Hell Difficulty Tutorial Chapter 818 - Is that bad?

I retreat further, taking a position beside Savant just as Skreth sends Morwag crashing to the ground. However, the demon rises completely unharmed, only to be flung by the monster into a nearby lesser mountain, its flank exploding from the sheer force of the impact.

The monstrous entity, completely disregarding our presence, unleashes a torrent of bone dust, swirling around it, in a street-wide stream aimed at the mountain. The peak is scoured and ground down by the particles, moving with such velocity that their impact heat begins to liquefy solid rock.

Morwag emerges from the half-rock, half-lava debris, pushing forward resolutely even as the particles relentlessly batter and shove against him.

He takes another step, then another. With a colossal stomp, the mountain fractures beneath him, and the resultant shockwave disperses the particles, letting them drift in the air like falling snow before Skreth regains control. Its massive frame collides with Morwag’s, who withstands the blow, grapples the creature, and hurls it to the ground. He then infuses it with such power that it carves through a neighboring peak before rocketing into the distance, pursued at high speed by Morwag.

“It certainly appears so; his output has surged. Based on Weslin’s account, he's elevated his body strengthening to a level that would be outright fatal without his binding. A new right arm, perhaps?”

“How does his enhanced physique compare to your sister’s? And yes, it’s from the ninth floor.”

“It possesses greater strength, and he can sustain it, whereas Vic’s duplicate would likely shatter after a single strike. Nevertheless, it would be an exceptionally powerful punch, so after witnessing this, I must inform her that she should attempt to converse with him. But let us advance closer.”

A quick glance back towards Weslin and Brich, and then we both move with haste. Where I had previously sensed approximately one hundred monsters, there is now a swarm numbering over three hundred. Still, it doesn’t seem like cause for significant concern. The body strengthening technique Morwag is employing was developed with Weslin’s assistance, and he is among the foremost experts in such arts. Brich, on the other hand, is… well, Brich.

The battle has escalated to an immense scale, leaving behind miles of devastated terrain and vaporized mountains. And not a single participant is even a Champion. Yet, as before, I dedicate a substantial portion of my awareness to scouting the vicinity, a practice I’ve maintained throughout the engagement. My senses reach further than any of the others, and with my unique combination of perceiving mana, kinetic, and thermal energy, I serve as our most dependable scout.

“Are you well?” I inquire, casting another look at Savant. Something about his mana signature feels amiss, and upon closer inspection, I notice a wound on his side from which a creeping rot appears to be spreading.

“Not everyone possesses sufficiently potent thermal energy to incinerate it,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Perhaps.”

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 54 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 55]

[Weave - lvl 12 > Weave - lvl 13]

Gazing down at the fractured mountain, my view extends over a small, rocky valley where Morwag, still unmarked by wounds, confronts the monster. The creature is now missing several limbs and exhibits a profound gash across its chest from Savant’s earlier assault, and my own attacks have surely contributed to its debilitation. Even now, the ceaseless storm of bone particles continues to erode the surroundings, leaving behind areas polished to a mirror sheen wherever they pass, patches of which are now scattered across the battlefield.

Morwag tears off another of Skreth’s limbs and plunges it deep into the monster, yanking downwards and gashing its flesh. He follows with a fist that cracks the creature’s bone armor, striking the same spot again and burrowing his hand inside. His binding appears to be faltering, or perhaps the monster has discovered a countermeasure, as its subsequent attack pierces Morwag but fails to penetrate fully.

With a guttural roar, the demon discards his arm, slicing it free and impaling Morwag. He leaves it embedded, not even bothering to retrieve it, as he resumes his assault, battering the monster relentlessly.

Each clash is fleeting, even for my somewhat accelerated perception. If I were the me of a year prior, I would struggle immensely to follow their movements. My kinetic senses register the vibrations emanating from every strike and motion, along with the force behind each one.

Savant attempts to join the fray, but I place a hand in front of him. “Are you mad? If you intervene now, Morwag will cease his engagement with the monster and turn his attention to you instead.”

He frowns, glancing at me, yet he complies with my request and halts his advance. “He is depleting his mana, and matters are about to become perilous. Moreover, we have fought in unison until this juncture.”

“It is four question marks.”

“It is not a Champion.”

