A/N - Bonus chapter on the house.
The party members tensed as unexpected streams of visual information flooded their minds. The initial shock quickly gave way to understanding as they realized that it was Ambrose's doing, sharing his enhanced perception with them. While impressive, the sheer volume and clarity of information proved overwhelming. Unlike Ambrose, whose numerous mind-enhancing skills allowed him to process multiple information streams effortlessly, they possessed only marginally above-average mental capabilities.
The visual feed was almost too much to handle – Ambrose's supernatural perception captured everything in crystal clarity, from individual dewdrops on grass blades to the minute twitches of distant wolf ears. The party members quickly adapted by closing their physical eyes, allowing themselves to focus solely on the shared visual information without conflicting sensory input.
"This is incredible," Marcus thought, marveling at his newfound night vision. The world appeared in stunning clarity, every detail of the approaching wolves visible as if illuminated by daylight. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward, sword singing from its sheath.
His blade danced through the night air with deadly grace, each movement precise and purposeful. The wolves, despite their coordinated attacks, couldn't match his technical superiority. Marcus found himself reflecting on how differently this encounter might have played out without his recent awakening. Even with his combat experience from his previous life, an unawakened warrior facing these numbers in darkness would have risked serious injury.
As he effortlessly bisected another wolf, Marcus's attention briefly shifted to Ambrose. The noble heir defied his initial expectations. When ambrose first invited him to join the party, he thought it was just a bratty noble child playing house.
But contrary to what he thought, Ambrose demonstrated practical knowledge of architecture, helping them build a new shelter, he also actively participated in party duties despite his physical limitations, and even insisted on contributing through fishing. And now he was expending considerable mental energy to share his enhanced perception, giving them a crucial tactical advantage.
"Someone worthy of protection indeed," Marcus thought, a small smile playing across his lips as his blade claimed another wolf.
On the other side of the clearing, Hualing's combat style presented a stark contrast to Marcus's elegant swordplay. When a wolf targeted Ambrose, likely sensing his physical weakness, Hualing intercepted it with animalistic ferocity. Her hands plunged into the creature's flesh, literally tearing its head from its body. Blood sprayed across her face, and to everyone's horror, she licked it off with evident pleasure.
Her savage display gave even the wolves pause, their predatory instincts warning them away from this greater monster. Only their alpha's commanding howl drove them forward – straight to their doom. Hualing tore through them with her bare hands, leaving mangled corpses in her wake.
When only the alpha remained, Hualing's blood-soaked grin widened. The wolf's blood she'd spilled didn't fall but rose, flowing upward to coalesce around her fingers, forming a crimson blade. Both she and Marcus charged the alpha simultaneously, as if competing for the kill. Their blades flashed in perfect synchronization.
Marcus smoothly sheathed his sword without looking back, while Hualing's blood-blade dissolved, raining red droplets onto the forest floor. A moment later, the alpha wolf's body fell apart, split by two perfect cuts.
Throughout the carnage, Ambrose maintained his concentration, carefully managing the mental strain of providing enhanced vision to his companions. His expression remained carefully neutral as he observed both Marcus's disciplined efficiency and Hualing's disturbing brutality, filing away these insights about his newfound allies.
…
Day three of Dungeon Survival,
Through the dense forest, Lysander and his three remaining allies stumbled forward, their exhausted bodies barely responding to their desperate commands to move. Lysander's condition appeared particularly dire – his mana completely depleted from countless defensive spells cast during their flight. The bitter taste of sacrifice lingered in his thoughts; he'd abandoned the majority of his group to buy time, yet here they were, still running for their lives.
The monster pursuing them had demonstrated a cruel intelligence that exceeded anything Lysander had encountered before. For nearly twenty-four hours, it had maintained this psychological torture – drawing close enough to inspire terror, allowing them to waste energy and resources defending themselves, then retreating just far enough to give false hope. This calculated strategy served not just to exhaust them physically, but to break them mentally as well.
With trembling fingers, Lysander retrieved a healing pill from his pouch. The medicine's effects spread through his system immediately, restoring a portion of his depleted mana and stamina. He noticed the desperate looks from his companions – their eyes fixed on his pouch, silently pleading. Though these pills represented a significant portion of his personal wealth, the tactical reality was undeniable. Without these "meat shields," as he thought of them, he'd be defenseless when the monster finally tired of its game.
"Here," he growled, distributing three more pills with obvious reluctance. The brief surge of recovery gave them enough strength to press forward.
Just as despair threatened to overwhelm them, sounds of human activity reached their ears. Hope drove them to sprint the final distance, bursting through the treeline into a surreal scene that stopped them in their tracks.
A proper structure stood in the clearing – not some hastily assembled shelter, but an actual house. Before it, five people lounged as if enjoying a peaceful vacation rather than surviving a deadly trial. A noble youth sat reading in a comfortable chair while his maid tended to his shoulders. Two young women engaged in casual conversation, their laughter carrying across the clearing. A swordsman stood apart, practicing forms with focused serenity.
"What the hell?" Lysander's bewildered exclamation captured their collective disbelief. The contrast between their desperate flight and this group's casual relaxation felt like a slap in the face. While they'd spent the past day running for their lives, these people had apparently decided to build a house and take it easy.
Before Lysander could fully process this bizarre situation, a chilling voice cut through the air behind them. "Kekeke, I knew I could find something good just by chasing you! Kekeke!" The monster's gleeful cackling sent icy terror down their spines as they realized its true purpose – they'd been herded here like sheep to slaughter, leading their tormentor straight to fresh prey.