A System's notification froze me.
My gaze remained fixed on Moonscar, the elite undead, her choir-like song – hauntingly beautiful, chillingly precise – filling the air.
Moments stretched into an eternity.
Then, silence.
Moonscar ceased her incantation, her posture unchanged: a kneeling prayer, her gaze directed heavenward.
"I sense a sorcerer," she declared, her voice resonating with chilling certainty, "one tainted by Zeta's essence."
The statement felt less like an accusation, more a grim observation, a clarification of her position regarding my presence in this unholy place.
Though uttered perhaps in some monstrous tongue, her meaning was crystal clear for me.
"Such a pity," I replied, affecting a nonchalant tone. "I'd hoped for some immunity amongst the undead."
A cruel laugh shattered the uneasy truce.
"Enjoy your fleeting privilege, Zeta's apprentice," Moonscar spat, her voice dripping with venomous pride. "The moonlight's curse nears its zenith, the full moon's perfection! The Undead Realm's ascendance is inevitable! Your resistance is futile!"
"Then let's end this, Moonscar!" I countered, my hand already weaving the spell.
Ten ice javelins, a torrent of glacial fury, hurled towards her.
But they shattered against an impenetrable magical shield, crumbling like brittle ice against a sun-scorched rock.
Damn it!
The curse had halved their potency!
No wonder the Ice Javelin spell failed so miserably!
I'm not giving up!
Desperate, I unleashed another Lightning Bolt at Moonscar, praying for paralysis, which can creating a crack in the infernal curse's grip.
My spells, hurled in a frantic barrage, hammered against her formidable magical defenses, but it's not effective.
Unfazed, Moonscar continued her eerie chant, her composure a chilling testament to my weakening magic.
The oppressive weight of the lunar curse intensified with each haunting note of her ritual.
At current condition, time was a luxury I couldn't afford!
With a desperate lunge, I summoned the Blade of Fire, its incandescent energy flaring on my Dragon Scepter, as I closed the distance.
Bain's urgent cry, "Sir Alstair, beware!", sliced through the chaos.
Moonscar's ritual had birthed a horrifying legion: undead soldiers, cloaked in ragged shrouds, wielding blades of crystalline death, advanced with brutal efficiency.
I wouldn't yield!
The Blade of Fire danced, a whirlwind of searing destruction, felling the skeletal horde.
Even the curse halved its potency, yet it provided a crucial damage against the relentless onslaught from those undead soldiers.
As I neared Moonscar, I unleashed the Blade of Fire's full fury upon her defenses.
The penetration successfully cracks spiderwebbed across her magical barrier, but complete penetration remained difficult.
At the middle of struggle, Moonscar's incantation ceased.
Is this a flicker of hope that pierced this suffocating dread?
But, I don't sense any uneasiness on Moonscar.
As she stare at me intensely, I understand my hope to gain victory is now shattered.
"The Moonlight Curse Ritual is complete," she whispered, her voice a chilling epitaph.
The ambient lunar energy, already oppressive, now descended with crushing weight.
The Blade of Fire sputtered, extinguished by the raw, malevolent power of the curse.
A stark, unforgiving system notification echoed the grim reality: my situation was irrevocably dire.
>Warning! The Full Moonlight Curse had affected your Magician Power!
>Warning! Your Mana power decreased 95%!
>Warning! Your Mana damage decreased 95%!
>Warning! Your Magic Barrier Defense decreased 95%!
Moonscar's taunts echoed, laced with venomous triumph.
"You're late, Zeta's apprentice! My victory will bring Zeta to an eternal torment in Underworld realm! You - his last and desperate hope - has crumbled to pieces! " The scorn dripped from her words like acid.
"The magician who dares to scale celestial heights, seeking a miracle to resurrect his parents—your tale is legendary amongst the monster realm, Alstair. Noble, perhaps. But to our ears, it's pathetically naive! You dream of vanquishing us for such a paltry ambition? Behold your pathetic state! A powerless mage, a lamb to the slaughter, awaiting our undead legions!" Her mockery was a brutal assault.
She was correct; the curses shackling me rendered my magical abilities feeble.
Yet, her insults ignited a furious blaze within me.
This skeletal harpy believed her victory assured?
Bullshit!
It's not over yet, you dumb skeleton!
I am Alstair!
The man who vowed to save and protect his family, regardless of the cost!
