Faust stared at the towering monster, his eye locked intently on the enemy ahead. Internally, however, he was not in a good state.

  His organs were heavily damaged, his bones even more so. It was hard to think, hard to stand, hard to move at all… and yet, was there even a choice?

  No. He knew there wasn’t.

  Either he fought with his life on the line, or he simply accepted death.

  Had he chosen another path, had he chosen not to come to the dungeon, would things be different? Yes. Would they be better? Maybe. But what use was thinking of that now?

  With a ragged breath, Faust took the first step forward. He moved toward the monster, bracing himself and resisting the pain with gritted teeth.

  In his hand, Iron-Beak shone with the dull gleam of unaltered metal.

  Wounded and mindless, the monster also charged. It rammed through the mud, its immense weight capable of crushing Faust in an instant.

  At death’s door, they met. They fought.

  Faust moved first, his weapon aimed at the enemy’s weak point. It was his only chance to damage it; he was not strong enough, like Chris, to cut through its fur.

  In a single motion, the monster shifted to the side, raising its arm to protect the pale flesh of its face.

  Faust’s strike failed to convey any real meaning, though the monster still bled profoundly.

  Inwardly, Faust felt resigned. Do I even need to damage it?

  He didn’t think so. The creature was so wounded that he only needed to buy time. That was all.

  However, that was a difficult task when facing something far above his level.

  In the next instant, the monster swung its arm horizontally, attempting to crush Faust’s torso and finish him in one strike. Apparently, it knew its own limitations and wanted to end the fight as quickly as possible.

  Faust stepped back, blood spewing from between his teeth as he dodged the vicious attack.

  Again, the creature moved and struck!

  Again, Faust sidestepped!

  The monster’s speed had diminished enough that dodging was no longer impossible.

  They fell into a rhythm: the monster attacking to kill, Faust dodging to outlast.

  Yet time was taking its toll on both.

  Faust was also badly damaged. Mana alone was not enough; his injuries were so grievous he needed rest, but he had no choice but to fight.

  At the same time, the beast was losing strength and speed by the second. It could not regenerate.

  This was a battle of attrition, one he was losing. He could not simply wait anymore.

  Faust had to act.

  He moved, slipping past a clumsy punch from the creature. Iron-Beak swung upward, aiming for the monster’s face.

  It landed!

  A clean vertical slice appeared on the creature’s featureless head. Dark blood followed, the stench flooding Faust’s nostrils.

  In a counterattack, the monster twisted its whole body, using the momentum to deliver a devastating strike.

  Faust was too close!

  Shit! Careless!

  He raised his weapon to block, but would it be enough?

  The answer came instantly.

  It wasn’t.

  The monster’s arm connected with Iron-Beak, sending a trembling wave through Faust’s body and hurling him backward.

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  He hit the mud, rolled, scrambled to all fours, and stood again.

  Opening his mouth, Faust wanted to say something, but no sound came. Only blood poured out incessantly.

  Before he could recompose, the creature bolted toward him.

  Blurry vision, weak body, Faust could barely understand what was happening. Primal instinct kicked in. He jumped to the side but did not dodge completely!

  The monstrous creature clipped him, sending him flying into a dead tree. He couldn’t even feel his body anymore…

  Come… on… just a bit more… please…

  Using the last ounces of strength, Faust forced himself up. He almost fell several times, but somehow managed to stay upright.

  Then he saw the monster. It was coming for him again. Was it simply ignoring Chris’s presence on the battlefield?

  Heh… targeting the weaker link instead of finishing the stronger one… quite dumb, aren’t you.

  In any case, it didn’t matter. The monster wouldn’t survive much longer, and it seemed determined to take someone with it. The choice was already made.

  Without wasting a moment, it rushed Faust.

  Faust gripped Iron-Beak with all his remaining strength, and then he screamed. His lungs burned, but he had to scream.

  And just like the monster, he rushed forward too.

  They met once more.

  Faust leapt into the air; the creature aimed for his torso.

  Iron-Beak pierced the monster’s head. The creature opened its mouth in pain.

  Iron-Beak cut deeper. The creature’s arm shot forward.

  Faust screamed as the creature punched his torso—weaker now, but still strong enough to ravage his insides further.

  He did not let go. He held onto Iron-Beak.

