The refusal to die. The fury against the injustice of being hunted. The primal desire to survive and protect. These feelings converged in Hachiman, obliterating the sharp pain, the exhaustion, the cold calculation. A pure, concentrated savagery took over his mind. His eyes, normally listless or analytical, now burned with a dangerous red light.
With a guttural roar that surprised even himself, Hachiman charged the black and green Wyvern. There was no more defensive strategy, no search for calculated openings. He stopped actively protecting himself, ignoring minor blows, focusing only on inflicting the maximum possible damage, trusting Aspháleia to endure the punishment against anything not immediately fatal. His speed, already Rank S, seemed to increase further, driven by pure adrenaline and fury. His attacks with Kanshou and Bakuya became wilder, more visceral, targeting not just weak points, but any part of the monster he could rip, cut, destroy.
The Wyvern, perhaps taken aback by the sudden shift in tactics or the intensity emanating from Hachiman, retreated for an instant. Hachiman seized the opportunity. "Trace On!" A Thunder Blade appeared, not as a projectile, but directly in his hand. At point-blank range, he plunged the unstable blade into the wound the fire had caused on the Wyvern. The electrical discharge was internal, brutal. The creature convulsed, letting out a screech of pure agony, smoke and the smell of burning flesh rising from its scales.
But it still wasn't enough. In his growing savagery, Hachiman felt another impulse, another knowledge flowing from his connection to Unlimited Blade Works. He dismissed Kanshou and Bakuya, which dissolved into light. He raised his free hand. "Trace On!" This time, not a sword, but a long, elegant spear materialized. The shaft was pure white, almost like polished bone, and the spearhead was sharp and lethal. 'White Shaft Spear...' the name and origin surfaced in his mind. 'Qin Liangyu's weapon. A spear carrying the ferocity and loyalty of its owner.' As soon as he wielded it, he felt a different aura emanate from the weapon – a fierce, almost intimidating pressure that seemed to directly affect the staggering Wyvern. The creature took another step back, its green eyes widened now not just with pain, but with instinctive fear.
Simultaneously, Hachiman felt warmth emanating from his own armor. Aspháleia, which previously glowed with a protective blue aura when struck, now emitted an intense, pulsing red glow, a visible reflection of the fury consuming him.
Ignoring the change in the armor, ignoring everything else but the monster before him, Hachiman charged again, the White Shaft Spear leading the way. His movements were pure aggression. He no longer cared about the Wyvern's blows. Claws tore at his unprotected shoulder, the tail struck his legs, but he barely registered the pain. Each wound only fueled his fury. He attacked, thrust, pierced, spun the spear with a martial skill he didn't consciously possess, but which flowed through the weapon and his own savagery. It was a display of pure brutality, a cornered being fighting with the strength born of absolute desperation.
The Wyvern, already severely wounded by the internal Thunder Blade and now facing the relentless offensive and intimidating aura of the spear, began to falter. Its attacks became more desperate, less coordinated. At a crucial moment, after a particularly vicious thrust from Hachiman pierced one of its wings, the Wyvern lost its balance in the air and fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud.
It was the opening Hachiman needed. Ignoring the blood streaming from his own wounds, he raised the White Shaft Spear above his head. Rank SSS mana flowed from his body into the weapon, making the white shaft glow with blinding light and the fierce aura intensify tenfold. With a cry that was more animal than human, he plunged the energized spear directly into the fallen Wyvern's skull.
There was a sickening sound of bone shattering and one last choked screech from the creature. Then, silence. Followed by a small internal explosion as the accumulated energy in the spear discharged. The Wyvern's body shuddered violently and then began to dissolve into black dust, faster than normal.
When the dust settled, only two things remained on the ground where the Wyvern had been, besides the large amount of the creature's blood and fluids. One was the magic stone – larger than the Infant Dragon's, and pulsing with an unusual, almost living dark green glow. The other was an unexpected object: a long, curved claw, made of a material resembling polished black bone, emanating a faint sinister aura. A rare drop.
