As Philippe racked his brain for an opening, a rifthound lunged from his blind spot. He threw himself to the side, feeling the gust of its claws pass mere centimeters from his face.
His heart pounded wildly, his breaths came in short gasps, and sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes.
Pathetic, he thought bitterly. Not a single one of my attacks has landed!
He bit his lip until he tasted the faint tang of blood, frustrated with himself. I thought two weeks of training would make a difference… but I'm still this weak.
Philippe closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath, forcing the cold, ozone-scented air to fill his burning lungs.
He opened his eyes again.
This time, the panic in his gaze had vanished, replaced by a chilling calm.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a confident, lopsided smirk.
"No matter," he said. "I'll land a hit on at least one of you."
For a fleeting moment, he considered using Eclipse Soul, the skill he'd gained from a life-or-death encounter—his ace in the hole for survival.
But he quickly dismissed the thought. The ability required a dying target, and the three monsters before him were still unscathed and brimming with vigor.
He could only sigh in resignation at the uselessness of the skill meant to be his trump card.
As if refusing to give him time to think, the three rifthounds attacked again in a coordinated formation.
Philippe dodged the first lunge, then swung his sword to parry the second's claw swipe.
The impact's vibration shot through his shoulder.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the third rifthound open its jaws wide, ready to crush his skull with teeth as sharp as shattered stone.
With all his strength, he pushed back the claw he'd blocked, then ducked low to evade the deadly bite.
Just as he dodged, the third rifthound, which had been biding its time, launched a follow-up attack.
"Tch, fighting three of them alone is impossible," he hissed. His eyes darted around, searching for a glimmer of hope—any sign of help.
But what he saw was far worse. His friends were facing even larger packs—five, maybe eight rifthounds at once.
In his peripheral vision, he caught Emilie moving like a deadly dance among ten rifthounds, three of their corpses already sprawled at her feet.
And him? Struggling against just three.
Philippe shook his head hard, banishing the toxic thoughts poisoning his mind.
Comparing myself to someone who faces life-and-death battles daily is just stupid!
It's not a fair comparison!
He bit his lip harder, a fiery resolve burning away his fear. He steadied his stance. This time, I swear I'll wound one of them.
As if answering his challenge, one rifthound charged first.
Philippe parried the attack, but this time he poured all his strength into the push, sending the monster staggering back a few steps.
Another claw swipe came from his right. He blocked it again, then spun his body, using the sword's momentum to hurl the attacker away.
The third prepared to pounce. Same pattern. Philippe was about to block again. But then, a wild idea flashed in his mind.
If I keep doing the same thing, I'll get the same result!
Instead of blocking, Philippe stepped to the side, letting the monster sail past him.
In a split second, he positioned himself at its flank.
With a shout tearing from his throat, he raised his sword high and swung with all his might, aiming for the rifthound's neck.
CLANG!
A deafening metallic ring echoed, accompanied by a shower of sparks. His sword bounced back as if it had struck solid stone.
His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled backward. It failed!
The attack hadn't cleaved the beast in two!
The failure left him exposed.
The monsters he'd knocked back were already charging again.
In a panic, he tried to dodge. He evaded one attack, but the second rifthound's claw grazed his arm. A sharp, burning pain made him wince.
Then, suddenly, they stopped attacking, as if savoring the sight of their wounded prey.
Philippe narrowed his eyes, his gaze blazing with vengeance. A cynical smirk spread across his pale face.
"I may have failed to cut you down," he rasped, his voice hoarse.
"But…" he paused, his chest puffing with defiance. "I managed to wound one of you." He added silently, At least…
He couldn't resist a bit of bravado!
Suddenly, Philippe's eyes widened in shock.
A hysterical scream tore through the chaotic din of battle.
The scream grew closer, and a stocky figure bolted past him—the coachman!
His face was ashen, eyes wild with terror, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran blindly into the forest.
The coachman's fleeing with all his might into the woods!
Philippe gaped for a moment, too stunned to process what had just happened.
Then, shaking his head, he snapped back to reality. He's running away?
At that moment, the three rifthounds before him shifted their focus.
They seemed to lose interest in Philippe. A bad feeling gripped him.
Sure enough, in an instant, the three monsters ignored him and tore after the coachman into the dense forest.
Philippe glanced around, bewildered about how to handle this.
He needs help!
Who can help me?
But seeing his friends—each grappling with their own battles, one sweating but still fighting, another facing rifthounds with calm, heroic precision, and the last with a confident smile despite being surrounded—made it clear: no help was coming.
Right. No one's coming to assist. He had to decide.
With lungs that felt ready to burst, Philippe drew a deep breath and shouted as loudly as he could, his voice cutting through the battle's clamor.
"I'M GOING AFTER THE COACHMAN!"
Without waiting for a reply, he sprinted, following the rifthounds' trail into the dark forest. Though his body screamed with exhaustion, his grip on the sword hilt tightened.
This time, he vowed, his eyes glinting sharply, I'll cut one down.
***
A/N: If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
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