Part Ten

“He’s done quite well for himself. Few mortals would be able to handle constant battles with the enemies inside the city, let alone seek them out as he has done. Most would break under the strain, or warp beyond recognition.”

The watcher was continuing to observe Michael, following his every move and thought. Even things Michael didn’t consciously think weren’t exempt from the watcher's gaze. Fortunately, the being was pleased by everything it had seen, and was almost looking forward to how Michael would overcome the ordeal before him.

“Hm, he’s finally found the first ordeal. How will he deal with the Infinite Space enchantment? The only Magic he’s used is Grudge Magic, so perhaps he’ll try to use [Energy Drain]. Or perhaps he’s been hiding other spells for emergency use. Hmmm.”

To a being who spent most of their time stuck within an endless darkness, even watching a mortal far weaker than them was entertaining. Even though a spell on that level was basically no better than wet paper to it, the being never grew bored of seeing mortals struggle with it.

“Hm? Did he give up? No, he hasn’t. What’s he doing?”

The being was quite puzzled when Michael left the cathedral, though they grew even more confused when he began butchering a Zombie he caught and brought its truncated torso back with him. At first, he thought Michael may be trying to use some obscure form of Necromancy, but when he threw the zombie, destroying the altar powering the spell, well…

“…!? Wha…bwa…bwahahahahahahaha! Well, that would certainly work! Bwahahahaha!”

In all the millennia the watcher had been conducting this Trial, no one had ever cleared this particular part like that. There were more than a few who’d destroyed the altar with ranged attacks, but none who’d used entirely physical means to do it. Even thinking of doing it was quite bizarre.

“Hahahahahah. I cannot tell if it was a conscious decision on his part, luck, or if his intuition kicked in, but that is perhaps the easiest to deal with the spell. Hm, perhaps I should put a countermeasure in place. Novel ideas are only amusing the first time, after all.”

The spell in the cathedral was a composite Space and Dimension Magic Spell that forcibly kept one from progressing past a certain point. It was a pretty powerful spell, but it had a few weaknesses. For one, the area it affected was pretty small, and it was limited to stopping lifeforms. Magic or physical projectiles were unaffected.

To compensate for this, the altar had been made of a material that basically nullified magic, rendering even the force of spells nulled. Regardless of how powerful a spell one could cast, very few would actually have any effect. The proper way to clear the spell was to continue walking towards the altar for an entire hour, causing the spell to deactivate and allowing Challengers access to the catacombs below. So by throwing the torso of an Undead at it, Michael had basically found an exploit in the rules, even if he didn’t know.

But despite the fact that Michael had basically cheated his way through a part of the Trial, the watcher wasn’t displeased. In fact, it was exuberant. Finding loopholes and exploiting weaknesses were all fair game as far as it was concerned, and turnabout is fair play. It wouldn’t complain about something of this level.

Eager to see what he’d do next, the watcher focused on Michael as he began the main part of the first ordeal. Inside the catacombs were a series of battles designed to test not only one’s combat potential, but also their ruthlessness and decision making. And on both of those counts, Michael performed splendidly.

The first chamber was filled with a group of Lesser Seraphs, which possessed the appearances of human children. Even though no one who’d gotten this far would ever believe them to be actual children, a number of Challengers had been wounded because they’d lowered their guard, allowing the Seraphs to fire their arrows before they were ready.

And while Michael had appeared confused at first, he quickly shifted into battle mode as soon as the Seraphs revealed their true colors. Even the way he killed them was splendid, as many would hesitate to use a spell like [Malignancy] on creatures that appeared to be children. Honestly, if the watcher didn’t have to follow the System's protocol, they would give the Dungeon's reward to Michael immediately following that.

And the fights after that one only reinforced that sentiment. Granted, he had yet to reach the first Mid-Boss, so this could end up being premature.

***

“Saaaaaaa…..”

“Fucking finally. Pain in the ass monsters.”

I’d fought my way through almost twenty of these chambers, each one containing a group of monsters for me to fight. The one I was currently in had held over a dozen large reptilian monsters, each one annoying in its own way. They’d all been different species, and dealing with their unique abilities had been a gigantic pain in the ass.