  “Ahhhh!” he shouted. “Die, you… fucking…”

  Using the monster’s torn chest as a stepping stone, he drove the blade deeper into its head. Iron-Beak was not made to pierce—it was meant to slash—but it was too late to care.

  Shadows enveloped Faust’s body as they leaked from the monster’s gaping mouth, twisting his senses until he nearly lost consciousness.

  No… not yet!

  He used his free hand to claw inside the open wound in the monster’s head. His fingers touched something acidic; his skin burned.

  He went deeper.

  His hand found something soft, and he ripped at it repeatedly as the creature grunted in agony.

  Iron-Beak out, then slashing like an axe, then like a blade, then like a punch—all forms of damage focused on the creature’s weak point.

  Until exhaustion took him, Faust kept attacking. By the time he stopped, its face was an unrecognizable ruin.

  His body reached its limit, and he finally fell to the ground, barely able to keep his eye open.

  What he failed to notice was that the monster had already been motionless for some time.

  It had been long dead.

  On the ground, his breaths came in ragged bursts. Adrenaline faded; agony rushed back.

  But before he could rest, a familiar sound reached him.

  “Dogs…”

  He tried to rise, but it was too late. Within seconds, he was attacked!

  A beast lunged, sinking its teeth into his leg and dragging him through the mud before letting go, leaping, and diving again.

  Faust braced, but his battered body failed him. The monster crashed on top of him, fangs snapping toward his face. He shoved his arm in the way.

  His eyes watered with pain. Snarling, he rammed Iron-Beak into the beast’s neck.

  It collapsed beside him, twitching once before going still and letting go of his arm.

  “Please… I need… to rest…”

  His tone was more annoyed and stressed than afraid.

  …Of course…

  With his damaged vision, he could only see Chris standing right beside him, looking down once again. That sight made him want to get up and slash the man’s throat.

  Chris observed the heavily injured Faust. “You did good, kid,” he said, his blade still in hand.

  He’s going to kill me…

  But Chris sheathed his dark sword at waist. Sitting in the mud beside Faust, he added, “You should’ve used your mana, though. There’s no reason to hide it when you’re only one circle.”

  Faust’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced even as his body slowly healed.

  What? How does he know I have mana… is it a bluff, or can he actually sense it? I could tell he had mana too, from the pressure he put on me. At first, I only assumed it was mana, but then I confirmed it when he used that golden energy. The sensation was the same.

  In that case, could he have sensed my mana the same way? A pressure like his? Considering his level is far above mine, that would make sense. Although it could be another method as well… but what does he mean by ‘only one circle’?

  Can I form more circles? Is that what separates strong mana users from weak ones? I can’t be sure, but it seems likely. I doubt he’s bluffing… he has no reason to, not with his strength…

  Again, too many questions. Too few answers.

  “Rest, boy,” Chris said. “I’ll keep watch until you wake up. Don’t sleep too long.”

  Like I’ll trust you… Faust thought. Like I will…

  His thoughts began to fade once the shock of Chris’s words passed. Like I…

  Then everything turned black.

  …

  In a completely dark place, a small patch of light was visible. It was shrouded in fog and mist, yet discernible from far away.

  On the ground, a strange path guided him somewhere. The path was singular, paved with brown stones engraved with symbols no one could read.

  Faust looked around. Seeing nothing, he walked forward. For a long time, he kept going. Was there even anything to walk toward?

  Maybe there wasn’t.

  But so what?

  If a path led to a dead end, did that mean it was unworthy of being walked?

  For some, yes. For some, no.

  The answer was still not engraved into Faust’s heart.

  What was worthy, in the first place? Worth is decided; it is not a matter of simply “being,” but of being chosen as. Or is it?

  Was Faust worthy? Worthy of anything?

  Deep in the fog, Faust saw a pair of eyes that pierced through the gloom. They were of an incomprehensible color, beautiful and enormous.

  The eyes seemed to move. An ethereal sound accompanied them—but this sound carried no pleasant sensation.

  It was ugly. It was dirty. It was gross.

  What was it?

  The eyes could move no more.

  Neither could Faust.

  They stared at each other for a long time.

  With each passing moment, the eyes seemed to grow larger and more revered.

  But Faust could sense it.

  The malice. The evil in them.

  A strong will! A devouring will!

  A swarm that would eat everything.

  What was it?

  That swarm would consume and destroy.

  It would feast and rampage.

  Devour and sacrifice.

  Everything.

  What was it?