William's eyes were sharp, yet calm, his breathing steady as he intently followed every movement of the zombie guards. Their presence filled the narrow mine tunnel, a suffocating menace pressing against him, but he remained focused, his mind methodically calculating his next move.
Behind him, there was nowhere left to go. The miners had only dug this far, leaving behind a scattered mess of rubble and broken stones. A dead end. It was fitting, William thought with a grim resolve. With no way to retreat, he had no need to worry about it any longer.
He moved swiftly, his figure almost ghostlike as he floated backwards, finally reaching the farthest point of the tunnel. His back pressed against the cold stone wall. This was it. No escape. His pulse quickened, but he felt the rush of clarity come over him. With a sudden burst of energy, he leaped high, his foot striking a heavy stone weighing dozens of pounds. With a forceful kick, he sent it flying toward the nearest zombie guard, the stone cutting through the air like a missile.
It hurtled forward, whizzing with a deadly purpose.
Bang!
The zombie guard reacted with a stiff but swift motion, its limbs jerky yet precise. Its spear shot forward, meeting the rock mid-air. In a deafening explosion, the stone shattered, fragments spraying through the mine in all directions, ricocheting off the walls.
But William had already moved. With a powerful kick to the wall, he propelled himself forward, launching his body like an arrow loosed from a bow. In an instant, he covered seven or eight meters, closing the gap with a speed that would have left most enemies stunned.
The zombie guard, however, wasn't human. It had no intelligence, no fear, only a primal instinct guiding its actions. Sensing William's approach, it adjusted its wrist, compensating for the force of its earlier strike. The spear was still outstretched, and without hesitation, it thrust the weapon again with a sharp, high-pitched whistle that echoed like a ghostly wail through the tunnel.
The spear shot forward like a dragon, wind swirling around it in a deadly vortex.
William's instincts screamed at him, his sixth sense flaring wildly. But he had committed to the leap; there was no turning back now. His muscles tensed as he twisted in mid-air, trying desperately to avoid the fatal strike. He turned just in time, but not completely, swish! The spear's cold, razor-sharp tip grazed his neck, slicing through skin and leaving a chilling burn. It cut deeper, tearing into his leather armor, which barely held against the force. The spearhead pierced his side, and hot blood poured from the wound.
In an instant, William's hand shot out and grabbed hold of the spear shaft, gripping it with all his strength. His abdomen screamed with pain as the injury worsened, but he didn't let go.
With a loud crash, his damaged leather armor finally gave way, the worn straps snapping. It fell away from his body, now no more than shredded, useless rags. Clinging to the spear, William dangled for a brief moment, his body swaying like a gymnast on a horizontal bar, his feet barely touching the ground.
The zombie guard, acting purely on its ingrained instincts, immediately tried to shake him off, twisting the spear violently in an effort to dislodge him and regain control of its weapon. It moved mechanically, its movements lacking any true intelligence but swift nonetheless.
But William was faster. As the guard jerked the spear, he let go, using the momentum to swing himself up. His body twisted in a tight arc as he pushed off the shaft and leaped upwards. In a fluid motion, he planted his feet against the stone wall above, clinging to it like a nimble monkey. For a brief second, he hung there, defying gravity, before his muscles coiled tight like a spring.
Then, with incredible force, William dropped.
He came down like a meteor, his leg bent, knee aimed directly at the zombie guard's face.
The impact was devastating. His knee struck with bone-crushing force, and the guard's face caved in under the blow. Black, thick blood exploded from its ruined features, its eyeballs burst from their sockets, and the bridge of its nose shattered into a mangled mess. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the tunnel as the guard staggered backwards, its body rattled by the sheer force of the hit.
It stumbled, its spear flailing wildly as it tried to regain balance, stepping back seven or eight paces before it could finally stabilize itself. But it wasn't done yet. Despite its horrific injuries, the guard's dark senses flared as it prepared to strike again, sensing its enemy still closing in.
William raced after the zombie guard, his breath shallow but determined, his dagger flashing as he thrust it directly into the creature's neck. The blade met resistance, but William was relentless. His fingers tightened around the hilt, his muscles flexing as he prepared to twist the blade. All he needed was half a turn, just enough to sever the head from its shoulders and end the fight.
But instead of the clean slice he expected, there was a sudden, jarring clang.
William's eyes widened as he stumbled backward. His dagger had snapped clean in half, the once reliable weapon now reduced to a useless shard of metal in his hand.
"This dagger...," William muttered to himself, glancing at the jagged edge. It had been his companion through countless battles, slaying many undead along the way. The blade was scarred with deep notches, evidence of the countless encounters it had survived. But now, at this critical moment, it had finally reached its limit. His grip tightened briefly on the broken hilt before he let it fall to the ground.
"Damn it..." William cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling inside him. He had been careless, underestimated the strength of this particular guard. His mind raced for solutions. Luckily, he had trained hard to improve his physique recently, increasing his strength and endurance. If not for that, he knew he'd be in a far worse situation.
There was no time for regret. A sharp sound snapped him out of his thoughts; the tip of the zombie guard's spear whistled through the air, aimed straight at him. With a desperate roll, William narrowly avoided the deadly blow, feeling the heat of the spear's friction as it scraped against the stone floor where he had just been standing. Sparks flew in all directions, lighting up the dark tunnel for brief, flickering moments.
As William regained his footing, he noticed that the guard's movements were slower than before. His earlier attacks had worked. The creature was weakening.
Without wasting a second, William rolled behind the zombie guard, his body low to the cold, uneven ground. His knees bent, feet planted firmly, and with a sharp contraction of his core, he propelled himself upward in one swift motion. His fists clenched tight, and as he leaped into the air, he brought them down with all his strength onto the back of the guard's head.