The other chambers had been bad too, but this one was just on a different level. Most had just been straight up fights, with very little difference aside from how the monster fought. But the reptiles' abilities had kept me on my toes, especially the Basilisk. Petrification didn’t sound fun.

Okay. Let’s hope this last one is it, or I’m gonna drop dead sooner rather than later. If it hadn’t been for my familiars, I would’ve needed to take breaks every couple of fights to let my mana replenish. But since they were around, I was able to use them to deal with some enemies, reducing the burden on my mana pool. Though my mental faculties were still taking a hit. I’d need a break after this next fight, which would hopefully be the last.

Upon pushing open the next door, I immediately realized that my wish had been granted. All the previous chambers had been rather small, being just big enough for me to fight whatever monsters were inside. But this one was huge, and extended past the light of my lantern. It was more of a hall than a room, and the columns on either side of the door created a pathway of sorts for me to walk down.

This…is probably it, isn’t it? I’m willing to bet the Mid-Boss is waiting for me at the other end of the room. Well, let’s not keep it waiting.

The walk to the other end of the hall felt like it took an eternity, though it was likely less than a minute before the light fell on a figure sitting on a chair. I almost called it a throne at first, but it wasn’t quite so grandiose. It more or less looked like one of those high-backed chairs you’d see nobles sitting on in movies set in medieval Europe. Very ostentatious, though the same couldn’t be said for the figure.

While they wore black armor, there were small gaps here and there, like the armor was ill-fitting, that revealed pale, dried-out skin. That, combined with the stench of death and the Miasma floating from it, let me know that it was an Undead before me.

Death Knight

Rank: B

Description: Unlike other “Knight" Undead, Death Knights are not naturally-occurring Undead, but are instead created via Necromancy. Designed to serve as their creators' shields, each Death Knight is imbued with knowledge of swordplay and combat techniques that, when combined with their Undead nature, makes them fierce foes.

Almost as if it had been waiting for me to Analyze it, the Death Knight let out a shuddering groan before rising from its chair. While I couldn’t see its eyes through the helm it wore, I knew they were locked onto me as killing intent flooded the room, far more intense than anything I’d felt up to this point.

I countered with my own fighting spirit, causing the Death Knight to stiffen up temporarily, before reaching back to unsheathe its weapon, a claymore. Given the weapon's weight and size, combined with the unnatural strength of the Undead, it would be a grave mistake to try blocking any of its blows. I’d need to either dodge or parry it. Directly blocking would be a mistake.

The two of us stood there for a moment, neither willing to make the first move. And then…

*CLANG! Clang, clang clang, clang!*

With nary a twitch or any other indicator that it was about to attack, the Death Knight flew at me, beginning its offensive. The first blow was extremely heavy, and I barely managed to turn it away in time, causing it to plow into the floor. Unfortunately, the Death Knight merely yanked the sword back out, preventing me from exploiting any openings.

After that, it changed tack to favor smaller, easier to control swings, though each one wasn’t exactly easy to deflect. Honestly, I found that odd. The Knight was using both hands to swing its sword, meaning it could’ve put a great deal more strength into each swing, so why didn’t it do that? It could’ve overwhelmed me easily if it kept that up. Though, it was just as likely that I’d counter it eventually, dealing a critical blow.

Don’t tell me it realized that from one exchange! How the hell am I supposed to kill something that can read me that easily!? This…this is gonna be hard, isn’t it?

I knew that I wasn’t exactly skilled with my swordsmanship. Heck, I was basically just doing the same three or four things over and over. And yet they worked, if only because most of my enemies had been mindless beasts incapable of reasoning or thought.

Unfortunately, the Death Knight possessed the skill and technique required to pick me apart. If I was careless, it would easily overwhelm me even while holding back like it was. And since it was a tireless Undead, I couldn’t keep this up forever. Both my mana and stamina were limited, and I was already starting to run low on the latter. I needed a way to overturn the board.

