such a degree that it nearly ripped off Aren’s arm. When the [Atom Cutter] struck the shadow-like blades formed on the monster’s claws, cleaving through them and the claws, dissolving and vaporizing, as much as cutting them apart.

The lightning blade struck the monster’s neck and its cloak of shadows was blown away from the point of impact, exposing the monster, while forming something that resembled a corona on the other side of its body. It was the same kind of corona that shrouded the lightning blade.

The flesh, meat, and bones peeled away from the point of impact, vaporizing under the energies that were released and creating something that looked more like a crater than a cut.

Thank you, warrior. In life, I envied her sword. In death, it brought me peace.

The spirit’s thoughts invaded Aren’s mind the very moment that the lightning blade carved through the monster’s neck and decapitated it. The following [Pulse] obliterated most of its body, reducing it to ashes and water vapor.

[ Anathema Code violation: 207. Ignored due to Calamity status. ]

[ The Pantheon of Light frowns on your actions. ]

[ Your reputation with Ytra, Goddess of Nature, is now: Hated. ]

Eto’s final words stung in his heart and Aren cursed himself for not finding a different way to solve this. But it all happened in the distant past, or so Aren told himself. There was no way he could’ve done anything. Eto and Aren were on this collision course from the very beginning — from the time when Aren accepted Priscilla’s quest. There simply was no other way. It had to be this way.

With both his buffer and his [Arcane Territory] buffers out of action, and completely out of lightning energy, the lightning blade returned to its original form of a crystallized black rose and the arcane circle protecting Aren from the pulses of heat disappeared.

Also, he somehow angered the Gods again, Ytra in particular. He couldn’t figure out why. What did he do wrong?

Aren stared at the fading motes that emerged from where the monster once stood, and they almost looked like the traceries of golden light that emerged when Deucalion disappeared. He realized that it marked the death of Eto and that perhaps this was the stuff of his soul or something similar.

In a glowing crater, where the monster died, was a sword and an orange vestige core.

As Aren reached for them, he suddenly felt light-headed. The crater was hot. It was radiating so much heat that it became intensely uncomfortable. There was also a strange debuff icon that appeared ever since he first used [Pulse].

Aren mentally focused on the icon, half-expecting it to be related to the severe heatstroke he was experiencing.

[ Long-term illness: Radiation sickness. Severity: Moderate. ]

It took him a moment to put two and two together.

Excuse me? That was his final thought, as he fell to his knees, and exhaled. Then he succumbed to the heatstroke and lost consciousness.