The creature snarled in a low pitch. Its golden-yellow eyes shimmered menacingly, contrasting with its dark, furry body that greedily absorbed the moon’s silver light.
Standing eight feet tall in an upright posture, its arms were long, ending in sharp, twenty-inch claws. While most of its body was covered in fur, areas like the chest and face were bare, revealing a grotesque, fleshy nose and distorted facial structure.
Long, serrated teeth filled its saliva-dripping mouth. On its back were leathery, torn wings, it was clearly vestigial. The monster looked like a grotesque blend of a wolf and some other unknown beast.
It was bizarre.
“What kind of abomination is this?!” Raven couldn’t hide his disgust. It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen, but it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching the dungeon.
The system prompt stunned Raven.
He couldn’t read the long introductory paragraph with a monster standing right in front of him, but one phrase caught his eye “a race of outwardly beasts.”
More unsettling was the penalty.
Death.
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It had never appeared before.
Was the Were-vampire hybrid really that powerful?
To Raven, the timing felt too perfect, too coincidental. As if someone were pulling strings behind the scenes, allowing him to change certain threads of the past while denying him others.
His fist clenched.
Teeth ground together.
Eyes bloodshot
Determined.
Ferocious.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he snarled. “Whoever stands in my way, I’ll strike them down.”
Blade drawn.
Shrouded in a dark silhouette pulsing with a crimson hue, he combined his Aura with
The wind swirled around him.
“Eighth Stance: Punitive Chop.”
Multiple arcs of dark slashes tore through the air.
The Were-vampire moved with shocking agility, evading the attacks with precise movements. It seemed to dodge everything, preparing for a counter,
But gashes suddenly erupted across its body.
A painful howl followed.
Raven didn’t give it time to recover. He lunged forward.
“Fifth Stance: Phantom Strike.”
Time seemed to slow. Afterimages trailed behind him.
Fast and precise, his sword flowed—
—but the beast sidestepped mid-swing.
Phantom Strike is a swordsmanship technique that focuses on temporal perception and misdirection. The user forces body and blade into perfect synchronization, accelerating movement while sharpening awareness until the world appears slowed.
To an observer, the attack looks instantaneous, as if multiple strikes land at once, leaving the enemy unable to identify the killing blow until it’s already over.
Yet the beast avoided it as if it were nothing.
The only other person who had done that was James, a feat even those at the Soul Stage could barely manage. It proved the creature’s perception and agility were extraordinary.
Frustration burned in Raven’s eyes.
To make matters worse, the Were-vampire’s wounds closed before his eyes, vanishing as though they had never existed.
Teeth bared, Raven lunged again
The Were-vampire blurred.
Claws raked across Raven’s left collarbone. He stumbled.
The blur struck again.
Raven raised his sword just in time, blocking the impact, but the force sent him tumbling through the snow.
The beast vanished in a blur once more.
Blessed by the darkness of night, Raven’s shadow power was at its peak.
He sank into the shadows and reappeared in the creature’s blind spot.
One clean slash.
The beast twisted unnaturally, bending its body in an impossible way and countering with a kick.
Raven skidded across the snow.
The Were-vampire charged.
Raven did the same.
They collided in a flash of blurs.
To an outsider, they looked evenly matched, but Raven knew better. Beneath the fa?ade, the beast was faster and stronger.
Lupin’s training proved its worth. His stats had climbed well above a hundred, allowing him to hold his own, if only briefly.
He had to think fast.
The beast was stronger, faster, and capable of regeneration. Worse, it hadn’t even used its shadow powers yet.
A punch sent Raven flying into the snow.
He dragged himself free
A claw swipe came for his side.
One slash.
An arm hit the ground.
The Were-vampire howled in agony. Blood gushed from its severed right arm as it clutched the stump with its left.
“I don’t have time for this,” Raven growled. “I’m ending it now.”
His eyes shimmered.