“Four question marks signify a level exceeding 450, hence its inherent danger. This is proving to be quite the inconvenience, you understand. We could have dispatched it collectively already.”

“It is acceptable. We have weakened it, and you have acquired your rot or whatever it is, so allow the poor demon a measure of enjoyment.”

“I’ll go check on the others,” Savant says and moves away using kinetic energy.

I observe him for a while, judging his use of it to be no better than a speck of sand on Lioren’s boots.

Morwag, meanwhile, continues to have fun, with more and more wounds forming on his body, but with that, his mood continues to improve. The maniac sometimes even uses his horns to attack and even bites into the monster, which has finally begun to run out of steam alongside him.

Holding two of the legs he tore off, the demon continues stabbing the monster with them, with the particles encircling them finally grinding down his skin and revealing his muscles and even his bones in places, but he doesn’t stop until the Skreth finally dies.

[You have defeated Skreth - lvl 461]

[Lvl 412 > Lvl 413]

I watch the demon stand there before he slides down and sits on the ground with his back resting against the monster’s body. When I move closer, he looks up at me, and the aggression from his eyes is already gone, replaced by his usual state of control that uses that aggression as a tool and lets it rage only when it serves him.

Even now, he doesn’t bother to remove the severed limb embedded in his body, which has otherwise slowly begun to heal. It makes me wonder how he deals with that necrosis or rot or whatever it was, but it doesn’t seem to be causing him much trouble. Is it a trait? Is his body just that powerful? Or maybe he’s using his binding energy in some exotic way to get rid of it?

“Not enough,” he mutters.

“Pardon me?” I ask, standing there near him.

“Still not enough to beat you,” Morwag says, his eyes firmly locked onto me. “I’ve developed my body strengthening and use of my primordial energy further than ever before. Day after day, training after training, fight after fight. Yet no matter how much I replay it in my head and compare it to our fight, I do not see myself winning against you as I am now.”

“Is that bad?”

He stares at me for a second or two before he shakes his head. “No,” he says, “it is not.”

Even as wounded as he is, he pushes himself back up, finally pulling the impaling limbs free and throwing them aside. “You are an opponent I respect, along with the effort you put in to stand where you stand now. I am someone who understands what that requires.”

Passing by me, he leaves towards where Savant went, and I’m left behind, musing on it all over. Then I look down at my hand. I open it, observing it, and then close it into a fist.

Shaking these thoughts off, I move towards the body of the Skreth and start looting, and that looting turns into a hurried exercise as, like a gust of powerful wind, a distant presence watches over me. Looking up, I look in its direction, noticing what seems like a burning horizon a dozen miles in the distance, quickly realizing I’m watching the movement of mana. It’s blazing up to the ceiling of this floor.

I don’t have to be a genius to tell that we have no chance against whatever is coming, so I quickly grab a few more pieces and then a bit more, teleporting and using Wraith Dance. I reach our boys’ band sitting tiredly on the ground, surrounded by hundreds of corpses, with only Brich in an excited mood and the others quietly ignoring him.

“We have to get out of here.” Something about my voice grabs their attention right away, so there are no complaints, and we swiftly head straight for the outpost. We should be able to enter easily enough, as there were still two hundred open spots when we left.

The entire time, I keep glancing back, but the presence doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, and so we pick up speed.

Once the outpost appears in sight, we all come to a stop when Zant appears in front of us as if he stepped out of the air. “I am afraid I cannot allow you to enter the outpost,” he says simply.

Right away, I drop all the loot that I took from Skreth’s body.

“That is not it, Sir Gwyn. Unfortunately, each of you carries Necrotic Rot from the wounds you received. It would spread quickly and kill many attendees and locals. This outpost’s leader would almost certainly deny you entry or execute you on sight. So I’d say giving you this warning is me showing you some goodwill while bending the rules of my current position to do so.” He nods seriously, clearly satisfied with himself.

What a good boy.

I pick up the loot again and gesture at the others to follow as we change direction and move away from the outpost, slowly approaching the presence in the distance. Right away, I start checking my body for any sign of Necrotic Rot, the little guy has mentioned, and find none.

None at all.

I see nothing damaging my body or spreading through it, and I thought I had burned it out of all the wounds I’d suffered. I can tell Savant is doing the same, as his gaze is a bit hazy as he looks into himself.