His right hand reached for the handle of the spear piercing his chest and furiously snapped it in half. With his left, he reached over his back and tore out what remained.
[-120]
He hurled the broken shaft aside, blood spurting from the corner of his mouth.
But he didn't even flinch.
He locked eyes with Jan—pure bloodlust burning behind them.
"ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!"
The room trembled.
With that thunderous cry, Dorakon's mana exploded outward, visible to the naked eye. Jan instinctively took a step back, startled as the waves of dark energy rippled toward him—coiling at his feet before sweeping through the chamber like smoke.
The atmosphere thickened. It became suffocating, eerie—something had changed.
"…I've seen this before," Jan muttered.
The mana slowly stabilized around Dorakon, sparks crackling around it like fireflies gone mad.
"This is going to be bad."
Jan tensed up as the dark elf lifted his gaze and locked eyes with him again.
Gripping the spear with both hands, he began forming a small orb of swirling energy at its tip.
But it wasn't like the magic Aeris used before. No—this was pitch black. Violent. Chaotic.
'Dark element.'
Even Jan could tell. Loris Thorne had mentioned it—an element only a rare few could wield. Its only natural counterpart was Light.
That's what made it so terrifying. It could overpower any mage—unless they were a priest. And even then, they'd need absurd amounts of mana to suppress it.
'Doesn't matter. I can't use magic anyway. But…' Jan braced himself, watching the orb expand in Dorakon's hands. 'I can reflect it!'
The orb grew larger. And larger.
*Ommmmmm—*
When it finally swelled to the size of a boulder, blocking Dorakon entirely behind its mass, he finally released it.
Jan watched it roll toward him—sluggish but steady. He adjusted his stance; readied himself for a perfect counter.
It closed in fast, yet slow enough for Jan to see what seemed like a trail etched into the ground in its wake.
'I—I can do it!' he thought, but then he looked closer.
It wasn't a trail. It wasn't anything at all!
The floor behind it wasn't cracked or burned. It was gone. Wiped clean out of existence.
'I—I… I can't!!!'
Panic surged.
Jan dove out of the way, heart hammering in his chest.
The orb glided past him—and struck the entrance.
There was no explosion. No sound.
Just… consumption.
It devoured the stone like it was never there, chewing its way forward until Jan could no longer see it.
Eyes wide, he scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the entrance.
The tunnel… it was now twice as wide as before.
His head snapped back toward Dorakon.
"YOU SICK BAS—!"
Another orb.
Smaller. Faster.
Jan bolted to the side as it whizzed past him.
It tore through the wall behind him like wet paper.
'I'm faster.'
Even if he couldn't reflect the orbs—he could always dodge.
But that didn't mean he could win.
Charging headfirst toward Dorakon would only lead to another beating.
'Throwing's no good either.'
He was out of spears.
Three still lay scattered on the floor, but getting to them meant risking getting caught by one of those erasing orbs.
'I did it again.'
Once again, he'd made the same mistake—he came into the Tower underprepared.
'One potion isn't enough. I should've bought some projectiles, too.' His grip tightened on the sword's hilt. 'I shouldn't have sold those throwing knives either…'
A series of naive mistakes—tiny missteps—had led him here.
But beating himself up over it now wouldn't help.
He had to think of a way to fight back.
'The only advantage I have is mobility.'
Watching Dorakon spam the same attack over and over again confirmed it.
'He's not planning to leave that spot.'
If this had been any other boss, he would've been running away by now. But Jan was certain—no matter what happened, Dorakon wouldn't chase him.
'At some point, he'll run out of mana.'
And so it began.
For a full half hour, Jan didn't stop moving, and neither did Dorakon.
Thankfully, Jan's stamina held up—barely—even though the strain in his legs was growing by the second.
Dorakon, on the other hand, maintained his pace, launching orb after orb of condensed energy. They were smaller now, quicker and more precise.
Jan started to doubt himself.
'Monsters have mana reserves, right…?' He dashed forward, shaking his head. 'Of course, they do! Every creature has one!'
Nothing was infinite.
He just had to outlast the creature.
Jan glanced back at Dorakon.
The rage was gone.
He looked calm now—eerily composed. His attacks were tighter. More surgical.
That made them harder to dodge.
