As the virtual world faded away, replaced by the cold darkness of the void, Alex Mercer braced himself for another attempt. He could still feel the heat of the dragon's flames, a vivid memory of his previous demise. This time, he had to be more cautious, more cunning.
With a sensation akin to being pulled through a cosmic vortex, he was thrust back into the Elden Realm. This time, he materialized on a stone platform overlooking the city, hidden in the shadows of a decaying archway.
His heart pounded as he peered cautiously around the corner. The courtyard lay sprawled before him, bathed in the same eerie moonlight, but the dragon, Brunhulder, had returned to its perch atop the spire.
Alex knew he couldn't afford another direct confrontation, not without a proper weapon. His virtual fists wouldn't be enough against such a formidable foe. He needed to find an advantage, an edge that would turn the tide in his favor.
With utmost care, he moved silently along the edge of the courtyard, keeping to the darkest corners. The dragon's crimson eyes scanned the surroundings, but it seemed preoccupied with some hidden agenda, its attention elsewhere for the moment.
As he crept through the shadows, his sharp eyes caught sight of something on the ground—an unmoving figure, a virtual corpse. Beside it lay a weapon, a scythe.
Alex approached cautiously, his curiosity piqued. The scythe was an elegant yet menacing weapon, its blade glinting with an otherworldly sheen. It seemed to resonate with a dark power, and he felt a strange connection to it.
Kneeling beside the virtual corpse, he picked up the scythe, and it materialized in his hands. He felt the weight of it, the balance, and the potential for both offense and defense.
He inspected the weapon's stats:
Scythe
Physical Attack: 2
Magical Attack: 0
It wasn't the most powerful weapon, but it was a weapon nonetheless—a tool to defend himself in this perilous world.
With the scythe in hand, Alex felt a surge of confidence. He knew he couldn't beat the dragon in a direct confrontation, but perhaps, with the right strategy and his newfound weapon, he could find a way to overcome this challenge.
He moved silently, sticking to the shadows as he made his way toward the dragon's perch. His heart raced with every step, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. The dragon's gaze shifted, scanning the courtyard, but it hadn't detected his presence.
As he approached the spire, he noticed a narrow ledge that led to a platform just below the dragon's roost. With a deep breath and steady hands, he began to ascend, one treacherous step at a time.
The dragon's attention remained elsewhere, and Alex found himself almost within arm's reach of the fearsome beast. The scythe in his grip felt like an extension of himself, a tool to tip the scales in his favor.
With a final, calculated movement, Alex lunged onto the platform below the dragon. Before it could react, he swung the scythe with all his might, striking a glancing blow against the creature's scales.
The dragon roared in fury, its monstrous form twisting and thrashing. But Alex was relentless, his strikes precise and calculated. He was no longer a helpless observer; he was a warrior determined to survive.
The battle between man and dragon had begun, and the outcome remained uncertain. But one thing was clear—Alex Mercer, the Faithless, had found his weapon and his resolve in the shadowy depths of the Elden Realm.