As a reckless, do-or-die plan implanted itself into his desperate mind, excitement bubbled in his heart as the once insurmountable foe felt fallible.
Just the thought of being able to overcome the one before him felt akin to madness, yet his confidence remained as his eyes met on the completed overhaul of the mercenary.
There was no semblance of flesh seen from beneath the hulking armor of dark-gray stone, seamlessly connecting itself as the cracks filled themselves naturally, becoming akin to an elemental of earth. A monstrosity that left behind anything resembling a man.
"….Hhhuuu…" Breath left through a small gap in Claxous' stone helmet, coming out as hot wind.
The massive greatsword was easily hoisted up as if bearing the weight of a feather as sediment swirled around the length of its blade. It became clad in stone as well, having its length and width doubled.
Bastian couldn't help but feel as if he escaped one monster only to encounter another; the man blessed by Gaia now stood across from him, clad in his mystical armor of stone with his land-splitting blade ready to be swung.
"This is true strength," Claxous spoke, his voice echoed from behind his claustrophobic armor, "I could split you in two with a single flick of my wrist. I could crush you with a slam of my fist. I could break your legs and leave you stranded here for the creatures prowling this floor. That's strength; the power to decide the fate of the weak."
"C'mon, then," Bastian taunted, doing his best to maintain his confidence as sweat slid down his cheek, "Try and kill this "weakling."
The words he issued were met with an immediate response as he witnessed the stone-clad figure begin swinging his massive weapon in a side-arc motion. It made little sense, from the distance the blessed man was at, not even his extraordinarily large blade would be able to cover it.
"Ah–"
Bastian's eyes widened slightly as he realized what was coming; as the sword was being swung, more rocks clung to it, rapidly piling on and lengthening the reach of the tool that hardly resembled a blade at this point.
It was as if a landslide was being weaponized; the swirling mass of stone swept through the soil, quickly closing in on the adventurer. He prayed his natural agility was enough as he waited for it to come close enough, feeling the powerful gust of wind it carried with it rustle through his light-brown locks. As it came within a single second away from making bone-crushing contact with him, he bent his knees and leapt up.
"Ha!" He let out, placing his life in his ability to jump.
The adrenaline pumping through his veins granted his legs the hop of a rabbit as he managed to rise above the swung mass of rocks. He looked down as it swept by, witnessing it roll through the dirt with a violent rumble.
'He doesn't care about anything else but killing me, does he?' he thought, witnessing the lengths the mercenary went as the rocky weapon swept forth.
As he landed back onto his feet, he looked around quickly, finding that the lengthened pillar of stone had returned to a more reasonable length as the rock-armored man stomped towards him. Rather than meeting the goliath head on, he turned the other direction, making a run straight for the field of steam.
It was a decision that assuredly seemed stupid, as the steam was lethal to him, but nothing more than warm air to the man of stone, yet he delved into it nonetheless. Everything came down to timing; he kept count in his head of the building mounds in the soil, getting a sense of when they would release the geysers of burning air.
'C'mon–a bit closer,' he thought.
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
Each step taken by the stone-armored mercenary echoed through the bleak field, following mere no more than a dozen meters behind the swift adventurer. Around them, pillars of steam erupted, hissing in the stagnant air of the eleventh floor.
Bastian glanced back, coming to a stop, confirming that the man was still chasing behind him.
'Good. This should be close enough,' he thought.
Claxous' voice boomed from his dense covering, "This is the end."
"Maybe, we'll see," Bastian responded as he dropped down to a knee, planting both of his palms against the lifeless soil.
He kept his eyes up, watching the bulwark stomp towards him, hoisting his pillar of sharp stone up with killer intent. The confident adventurer, clad in sweat amidst the field of steam, dug his fingertips into the dirt, breathing in as he shouted:
"Levin!"
Calling upon the straining spell once again caused an immediate recoil from the adventurer as blood spewed from his nose and mouth, hacking up.
"What–?" Claxous hesitated.
A surge of fulminating mysticism pressed itself from the hands of the adventurer into the soil, rippling through the specks of dirt and pushing towards the ground which the stone man stood upon. It was unclear just what the unique magecraft had targeted with its amplifying touch at first, but as the mercenary looked down at his feet, it became obvious.
A mound, larger than any other in the field, bubbled up, rising like the dough cooked in flames; the bulbous rise of soil lifted the man of stone before–it released.
Flourishing into the isolated field, a pillar of roaring steam shot upward, quickly filling the area with a rise in temperature. It was magnitudes larger than any other geyser, expelling as a great, white mass with undeniable heat.
"--Ngh!" Bastian raised his arms, feeling the biting hit even from the distance away he stood from the pillar. It felt as though he was standing in an oven, unable to imagine what kind of scorch the mercenary experienced.