The man who embraced the infernal rigors of Zeta's system to achieve triumph!
Fueled by incandescent rage and unwavering resolve, I frantically surveyed my depleted magical arsenal, searching for a single spark of resistance.
Then, I realize a glimmer of hope—the Gaia Endowment Spell!
Without hesitation, I unleashed its power.
My physical strength surged, a tidal wave of invigorating energy.
A clenched fist, thrumming with newfound might, smashed against Moonscar's fractured magical barrier.
Fractures spiderwebbed, expanding relentlessly!
My physical assault was effective!
I pummeled the magical barrier with relentless blows until it shattered, revealing the Moonscar.
Her terrified gasp, "How is this possible? A human...?" was cut short.
My fist connected with her skull, a brutal impact sending her reeling.
A shriek of agony tore from her as she fled, limbs flailing.
Her undead legions surged forward, but I was an unstoppable tide.
Each foe met a swift, decisive blow to the head, collapsing instantly.
Even their desperate attempts to flank me were met with acrobatic counters – a backflip, a whirling kick that severed their skull.
The battlefield was soon littered with the fallen of those undead soldiers.
Moonscar, witnessing her army's annihilation, trembled, her fear palpable.
She crawled pathetically, a desperate attempt to escape my unwavering gaze.
"It's too late, Zeta's apprentice! The Full Moonlight's curse is unstoppable!" she wailed, her voice cracking with terror.
Her argument were meaningless.
For me, the war on Dawn Town was far from over.
"Your curse may be inevitable," I retorted, my voice laced with steely determination, "but your demise is not."
I closed the distance, moving fast and pummeling her like a whirlwind of fury.
Each strike, a calculated blow dismantling her skeletal form, pulverizing her until only fragments remained.
The system's triumphant announcement confirmed my victory, a stark punctuation to the brutal symphony of destruction.
> You get 250.000 Monster Diamond!
> You get Talisman: The Absence of Sound* (1x)!
*Utilized for remove any sound generated by the user
> You get Fragment of Life Miracle**(x1)!
**Collect three of it to gain the Secret of Legendary Recovery
The Quest's Reward was astonishing!
My gaze immediately fixated on the Fragment of Life Miracle – a crucial component for my Miracle Potion.
While not directly contributing to the potion itself, the Secret of Legendary Recovery promises invaluable aid to show direction within the treacherous Abandoned Tower.
Of course, I need to finish the Quest to defeat the formidable Deadspires and Voidwalkers to fully unlock the recovery's potential!
As I observer the Talisman: The Absence of Sound, though seemingly superfluous now, represent a potent reserve for future combat.
I know it will enable a strategic advantage if I'll carefully preserve it.
After checking the Quest's reward, I just realize the dissonance of the haunted church – the unsettling hymns mingling with the agonizing death throes of the undead horde – was abruptly and utterly silenced.
*Congratulations! Crystallice Guild and Bain succeed defeating a Boss Rank Monster on Dawn City Raid Mission!
Another Knight's app alert.
My reward for defeating that boss monster—equivalent to a completed B-rank mission!
Excellent!
This reward will elevate my Knight's rank faster!
As I dismissed the notification, only to find Bain practically leaping at me.
"Sir Alstair!" he exclaimed, his voice a vibrant tremor of awe. "That was…unbelievable! You crushed a boss-level monstrosity with your bare hand!"
Technically, a hand enhanced by the Gaia Endowment spell, I corrected mentally.
"The Moonscar's raw power may be not the strongest element she had," I conceded, "but her Moonlight Curse is a game-changer. I bet Lance and his team are shaking in anguish due of this damned curse."
Bain's features clouded with worry. "I… hadn't considered that," he stammered, his voice hushed with concern.
In my current, curse-weakened state, go out to face Deadspires or Voidwalkers would be suicidal decision.
A single blow from either would obliterate me severely.
Still, this difficult situation, while dire, paled in comparison to the Moonscar's pre-defeat boasts.
Her boasts is not as deadly as it seems after I checked the system interface, which explained the Moonlight Curse's duration.
The information held a grim, yet vital, significance.
>The Full Moonlight Curse effect: 66 hours remaining!
The moonlight's malevolent grip would, we estimated, relinquish its hold within two to three days.
Our immediate priority: secure a haven—unapproachable for Undead monsters and secure sanctuary—stocked with provisions sufficient for a three-day vigil within the city's treacherous embrace.
