I had made a huge mistake.
I shouldn't have gone in without a plan.
I rushed in, and the result was written all over my body before I even needed to look.
I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily.
Just standing was a challenge on its own.
The pain didn't come in a single wave—it was spread everywhere: my back, my shoulder, my stomach, even my legs.
Every breath I took reminded me of what had happened in there.
It felt like I could lose consciousness at any moment if I let my guard down.
I silently examined my condition. I didn't need a mirror to understand how bad it was.
My body was weighed down by injuries, and even my thoughts felt slow and exhausted.
If it weren't for the painful experiences I had gone through in previous battles, I would have collapsed a long time ago.
Back there… everything could have ended so easily.
I opened my bag and took out the healing potions.
I didn't think much about it. I lifted the bottles and drank them all at once.
The taste was awful, as usual, but I didn't stop. After a few minutes, I began to feel a slow change.
The pain didn't disappear, but it retreated slightly, as if someone had eased the pressure on my body.
I could move again—barely, but enough.
I took out a spare set of clothes and put them on.
My old clothes were torn, soaked in blood from every side, almost stuck to my skin.
There was no way I could keep wearing them. When I finished, I felt a slight chill, but it was far better than that sticky, unpleasant feeling.
I slowly stood up and lifted my head, looking toward the grave.
Just looking at it made my body tremble slightly.
The images returned to my mind without warning—every movement, every strike, every moment I had been close to death.
And the more I thought about what had happened, the clearer the feeling became…
He hadn't been fighting me at full strength.
I realized it clearly now. During the fight, something had felt off.
It was as if I wasn't facing a fully serious opponent. As if he had been testing me… or playing with me. The thought alone made my stomach tighten.
I unconsciously tightened my grip, then opened my storage and took out my sword.
The warmth of its handle steadied me slightly. It was real, familiar in weight, and its presence helped calm my scattered thoughts.
I checked my remaining resources. Only three potions were left: one healing potion and two stamina potions.
I had thought I brought enough, but reality proved otherwise.
That alone made me let out an annoyed breath.
I clearly felt my bad luck.
Since coming to this world, nothing had gone according to plan.
Every step had been harder than expected.
And in that moment, that unpleasant feeling returned even stronger… the feeling that I was cursed with terrible luck.
I took out the stamina potions and drank them both.
The taste was horrible, as always. Every time I drank them, I felt a faint sting spreading through my body, as if reminding me that this wasn't natural. I ignored it and waited.
About an hour passed.
When I felt that my body had recovered enough, and that I was capable of fighting again, I stepped forward without much hesitation.
Toward the grave.
The moment I took a single step, killing intent struck me again. This time, it was far stronger.
It felt like direct pressure crushing my chest.
I stopped without realizing it.
The sensation was strange—my body wanted to move forward, but my mind completely refused.
It wasn't just fear; it was a clear warning. Something inside me was telling me that going in now could be fatal.
My breathing became uneven, my chest tight.
I stood there for several seconds, neither advancing nor retreating.
Then I activated Calm Analysis.
The moment I did, everything settled.
The thoughts clashing in my head vanished, and my mind became unexpectedly clear.
The danger didn't disappear—but it became visible, defined, something I could deal with.
I took another step forward.
And then I saw him.
He was standing there in the distance, in the exact same spot as when I had entered the first time. He didn't move.
He didn't seem surprised by my presence.
That stillness was worse than any attack.
When I saw him clearly, I tightened my grip on my sword and took a deep breath.
I focused as much as I could.
There was no room for overthinking. Either I moved now—or I lost my chance.
I pushed myself forward and activated Phantom Step.
In a brief instant, my body vanished from where I stood.
It felt as if the ground was pulled out from beneath me, and then I appeared directly in front of him.
I didn't hesitate. I raised my sword and launched a surprise strike at his head. I was almost certain it would hit.
But at the last moment, he moved.
His body shifted slightly, and the trajectory of my strike changed.
Instead of his head, my blade cut into his shoulder.
A strange black liquid burst from the wound, and he stepped back.
I tightened my grip on the sword. This wasn't the outcome I wanted—but I wasn't surprised.
I knew from the start that one strike wouldn't be enough.
I looked at him and saw him staring at the injured spot.
He kept watching his shoulder for several seconds, as if he couldn't believe what had happened.
It wasn't pain… it was genuine shock.
Then he lifted his gaze toward me.
At that moment, his expression changed.
It wasn't direct anger, but something heavier—like he felt insulted.
The atmosphere around him grew denser, as if the air itself had become heavier.
And suddenly—he vanished.
I didn't even have time to catch my breath.
He appeared in front of me in the next instant, far too close.
I tried to raise my sword to block his attack, but my reaction wasn't fast enough.
He struck me in the stomach.
My body was sent flying backward, my back slamming violently into the wall.
The air was forced out of my lungs, and sharp pain exploded inside me.
I bent forward uncontrollably and vomited blood onto the ground.
I stayed there for a moment, doing nothing but trying to breathe. Then I forced myself to stand.
I wiped the blood from my mouth with my sleeve and lifted my head to look at him again.
I was still standing.
And the fight… wasn't over yet.