Since it’s an Undead, I could do that, but it would likely manage to avoid or counter right now. I need a way to weaken it, even if only temporarily.

With how it’s pressing me, I don’t have the wherewithal to use an item, and I already know Grudge Magic is ineffective against the Undead. None of my other Skills or equipment can do what I need… no, there is one, but I swore to never use it again. And I doubt it would work here. The Death Knight will just pick me apart once I go berserk. Wait….I’ve got it.

*Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang*

The way the Death Knight kept pressuring me reminded me of a movie I once saw where the protagonist had worn away at his opponent’s sword by striking the same place over and over. While I couldn’t replicate that level of skill, I did have a sword with a rather handy feature.

Hehehehe, okay. I just need to time this right. I want to cut off the blade and keep it from impaling me when it flies off. If I do this right…NOW!

I waited until the Death Knight thrust its sword towards me, sidestepping the blow while simultaneously slashing the white sword near the hilt. Having been charged with mana, the blade cut through the other sword like a hot knife through butter, and the momentum from the thrust caused the cut off part to go flying. It was a beautiful execution, but it wouldn’t be enough to end the fight.

Almost the second it realized what happened, the Death Knight let go of the now-useless hilt of its sword, and swung its fist at me, delivering a heavy blow. Without the heavy claymore, the punch had been so fast I couldn’t react in time, leaving me vulnerable to further blows.

Despite the fact that it was an Undead, the Death Knight could punch hard. Each blow from its gauntleted fists hurt, and I swear I felt a rib crack on a particularly hard punch to the chest. By the time my thoughts caught up with reality, I’d already received a dozen blows, though they wouldn’t affect the outcome of the battle.

I managed to shove the Death Knight backwards, kicking it onto its back at the same time. With its heavy armor, getting up wouldn’t be an easy task, and I wasn’t going to give it the time it needed. With it as defenseless as a baby turtle, I thrust one of my swords underneath its helm, piercing right through the top of its head, though the damn thing had the audacity to not die. It thrashed about, trying to push me off of it. Unfortunately for it, I had a backup plan.

“Ash, dinnertime.”

At my command, black tendrils of Miasma crept out of the shadow underneath us, coiling around the Death Knight. It must’ve realized what those tendrils were, as it began thrashing even harder than before, but to no avail. Once Ash had a victim in its grasp, there would be no escape. The Death Knight’s futile struggling continued for several minutes, until all that remained was ash. Regular ash I mean, not my familiar. You know what I meant.

With the Death Knight dead, the room shook as flames began to appear all along the walls, finally banishing the darkness. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to enjoy it, as a wave of exhaustion and pain overwhelmed me. Using too much mana at once was finally catching up to me. I’d need to rest for a few minutes before I could explore the rest of the room, as well as the glorious treasure chest that had appeared in place of the chair.

….okay, I might need more than a few minutes. Owwwwww.

***

Sometime later, once I finally stopped feeling like I’d die, I got up to check the chest that appeared, discovering two items inside of it. One was the key I’d come here to get in the first place, but the other caught me slightly off-guard.

Knife of Corrosive Hate

Rank: C

Effect: Slight increases to Dexterity and Agility

Description: A knife forged from the broken shards of a fallen knight's blade. Having failed to defend their master, the knight's last regrets have been sealed into the metal, causing it to drip with a thick, acidic liquid whenever it is imbued with mana. It also holds a curse, though the effects don’t seem to be apparent.

Upgrade Requirement: One Kilogram Vile Ore

Heart of a Schnera Viscera

Uh, no thanks? This…is clearly my fault, isn’t it? …I’ll just put this away for now, and pretend I never saw it. I’ve got enough cursed shit going on right now, and this thing gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Now, how do I get out of here?

***

On the whole, the being was pleased with Michael’s performance. And yet, they couldn’t help but feel some small dissatisfaction. As things stood, Michael would never be all that he could be. Something was holding him back, but the being was unable to fix the problem on their own. Fortunately, it knew of someone who could.

“Come Azanorn, you have work to do.”