The simplicity of this plan lied on its risky execution.
Dreadspires, even from afar, could unleash their devastating attacks upon any lingering presence; the city's shadowy corners offered no true refuge from their long-range assaults.
Voidwalkers, too, posed a constant threat, their swift blades a swift response to any indiscreet noise.
"Three days' worth of sustenance is important," I declared to Bain, after careful consideration.
Bain's response was immediate, "Food, sir? I thought we'd be hunting another Boss Monster."
"No," I countered,
"the curse's shadow lingers for approximately three days. Retreat is our only viable option. A secure location, supported with provisions, is our immediate goal. Venturing Dawn City at this time is suicidal; the undead hordes would swiftly overwhelm us."
Bain fell silent, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.
A brief search ensued, culminating in his approach towards the church's podium.
Minutes later, he revealed a hidden access point, a secret passage concealed within the venerable structure.
"This tunnel, sir, leads to the church's subterranean barracks. I recall a cache of rations stored there—hopefully adequate for our needs," Bain explained, his words hinting at a familiarity born of long acquaintance with the city's hidden recesses.
"Remarkable, Bain," I exclaimed, genuinely impressed by his intimate knowledge of Dawn City's labyrinthine secrets. "I never suspected such resourcefulness."
"Before the monsters' invasion emerged at the Dawn City, I often worked part-time at the church, sir," he explained as we descended into the darkness, our path illuminated by a flickering beam.
"Years of service lead to Church's trust on me; hence my awareness of this passage."
He continued, "Before the church's construction, a warren of barracks existed beneath the ground—a grim legacy of past conflicts. Upon the church's completion, these were largely repurposed for church residents." "Unbelievable," I murmured, contemplating this forgotten relic of a war among humans in the past now become a safe place during prolonged war between humanity and the monstrous horde.
"An evidence to those brutal times, when mankind was forced into a relentless, life-or-death struggle."
"Indeed, sir," Bain responded, a sorrowful undercurrent lacing his words. "A terrible conflict, forcing everyone into the brutal role of knight, facing a constant threat to their lives. Our peaceful existence was irrevocably shattered."
I understood his grief.
War's brutal embrace leaves no one untouched; both of us, I suspected, had borne the burden of life-threatening duty, forced to accept dangerous tasks as knights for the sake of our families.
Reaching the barracks, Bain swiftly assessed the storage room, examining the remaining rations.
Their condition was excellent, well within their expiration date, and more than sufficient to sustain us for the duration.
Relief washed over me.
The barracks offered a safe haven, a temporary respite while we awaited the moon's malign curse influence to diminish.
For now, patience was our most potent weapon.
We would wait and observe.
***
>The Full Moonlight Curse effect: 35 hours remaining!
For nearly two day, Bain and I had remained cloistered within the church's barracks.
We'd established a rotating watch schedule, monitoring the undead horde's movements outside and snatching brief rests.
During our surveillance, we made a startling discovery: Voidwalkers were also present.
Fortunately, we moved with the stealth of shadows, avoiding any noisy and unnecessary sound that might .
Our rations, surprisingly edible, sustained us, and the warmth of the barracks offered a stark contrast to the chilling reality outside, a haven amidst the encroaching undead.
With ten minutes until shift change, I rose from my cot, readying myself.
Then, a frantic pounding echoed through the tunnel – Bain, breathless and ashen-faced, burst in.
"Sir! Knights… they're inside the church!" he stammered.
"Which knights? Part of Lance's raid?" I demanded clarification, my voice sharp.
Bain, speechless, could only offer a trembling, inadequate response.
His pale complexion spoke volumes; he'd witnessed something truly horrific.
Whatever it was, I had to see it.
"Come," I commanded, leading him through the tunnel towards the church's altar.
The air was thick with the stench of blood, mingled with dust and the acrid tang of sweat.
The scene that met our eyes was harrowing.
Numerous knights, their bodies mangled and drenched in crimson, lay near death at the church's center.
Those less grievously wounded were gaunt and hollow-eyed, their minds shattered by the horrors they'd endured.
One knight, registering our arrival, drew his sword, his gaze a terrifying blend of rage and terror.
I recognized him – one of the many who'd mocked at me when Lance had publicly ridiculed my application to join his raid.
But the arrogant mockery was a distant memory now.
His trembling frame, his broken spirit, evoked not fear, but profound pity.
