Kale steadied himself as the elite reinforcements closed in, their disciplined march echoing like thunder across the battlefield. Unlike the chaotic masses he had just fought, these new opponents moved with cold, calculated precision. Their armor gleamed under the dim, war-torn sky, reflecting the flames of battle still burning around them. Each step they took seemed to shake the earth, and Kale could feel the weight of their combined presence bearing down on him like a mountain.
His heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged and uneven. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, already pushed beyond their limits from the relentless fight. Kale knew he was in trouble. His Sage's Eyes scanned the approaching forces, and what he saw sent a chill down his spine: the elites were on another level entirely. These were no ordinary fighters—they were hardened veterans, each of them far more powerful than anything he had faced so far.
Kale raised Nandaki, forcing himself to adopt a defensive stance. His vision blurred slightly as exhaustion clawed at the edges of his consciousness, but he shook it off. He couldn't afford to falter now. He had to fight. He had to push forward, no matter the cost.
The first elite charged at him, moving with a speed that belied his heavy armor. Kale barely managed to block the incoming strike, Nandaki clashing against the elite's blade with a resounding crash. The impact sent shockwaves up Kale's arm, nearly knocking the sword from his grasp. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the force of the blow, but he was already struggling to hold his ground.
A second elite flanked him, swinging a massive axe aimed at Kale's side. He twisted just in time, feeling the blade graze his armor as he narrowly avoided a fatal blow. But before he could recover, a third elite was upon him, slamming a shield into Kale's chest with bone-crushing force. The impact sent him flying backward, his body crashing into the dirt.
Kale gasped for air, pain radiating from every inch of his body. His chest heaved as he struggled to rise, but his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. He could feel his strength waning, the relentless onslaught of the elites wearing him down faster than he could recover.
"Damn it…" Kale cursed under his breath, forcing himself back onto his feet. He tried to summon his remaining strength, but his body was nearing its limit. He swung Nandaki desperately, each strike slower and less precise than the last. The elites parried his attacks effortlessly, their movements fluid and practiced. They were toying with him, testing his limits before going in for the kill.
Kale's world narrowed to the immediate struggle. He fought on, blocking and dodging as best he could, but every exchange left him more drained than before. He activated Sage's Eyes, desperately trying to find an opening, but the elites were too coordinated, too experienced. They moved as a single unit, their attacks synchronized with deadly efficiency.
One of the elites thrust his spear forward, piercing through Kale's shoulder. He cried out in pain, blood splattering the ground as he staggered back. His vision swam, and his grip on Nandaki loosened. Another elite seized the opportunity, swinging a heavy mace at Kale's side. The blow connected with a sickening crunch, sending him crashing to the ground once more.
Kale lay there, struggling to breathe as pain washed over him. He was outmatched, overwhelmed. It didn't matter how powerful his skills or stats were—he was just a 4th Floor player facing an enemy far beyond his level. The realization hit him like a hammer. No amount of talent or preparation could change the simple, brutal fact: he wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
The elites closed in, their weapons raised for the final blow. Kale tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. He could feel his consciousness slipping, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. This was it. He had fought with everything he had, but it still wasn't enough.
Just as one of the elites prepared to strike, a deafening horn sounded across the battlefield. Kale blinked, disoriented, as a new notification flashed in his vision:
[System Announcement: Elite Reinforcements Deployed—Allied Forces Arriving.]
A brilliant light burst from the sky, bathing the battlefield in a golden glow. New figures appeared on the horizon—warriors clad in radiant armor, wielding weapons that shimmered with a divine aura. The ground quaked as they charged forward, their presence immediately shifting the tide of battle.
Kale could barely register what was happening, his mind foggy and distant. He watched as the allied elites clashed with the enemy, their power and skill matching, if not exceeding, those of the reinforcements he had been fighting. The battlefield erupted into chaos once more, but this time, Kale wasn't the target. He was being protected.
But it was too late for him. His body gave out, the weight of his injuries dragging him into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was a warrior in shining armor, cutting through the enemy ranks with a brilliance that was almost blinding. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kale let himself go, surrendering to the exhaustion that had been clawing at him since the fight began.
The world faded to black, the sounds of battle distant and muffled. Kale's mind drifted, a single thought echoing in the void:
This isn't the end… I will get stronger…
And then, there was nothing.