Hachiman stood panting, the White Shaft Spear still in his hands. The red fury consuming him began to recede, the adrenaline to diminish. The savagery didn't disappear completely but calmed, transforming into something colder, more contained. A cold fury at the ordeal, at the manipulation he suspected. The pain from his wounds began to return full force now that the rage subsided. He looked at the spear in his hands and dismissed it; it dissolved into light.
With difficulty, he bent down and picked up his spoils: the strangely glowing magic stone and the black bone claw. He stored them carefully. He needed to get out of there. He needed healing. And he needed answers.
Ignoring the bodies of smaller monsters he had defeated earlier, he began the arduous journey back to the upper floors. Every step was painful. When he finally reached the ninth floor, limping and leaving a trail of his own blood, he heard the crackling sound of fire magic and one last roar of monstrous agony ahead.
Turning a corner cautiously, he stopped, observing from the shadows. He arrived at the clearing just in time to see the climax of the battle that had occurred there. Bell Cranel, with the Hestia Knife driven deep to the hilt into the chest of the imposing red and black Minotaur, stood with hands outstretched, channeling every last drop of his mana and mind into a final desperate chant. With a final, breathless cry of "Firebolt!", a blinding explosion of flames erupted from within the monster.
Hachiman saw, with shocking clarity, the upper half of the Minotaur's body explode violently in a shower of blood, viscera, and magical fire. The remainder of the creature's gigantic body seemed to freeze for an instant before rapidly disintegrating, turning into ash swept away by the Dungeon's constant airflow. Where the monster had stood, only two things remained on the stone floor: the standard magic stone, large and pulsating, and a single, intact horn of vibrant blood-red with a sinister appearance.
Beside the monster's remains, Bell Cranel stood still, almost swaying. The final effort had completely drained him. His red eyes were wide and unfocused, his body trembling violently. He had used everything. With an almost inaudible sigh, he fainted on his feet, remaining upright only through sheer unconscious willpower or the adrenaline that hadn't yet left his system, about to collapse. His pallum supporter, Liliruca Arde, rushed to his side in panic, trying to support him.
Observing the scene with expressions ranging from surprise to clinical analysis was the main group of the Loki Familia: Finn, Gareth, Tiona, Tione, Bete (with a look of contempt, but perhaps also shock at the boy's victory), Lefiya, and Aiz. They had arrived in time to witness the Level 1 apparently defeat the irregular monster that was much stronger than him.
As Lili desperately tried to keep Bell upright and perhaps administer a potion, Hachiman saw Riveria Ljos Alf begin to walk calmly towards the unconscious boy. The High Elf's intention was clear in her analytical gaze and deliberate movements – she was going to check Bell's status right there, without asking permission, taking advantage of his vulnerable state to discover the secret behind that unbelievable feat.
Something about the coldness of that action, the arrogance of prying into an adventurer's secrets – especially one who had just endured an ordeal and was unconscious – deeply irritated Hachiman. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own distrust of the Loki Familia, perhaps a flicker of empathy for the boy Bete had mocked, or simply his contempt for that kind of abuse of power. Before he could stop himself, his voice came out, not loud, but laden with a coldness that cut through the tense silence of the clearing.
"Stop."
Every head in the clearing turned abruptly towards him. Riveria halted her advance, surprised. The other Loki Familia members, Bell (still unconscious, but now the focus of attention), and Lili (startled) – all looked at the solitary figure standing at the entrance to the clearing. They saw Hikigaya Hachiman, his bluish-black armor stained with blood and monster fluids, his body visibly tense with pain, holding in one hand a magic stone pulsing with sinister green light and in the other an intimidating black bone claw. His single visible eye met Riveria's, cold, hard, and unyielding. The atmosphere suddenly became charged with a different kind of tension.