His threat was nonexistent; I only felt compassion for his ravaged state.
A terrified knight stutter, "Who...who are you? Are you...undead?" His voice trembled with a palpable fear.
"Silence," I commanded, my tone sharp and urgent. "Your loud noise will attract the undead elite. They hunt the careless Knights. We risk annihilation if we're not careful."
His reply was a furious, "Shut up! Die—"
I preempted his attack, unleashing a Return to Earth spell.
A crushing wave of gravity slammed him to the ground.
The moonlight curse weakened my magic, but the effect was sufficient to subdue his frenzy.
"I will not repeat myself," I stated, my gaze unwavering. "One more outburst, and I will eliminate you. It's a more expedient solution than allowing all of us to perish due to your recklessness. Is that understood?"
His hostile snarling subsided, replaced by a defeated quietude.
His surrender was evident when he relinquished his sword.
"I...I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice choked with remorsefulness. "Please, spare me."
Deactivating the spell, I assessed the injured knights.
A healer was among them, but their grievous wounds cast doubt on their ability to provide aid.
From my system inventory, I retrieved several potent restorative potions.
"Bain," I instructed, handing him the vials, "attend to the healers first. Their recovery is important."
"Yes, Sir Alstair!" Bain responded, swiftly distributing the potions.
The potions proved miraculously effective.
Pain receded, bleeding ceased, and the healers swiftly regained consciousness and their healing abilities.
The other injured knights watched in stunned amazement.
However, the crisis was far from over.
"Assist your comrades," I addressed the revived healers.
"Stop the bleeding, tend to those suffering from shock. If you desire safe place and food, then prioritize your comrades recovery. We cannot afford to leave fallen knights behind."
The healers, initially bewildered, quickly grasped the urgency of my commands, their heads nodding in agreement.
While healers frantically worked to revive the fallen knights, a warrior, who had earlier attempted to attack me, slowly rose, only to collapse again, his strength utterly depleted.
"Where are Lance and the rest of his strike force?" I asked.
The knight trembled, his face contorted by a horrific memory.
"It was a catastrophe...utter devastation...Everything crumbled in an instant. Initially, our assault team dominated the battlefield, decimating the undead hordes," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"But when the full moon rose, bathing everything in its eerie luminescence, it was as if the apocalypse had begun. Our strength… it vanished. Even A-rank knights suffered grievous wounds fighting common undead! Then, from the shadows, a relentless barrage rained down, obliterating our ranks one by one!" His body racked with sobs,
he continued, "The blood...the screams of agony and despair...We scattered, fleeing for our lives, hunted relentlessly by a terrifying undead elite wielding a death-dealing blade!"
I could scarcely fathom the horrific ordeal Lance's strike force had endured under the curse of the full moon.
The addition of Dreadspires and Voidwalkers, each capable of slaughtering scores with a single blow, made the carnage almost incomprehensible.
Of the hundreds of knights I'd initially witnessed in Lance's command, perhaps only ten to twenty percent survived.
It was a scene of utter chaos.
"You will remain here. Silence is mandatory. Do not disturb Bain or myself. Obey my instructions without question. Any defiance will result in your immediate demise. Is that understood?" My words hung heavy in the air.
Heads nodded rapidly; hushed affirmations barely escaped cracked lips.
Good.
I needed to maintain focus on my primary objective: the annihilation of the Dreadspires and Voidwalkers.
As the injured knights received treatment, I directed Bain to distribute rations, water, and blankets.
Two hours crawled by.
The recovery was agonizingly slow, but gradually, I witnessed a glimmer of hope as their condition improved.
Nourishment and warmth revitalized their bodies, fostering healing.
Then, a beacon of hope – a new system notification arrived, offering a fragile promise of reprieve.
>The Full Moonlight Curse effect: 33 hours remaining!
>The Full Moonlight Curse return to Crescent Moonlight Curse due to diminish of Moonscar's power!
>Warning! The Crescent Moonlight Curse had affected your Magician Power!
>Warning! Your Mana power decreased 50%!
>Warning! Your Mana damage decreased 50%!
>Warning! Your Magic Barrier Defense decreased 50%!
As I expected, The Crescent Moonlight Curse had diminished in potency, followed by its time remaining.
A potent surge of magic, liberated from the weakened curses, coursed through my veins, a revitalizing tide.