The zombie staggered, its body lurching forward from the impact. William's blow had thrown it off balance, but the guard was not finished. It whipped its spear around, aiming a wild, desperate strike at him.
William heard the whistling wind behind him, his instincts flaring. He twisted just in time, dodging what would have been a fatal blow. However, the spear still grazed his shoulder, tearing through his flesh. Pain exploded through his arm, sharp and searing.
He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out as blood soaked through his clothes. With a powerful kick, William struck the guard's back. The force of the kick not only pushed the guard away but also dislodged the spear from his shoulder, ripping it free with a spray of blood.
Crimson droplets hung in the air for a brief moment, catching the dim light before falling to the cold, hard ground. William, his body already weakened, was thrown backward by the force, crashing to the ground four or five meters away from the guard. He gasped, tasting the bitter tang of blood in his mouth, but he forced himself back to his feet, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
He steadied himself, his body trembling but his resolve unwavering. "When two warriors meet on a narrow road, only the brave shall win," William muttered under his breath, a fire igniting in his eyes. He could tell now, this zombie guard was on a higher level than anything he'd faced before. But that didn't matter. They were both battered, both wounded, and now it came down to who had the strength to finish it.
Without hesitation, the second round began.
This time, the zombie guard attacked first, charging forward with its spear in hand. Despite its injuries, it was still fierce, moving with deadly intent. In the dark, narrow tunnel, it looked like a knight from a nightmare, rushing toward him with a singular goal, to kill.
But William was ready. He had learned its rhythm, its timing. He dodged the spear just as it came within striking distance, using the guard's momentum against it. And then, in one fluid motion, he surged forward, grabbing a fallen rock from the ground and launching it at the guard's head.
Bang!
The zombie guard's skull shattered under the force of the blow. For a moment, its body stood still, swaying back and forth as if it hadn't yet realized it was dead. Then, with a final, gruesome lurch, it collapsed to the ground.
William stood over the fallen corpse, breathing heavily, his body aching from the fight. He wiped the blood from his mouth, looking down at the defeated creature.
"Looks like I win this round," he said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
William lowered the slingshot, his hand trembling as he struggled to maintain his grip. Waves of pain pulsed through his body, a constant reminder of the battle he was barely surviving. Every movement sent sharp jolts of agony, making it nearly impossible for him to stay composed.
"I really don't want to use this magic stone," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained.
The magic stone in his hand felt heavy, not just from its weight, but from the immense power it held. It was a rare artifact, the kind of item you couldn't afford to waste. He knew all too well that once he used it, it would be gone forever, and in this world, items like these were irreplaceable.
But it wasn't just the rarity of the stone that held him back. The real problem lay in its unpredictability. Unless he could land a precise hit on a critical area; like the head or chest, its effect on the zombie guard would be minimal. And this guard wasn't just any mindless creature. Even in death, he retained the combat skills from his former life. William could see it in the way the guard moved, his agility far beyond that of a regular zombie. The slingshot's enchantment guaranteed a perfect shot, but that didn't mean the guard couldn't intercept it. His instincts warned him that the guard might deflect the magic stone with his spear.
"No," William thought. "I have to weaken him first. I need one clear opportunity for a fatal blow."
The guard was no ordinary foe. Though he lacked the raw power of some of the more terrifying monsters William had faced, his sheer combat prowess set him apart. His every move was deliberate, efficient, as though battle had been his second nature long before he was ever corrupted. In some strange way, William found himself respecting this adversary. He had been a warrior in life, and it showed.
William's respect for his enemy was brief. A sharp throb from his shoulder snapped him back to the present. He glanced down and grimaced. His body was a mess. The spear had sliced open his flesh in multiple places, and while the wounds weren't deep enough to expose his insides, they were serious enough to worry him. Blood trickled from a particularly nasty gash on his torso, staining his already tattered clothing. His left shoulder, however, was far worse. The spear had pierced it deeply, rendering his left arm almost useless. At best, he could only muster about 30% of his usual strength with that arm.
Desperate, he fumbled for the bandages he'd bought back in Moonlight Village. He'd purchased them on a whim, thinking it was better to be safe than sorry.
The bandage shimmered faintly as he wrapped it around his wounds, and the label flashed in his mind:
[Bandage: Medical bandage soaked in magic potion, restores 50% of energy within three hours, and an additional 30% within ten hours]
He'd never used one before, and in his current state, he could only hope it lived up to its promises. After all, he'd spent precious silver coins on his gear—a dagger and leather armor, both of which were now destroyed beyond use. The four silver coins he had left had barely been enough to afford eight rolls of these bandages, but they had been worth it. Without them, he wouldn't have survived this long against the zombie guard.
As he carefully bound the worst of his wounds, William felt a strange, tingling sensation. It started as an itch, almost like tiny insects crawling beneath his skin. Soon, that tingling turned into warmth, and he could feel the magic seeping into his body. His exhaustion was overwhelming; his physical condition had plummeted to barely 1.2, leaving him on the edge of collapse.
But the bandages worked. Slowly but surely, he felt his strength return. Within half an hour, his physical stamina had risen to 3.2 still far from his peak, but enough to keep fighting. Though the healing would taper off, he knew that over the next several hours, he could expect to regain even more of his strength. If all went well, he'd be back to over 6 points by the time the magic had fully run its course.
William clenched his fists, feeling the fire of determination reignite inside him. He wasn't done yet. The battle had only just begun, and now, it was time to finish what he'd started.
"Alright," he thought, a smirk creeping onto his lips despite the pain. "Now, it's harvest time."