'I need to piss him off again.'
Jan's eyes flicked to the chest—and then he dashed.
Dorakon's posture shifted instantly. He tensed, raising his spear to intercept.
*Ommm—* *Ommm—*
Jan ducked the first orb and sidestepped the second, then leapt forward with a flying kick.
Too far.
Dorakon had more than enough time to strike before Jan got close. He gripped his spear, readying a stab to intercept.
Jan grinned.
Just before impact, he thrust his sword into the floor, slowing his momentum—and using the hilt as a pivot, he swung himself over.
Dorakon's eyes widened as he watched the human leap over his head.
He snapped around, spear already rising to strike.
But he was surprised to find Jan standing there, lifting the chest by the handles.
Dorakon hesitated.
And Jan threw the chest—right at his face!
This wasn't an attack—just pure mischief to piss him off.
But then—
*Bang!*
[-2254]
[Congratulations! Your skill has improved: "Throwing Projectile Lv.3"]
"Damn!" Jan blinked. "That's one tough chest!"
Dorakon stumbled backward—dazed—just in time to trip on the sword Jan had left embedded in the floor and hit the ground.
His health was critically low, and Jan didn't miss a beat.
He rushed over and yanked his sword from the ground.
Dorakon was already pushing himself up. The moment he lifted his eyes—his head was already rolling through the air.
[Congratulations! You Slayed a Room Boss: Dorakon!]
[You have leveled up!]
Jan exhaled and collapsed beside Dorakon's corpse. He was ready to thrust his sword again—just to be sure—but the system notification confirmed the kill.
"I can't believe that worked."
He stared as Dorakon's head vanished into motes of light.
His hand trembled.
His heart still pounded.
'I was reckless.'
He was weaker than he thought. His swordsmanship meant little against true martial technique. Had he been a little bit slower...
'I was just lucky,' he admitted.
And if he kept relying on his good fortune, he'd eventually run out.
He pushed himself to his feet.
Glowing lights shimmered across the floor.
Jan looked at the first one under his feet.
He blinked in surprise.
"It left its spear!"
He reached down and lifted it carefully.
[Identify!]
[Enchanted Spear – "Sylshade"]
Type: Weapon – Spear
Tier: Rare
Base Damage: ???
Elemental Affinity: ???
Effects:
??? ??? ???
Durability: 120/40
"Rare?!" Jan gasped.
Everything in Archevin's store had been Common, with only a few Uncommon items mixed in.
"And those cost me a fortune."
But this?
"I could make a lot of money off this…" He paused. "...Or maybe I should use it?"
He pondered for a moment and then shook his head.
"I'm already struggling with my sword. Even with a lifetime of training…"
He moved on.
The next item shimmered softly.
The moment he picked it up, a system window appeared before his eyes.
[Sigil Stone (1/1)]
It was the item Archevin asked him to collect.
"Oh! So this is a Sigil Stone?"
He turned it in his hand.
"Looks like a token from Norse myths… except it hums."
It radiated power. Tangible, pulsing magic.
[Identify!]
[Sigil Stone]
Rank: B
[???????????????????????]
Jan tilted his head.
"…This window looks different."
Even the ranking format was off.
"B-rank? Is that good or bad?"
He had to ask later. Moreover, it was a mission item, so he kept it.
Next was a darker, glassier gem.
[Identify!]
[Essence Gem]
Rank: B
[???????????????????????]
"The question marks again…" Jan sighed. "Guess my Identify is still low."
He held it up to the light.
It looked similar to the one he sold to Archevin—but larger. Darker. Denser.
"He said this was used to enchant gear. Whatever that means."
He muttered and bent down for the last drop.
Gold.
About 300 coins.
Jan counted them twice with trembling fingers.
"…I-I guess I'm not out of luck after all."
He slipped them into his pouch, then turned to the final prize.
The chest.
The one Dorakon had guarded with his life. And the one Jan had used to crack his skull wide open.
"The main event."
Even after causing all that damage, the chest didn't even get scratched.
Jan crouched beside it—it was locked.
But the moment he touched the latch…
*Click—*
It broke open on its own.
"…Well, that's weird."
Still, he grabbed the lid and slowly raised it.
"Let's see what you were so eager to protect."