Those injured Knights in the church, still on their health regaining process, experienced a similar restorative influx, accelerating their healing.
While the magical restoration remains incomplete, we are no longer crippled by the debilitating depletion of our previous state.
The vigil continues, awaiting the complete diminished of the moonlight's curse influence.
Suddenly, a violent assault shattered the church's quietude.
A furious pounding on the heavy oak door reverberated through the sanctuary.
"Open up! Open this damned door!"
The raw, desperate urgency in the shout identified the speaker instantly: one of the knights, undoubtedly seeking refuge.
The insistent, almost destructive battering commanded the attention of everyone within.
"It's me! Lance!"
Ah, the culprit was revealed: Lance, his entry as forceful and unrestrained as his personality.
Bain and I cautiously approached the door, anticipating the cacophony Lance would undoubtedly unleash.
But something felt amiss.
The pounding ceased, yet a palpable malevolence emanated from beyond the oak. Instinct propelled me towards Bain, yanking him back to create a safe distance. Moments stretched into an eternity.
Then, with a thunderous crash, Lance's spear splintered the church door, the sound a brutal symphony of destruction.
He stood framed in the wreckage, a figure drenched in gore, a savage roar tearing from his throat.
"What in the hell are you doing here?!", Lance shout in anger.
His blood-soaked form staggered towards his battered comrades, a grotesque parody of concern twisting his features.
"Recovery? Food? Shelter? How is that possible?! You're all traitors! You sabotaged my team! Your cursed guild and that stupid pig stole my victory on defeating Moonscar!", Lance point at me with rage.
His accusations were unreasonable, a desperate attempt to deflect blame.
A significant annoyance finally erupted among the knights due Lance's rage.
"Silence, Lance! Stop heaping this on us!" one retorted.
"The curse of the moonlight altered everything! No one could foresee this! You forced us onward, disregarding our safety!" another chimed in.
A third added, "Your reckless youth blinded you to the peril! You prioritized speed over survival!"
Lance's face, crimson with fury, contorted into a mask of rage.
"Silence! All of you, despicable betrayers!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
He brandished his broken spear, the point dripping crimson.
"My team didn't fail! I'm the academy's finest! I excelled at every trial! You traitors are to blame! Confess – who orchestrated this?!" His malevolence was palpable as he advanced, a predator stalking its prey.
I could not allow this frenzied display to continue.
Without hesitation, I invoked the spell, "Return to Earth," unleashing a crushing weight of magical gravity.
A bone-jarring shriek pierced the air as Lance crumpled, his body wracked with agony.
The sickening snap of fracturing bones reached my ears.
When the storm of his rage subsided, I approached, a grim pity settling over me.
"Y-you... I knew it! You're the true traitor!" he hissed, spittle flecking his lips.
His desperate accusations threatened to incite the Voidwalkers to the church, and my patience snapped.
I silenced him with a brutal stomp to his mouth.
"No more outbursts. A single syllable will end your career. Do you comprehend, you imbecile?" My foot remained planted, my threat stark.
Fear replaced Lance's rage, tears welling in his eyes.
What a troublesome child.
Suddenly, a malevolent presence, a storm of dark energy, erupted from the church's entrance.
The familiar thud of approaching footsteps sent a chill down my spine.
A figure emerged—sightless, speechless, yet wielding a sheathed blade.
The Knights, recognizing the skeletal form of the Voidwalker, recoiled in terror, their faces etched with the ghastly memories of his brutal efficiency, the swift, merciless slaughter of their comrades.
Amidst the fear, their recovery was incomplete; the lingering Half-Moonlight Curse weakened them further.
Looking at my current condition, facing the Voidwalker now was suicidal.
But there's no hope for other Knights to face the Voidwalker.
Everyone is screamed in fear!
At this point, time was critical!
Instantly, I invoked Zephyr, summoning three Wind Warriors to shield me.
Their blades met the Voidwalker's onslaught with a blur of motion, deflecting a blow aimed at my throat.
That split-second intervention saved my life!
"Bain! Go to the barracks! Bring every Knight and hide there!" I commanded, my voice sharp with urgency.
"And bring that coward Lance with you!" I barked, gesturing towards him.
Bain's concern was palpable. "But sir… what about you?", he asked.
"I'll handle this abomination. Go!" I snapped, already sprinting from the church, the Wind Warriors at my heels, drawing the Voidwalker's attention.
