Readying his shot, Amon took aim once more, his confidence unwavering, and fired at the massive orc. The bolt shot forth with remarkable speed and accuracy, hitting its target square on the orc's arm. However, Amon's expectations were shattered. The bolt snapped upon impact, dealing no harm to the orc; in fact, it seemed to infuriate the creature.
The orc, now aware of Amon's presence, began a slow and menacing advance toward him. The sluggishness of the orc's movements allowed Amon a brief respite to reload more bolts into the crossbow. Eight shots left, then seven, six, five shots left. Desperation set in as nothing seemed to deter the relentless orc.
Only when the orc loomed right in front of Amon did he realize his grave mistake "these bolts only work on suraimu" echoed through his head. He watched in terror as the massive club raised into the sky. Panic rooted him in place, rendering him immobile. Once again, he was reminded of humanity's vulnerability to these monstrous foes.
The orc swung its club with terrifying force, but through a stroke of luck or divine intervention, the blow missed Amon. However, the debris from nearby houses rained down upon him, causing catastrophic damage to his right arm and leg. Fortunately, the rubble shielded him from the orc's sight.
Amon gritted his teeth and endured the excruciating pain as he lay there, hidden among the debris, waiting for the orc to depart. In fear of impending death, he crawled laboriously back to his house, using three points to purchase a health potion. He gulped it down, feeling the relief wash over him as his injuries healed, leaving no trace of the ordeal.
Amon recounted his harrowing experience to Voithon, his face marked by distress and a rapidly waning resolve. "I don't think I can continue," he admitted, his voice heavy with doubt.
Voithon recognized the gravity of the situation. "It's time," he said cryptically.
Amon, puzzled, inquired, "Time for what?"
Voithon took a deep breath before continuing, "I didn't intend to present you with 'the choice' so early, but it seems you require the power. I will offer you two options, both leading to strength and power. This decision is yours to make. First, there's the Realm of Training—a grueling path that strengthens your body to become the perfect vessel for mana. However, only three champions from other planets have succeeded. The second option grants you magic—an overwhelming power necessary for confronting Dracula himself. The curse gives the choice to every champion to boost their power, knowingly that champions will struggle against monsters of the curse."
Silence hung in the air as Amon grappled with the weight of his decision. Voithon spoke again, "So, Amon, what will you choose?"