'It worked–maybe too well! I knew from watching Uncle use it, but Levin…It's versatility almost feels limitless. It was a gamble, but I knew if it worked, it'd be worth it: it charged and caused a reaction with the steam below the soil. All I had to do was let Levin flow to the spot that brute was standing…took a bit of luck,' he thought.
Seeing the outcome of something made of his own actions enamored him as his emerald irises glistened, his hair blowing in the winds that swept through the field, all pouring off of the immense pillar of steam. An eruption of his own evolution; in the mind of the man who clung to caution, leading to stagnation, a thirst flickered in him: a desire to pursue greater heights, even if it meant risking everything.
"This heat…will not stop me!"
A roar boomed, distorted by rage as from the mass of steam, the rock-clad figure charged out. There was clear desperation from the once stoic swordsman now, as the sturdy armor that clung to his body emitted vapor, enveloped in scorching heat.
Each stomp taken crushed the soil behind the blessed man, causing small bursts of steam behind him as he recklessly charged towards the adventurer. Like a thoughtless beast, stamping its feet with only violence on its mind.
Bastian didn't give up any ground, standing firmly as he held his hand up, revealing the cerulean gem he had kept a close hold of, "I didn't plan on the heat getting you–I was betting on this doing the job."
Guided by his burnt hand, the magical stone was lobbed through the field of steam, intercepting the thoughtless charge of the steaming mercenary.
"This is–?!" Claxous reacted, too late as the gemstone's inner light burst outward.
An explosion burst out from the small object, manifesting into a large swirl of crystal-clear water. The aquatic mass showered the man, enveloping him in its brisk touch.
'Water?...What is the purpose of this?' Claxous questioned, feeling the cold fluid press against his rocky hide.
Bastian pointed towards the confused mercenary with a confident smirk of his own, "Let me give you a lesson: when something extremely hot makes sudden contact with extreme cold, they collide. The resulting reaction causes the vapor to–well, I'll let you figure that one out."
"What–?" Claxous reacted, looking down at his earthen exoskeleton.
The stone rattled; the mixture of hot and cold caused the vapor to flow and expand before–BOOM.
An explosion of steam flooded outward from the man of stone, pushing with extreme force as the adventurer found himself being blasted back as well. The breath was knocked out of his lungs, catching himself as he rolled onto his feet. As he inhaled, the abundance of hot air caused him to cough, feeling dizzy from the uninhabitable temperature that occupied the field.
'How do ya like that, huh?!' He thought.
In truth, he had no certainty just what the reach of the vapor explosion would be; the possibility laid in his mind that its heat might've reached him, as well. A gambit with his own life on the line, though the risk was high, the payoff was just as great.
A plume of steam fluttered upward, expanding near the ceiling as chunks of stone flung through the air.
The vapor calmed, allowing the adventurer to slowly walk across the field. Walking into a cloud of steam that had been cooled by the evaporating water, he found the mercenary, laid out on the ground, his stone armor having been blown away and his body covered in burns.
"Pretty good for someone without a Blessing, right?" Bastian asked, standing over the steaming figure.
The man laid there, simply looking up with exhaustion in his eyes as vapor left the pores of his heated body, "I see that's another form of strength—your knowledge and wit. I lost. Do what you must."
The mercenary shut his eyes, welcoming whatever fate the victory of the battle had in mind. Expecting the end of a blade to be rammed into his chest, the stoic swordsman found himself surprised as he opened his eyes, only finding the adventurer claiming something else besides his life as a prize.
Bastian retrieved the dark-blue sack, bouncing it in the palm of his hand, "There we go. I think I earned this."
"The crystal…? What're you planning on doing with it?" Claxous asked with exhaustion weakening his words.
The adventurer shrugged his shoulders casually, having a lackadaisical look upon his face, "I'll see if your boss still wants it. He may have betrayed me, but I'll make him throw a few more jewels in for good measure—maybe give him a few punches to the face as well. For good measure."
A small laugh left the swordsman's lips for the first time as he closed his eyes, "I'd advise against that. The moment you step into Frederick's estate, you'll be cut down by a dozen guards. You're a dead man walking. If I were you, I'd hightail it out of Velmusia and cut your losses."
Bastian softly tapped his hand against the laid-out man's shoulder before standing back up, beginning to walk away, "Maybe the me of yesterday would, but…I'm here to stay."
Leaving the boundaries of the smoky field, he realized he hadn't quite memorized the layout of the eleventh floor. He was at the threshold of the black soil, looking upon a small hill that led back into the depths of the black steel halls.
Echoes of footsteps rang, both distant and close, though unseen, putting him on alert as he kept his eyes peeled.
'I'm not home free yet. This is the eleventh floor we're talking about–and I'm not in the best shape right now,' he thought.