Gaia Endowment spell blessing surged through me, augmenting my strength, granting me unnatural speed as I fled down the main street.
The oppressive aura of the Voidwalker pressed down on me, and I felt the icy gaze of hundreds of undead from all directions.
Behind me, the clash of steel echoed—a desperate defense against overwhelming odds.
My Wind Warriors, valiant but outnumbered and cursed, were delaying the inevitable.
The undead horde closed in, a tide of skeletal forms, their blades glinting ominously in the dim light.
They were converging from every angle, commanded by the relentless Voidwalker.
Yet, Gaia's Endowment spell empowerment kept me ahead, maintaining a precarious distance to ensure my safety.
The relentless pursuit was a heart-pounding race against death.
My breath burned, my muscles screamed, but I dared not falter!
The fate of all depended on my escape!
From atop Dawn City's tallest spire, a pressuring menace emanated.
Dreadspires, I knew, was targeting me with his specialized crossbow, his lethal intent a chilling certainty.
A whistling wind heralded the first shooting of crystal arrow; a swift Wind Warrior deflected a crystal projectile that almost strike my skull.
In the blink of an eye, a relentless barrage of crystal bolts, each propelled with deadly precision, rained down.
Another Wind Warrior, a blur of motion, parried the constant assault.
Exiting during the Half Moonlight Curse was reckless, a gamble I'd accepted, but pinning down Dreadspires' location was important.
Instantly, I retrieved a crucial item from my system inventory, a failsafe I'd prepared for diverting the Voidwalkers from the church.
A heartbeat later, two Wind Warriors fell, victims of Dreadspires' precise headshots.
My remaining protectors were swiftly annihilated by the Voidwalkers' onslaught.
Zephyr's resurgence was impossible; the summoning ritual required a considerable time investment, a luxury I didn't possess.
Yet, my defeat was unacceptable!
My hand clenched around the item, ready for its deployment; my last desperate act of defiance!
>Utilized Talisman: The Absence of Sound!
>Every sound from you now become soundless!
The Talisman: The Absence of Sound had rendered me move like a phantom.
My footfalls were swallowed by the earth, my breath and heartbeat inaudible even to myself.
The Dreadspires, reliant on sight, still posed a threat, but the Voidwalkers and their legions, utterly dependent on auditory cues, were blind.
Based on my previous encounters—the harrowing battle with Moonscar and past skirmishes with the Voidwalkers—had revealed their fatal weakness: their reliance on sound to track prey.
Now, shrouded in silence, I moved like a ghost through their ranks.
No single undead armies, including Voidwalkers, not realize I had run through them.
Amidst my running, a crystalline projectile from Dreadspires passed near my abdomen; almost getting strike by it.
As I expected, those missed shot strike undead armies beside me who're almost slashes my back.
On my run, I continued to dodged, weaving through the disoriented undead horde deliberately for caught in the Dreadspires' relentless barrage.
The air filled with the sickening crunch of shattering bone and the agonized screams of the fallen undead armies due to constant miss strike, yet deadly, from Dreadspires.
The main street I currently run through immediately transformed into a macabre tapestry of splintered bone and lifeless undead, the brutal efficiency of the Dreadspires' assault leaving a trail of carnage.
One undead warrior lunged, a desperate slash intended to cleave me in two, but the Dreadspires' fire, a missed fire to be exact, anticipated him, instantly terminating the threat.
Though pummeled and battered by stray blows and errant limbs, I pressed onward, unyielding.
Finally, I reached the Voidwalker, still swiveling his head in bewildered confusion, oblivious to my presence at his side.
Seizing the opportune moment, I melted into the shadows of his back.
The shriek of the wind—a harbinger of the Dreadspires' continued assault—announced their next volley.
In a heartbeat, a storm of crystalline projectiles from Dreadspires slammed into the Voidwalker's form, shattering his flesh and bone with brutal precision.
He tried to parry the onslaught, but the relentless bombardment had already crippled him, severing his momentum.
A final, desperate vertical slash of his blade ended as abruptly as it began, his ravaged body collapsing under the weight of its wounds.
He fell, a hollow husk.
With the Voidwalker vanquished, I sprinted towards the towering structure dominating Dawn City, the Dreadspires' lair.
The system's confirmation of victory echoed in my mind—a fleeting acknowledgment before I refocused on my last objective; defeating Dreadspires.
My gambit had succeeded!
Just as planned!