The second wave hit harder than the first.
The monsters surged forward from beyond the valley, larger and more savage than before. Hulking brutes, some standing nearly twice Aasal's height, with black hellscape armor plating across their bodies and crimson eyes that glowed through the smoke-choked dusk. The battlefield trembled beneath their charge.
Aasal scanned them instinctively.
[Hellborn – Lvl ???]
HP: ???
ATK: ???
DEF: ???
The screen was useless.
They crashed into the soldier lines with bone-crushing force. Bodies were tossed like ragdolls. Blood splattered across armor and weapons. Screams tore through the chaos as steel met claws.
Aasal threw himself into the fray, sword gripped tightly in his hands, mana flowing into the blade like second nature. The first monster he engaged nearly crushed his arm with a single backhand—but his instincts saved him, pivoting mid-air and slashing across its throat. The mana-laced edge cut deeper than it should have, leaving a gaping wound and sending the creature stumbling back.
But even injured, the beast didn't fall.
A second creature barreled into him, slamming its shoulder into his ribs and sending him flying across the battlefield. He rolled several feet, pain exploding in his chest.
"Gah... damn it!" he gasped, coughing up blood.
Before the monster could finish the job, a blur streaked between them. Val's blade pierced the beast's temple in one motion. He kicked it off and ran to Aasal, grabbing his collar and dragging him to cover behind a rock.
"Still breathing?"
Aasal nodded weakly. "Ribs… not so much."
Val let out a sharp whistle. "You're lucky I was close."
But as Val turned to reenter the fight, a massive claw slashed down from behind. Aasal's eyes widened as the claw tore through Val's side, blood spraying across the earth.
"Val!"
Val gritted his teeth, staggering. "Damn it..."
Aasal immediately lunged forward, spawning his spear and stabbing it through the eye into the brain, instantly killing it since it was distracted. Going back to Val, he remembered getting a reward from completing the first floor. Aasal summoned the healing potion and handed it to Val. Without hesitation, Val popped the cork and downed it. Color returned to his face almost immediately as the bruises on his body began to fade.
Val blinked, puzzled. "Huh… this stuff tastes familiar. There's something about it that..." His brow furrowed, and for a moment his eyes grew distant, as if trying to grasp something just beyond reach. Then, inexplicably, his expression went blank. "...What was I talking about?" He shook his head, looking mildly confused. "Anyway, thanks. You just saved my ass."
"Returning the favor," Aasal said, pushing himself up.
The fight raged on for hours.
Waves of monsters kept coming, their stamina seemingly endless. Soldiers were pushed back repeatedly. Val and Aasal held their position with sheer grit. Their bodies ached. Their blades dulled. But they didn't stop.
At one point, just as Aasal parried a claw swipe from one of the larger creatures, he noticed the battlefield changed. From behind the rear line, reinforcements charged forward—fresh soldiers from the castle. The ranks filled back in, the tide momentarily stabilizing.
The surge of relief didn't last long. Aasal was already covered in gashes. His breathing was shallow. But he found his rhythm again. Each strike felt sharper. More precise. His body moved with purpose and not hesitation.
But just as he cut down another beast, his sword lodged itself in its thick hide. He yanked, but it wouldn't budge.
"Dammit..."
With no time to waste, he dropped the sword and summoned his bow. Drawing an arrow, he fired into the crowd. The difference was immediate.
The air shimmered subtly around the arrow's shaft. The wind bent, guiding it. The arrow flew faster, truer—striking a beast clean between the eyes. It fell backward with a thud.
He fired again. The same result. The wind was helping him.
[Aeolus's Spirit]
He could feel it —the subtle whisper of power granted by the spirit he had absorbed. It danced around him, amplifying every movement, every shot.
With his heightened agility and coordination, he began weaving between corpses and soldiers, launching arrows at blinding speed. His accuracy was razor-sharp. Even monsters attempting to flank him were dropped before they got close.
He switched targets mid-draw. Loosed two arrows at once. Both hit. He barely even had to aim now—it was like the wind guided his intent.
But eventually, the monsters closed the distance. Forced into melee, Aasal abandoned the bow. With no time to retrieve his sword, he summoned his gauntlets and reinforced his arms with mana.
A hulking Hellborn swung at him. Aasal ducked low, mana flaring across his shoulders and legs. He launched himself upward with a twisting uppercut. The gauntlet cracked against the creature's chin with enough force to lift its massive body off the ground. It crashed to the dirt, dazed. Without hesitation, Aasal stomped forward and drove his fist down into its skull. The mana-infused strike burst its head like a melon.
The outer shell of mana around him pulsed with each movement—raw power flowing into every limb. He could feel his reactions sharpening, his muscles moving with less strain, more control.
Breathing heavily, he finally reached his sword and tore it free from the carcass.
As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hilt, something flowed through him once again.
The blade shimmered faintly—not just with his usual mana, but something gentler. Air currents spiraled around the steel, as though the weapon had called to them. When Aasal shifted the blade, the wind moved as one with it."
He cut a wide arc across two incoming Hellborn, and the air pressure behind his swing was enough to stagger a third. It wasn't just technique—it was resonance with the air around him.
His senses widened. He could feel incoming danger—not as a sound or sight, but a shift in the flow of air. A creature tried to ambush him from behind, but he spun without thinking and bisected it cleanly.
The spirit wasn't just a buff. It was a guide. An extension of his instinct.
In that moment, Aasal didn't feel like a beginner anymore. He felt like a warrior.
Nearby, a soldier screamed. "Help! Someone, please!"
Aasal turned to see a young recruit pinned beneath rubble, one of the creatures bearing down on him. Without thinking, Aasal sprinted forward, blade raised, wind rushing behind him—
But he was three steps too slow.
The creature's claw punched through the soldier's chest, lifting the boy's lifeless body like a broken toy. Blood dripped from the beast's talons.
Aasal skidded to a halt, breath catching in his throat. The recruit couldn't have been older than sixteen.
His grip tightened on his sword until his knuckles went white. Around him, the battlefield raged on, but for a moment all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.
He would keep fighting. That's all he could do.
Eventually, the wave slowed. Corpses littered the field. Aasal stumbled back to Val, collapsed beside a mound of stone and bone, and lay there gasping.
His body felt like it was stitched together with pain. Every muscle screamed. His mana was almost depleted. He couldn't keep his eyes open much longer.
"I'm… taking a nap," he mumbled.
Val's laugh echoed distantly. "Me too"
Aasal's head hit the ground, and darkness claimed him.
He awoke to red light.
A deafening siren blared across the sky, and his eyes snapped open. The atmosphere had changed.
Even the air pressed down on him like a weight. Every breath was heavy. Every sense screamed.
He looked toward the castle.
Mana cannons lined the walls—once dormant, now glowing with terrifying intensity. Soldiers barked orders. Mages chanted incantations. The earth trembled.
Then he felt it.
An oppressive presence. Thick. Suffocating. Like something ancient and hateful was approaching.
[Warning: Third Wave Approaching!]
And this time… Aasal wasn't sure they would survive it.