The Midnight Warden stared at Luke with silent hatred. That rotting face, lipless, covered in dried, necrotic flesh. One eye burned like an ember inside the decaying skull. They were both falling apart. Luke could barely stand. Alone now, with Charlie gone, and the monster still standing.

At least the bastard looks as wrecked as I feel, Luke thought, feeling the sharp, deep ache from the lance wound still tearing at his side.

The creature’s armor was shredded, entire chunks missing, scattered on the floor. Its helmet had been obliterated when Luke threw his kukri with all the stamina he had left. Now the monster raised its sword again, eyes locked on him.

Luke’s arms barely worked. But every second was precious. He looked at his stamina bar.

[Stamina: 300/590]

The two potions had recharged his body just enough. He grabbed the last one from his necklace.

I have to… try.

But time ran out.

“ROOOOOAAR!!”

The Warden’s roar tore through the cavern as it charged with its sword raised high. Luke barely reacted in time. He had no strength left to move his body—but he’d burn his stamina to the bone if he had to. He downed the potion and activated Refined Perception.

Pain exploded behind his eyes like a lightning bolt through his skull. The kukri snapped back to his hand with magnetism, and he raised it just in time.

The Warden’s blade came crashing down.

Luke blocked. The force of the impact, amplified by the way he had forced stamina through his shattered muscles, traveled through his bones like a hammer blow. Something cracked. His arm. The bone was broken.

He clenched his teeth and endured it.

The creature snarled inches from his face and raised the sword again. Luke rolled clumsily to the side. Both of them were exhausted, slowed, drenched in pain. The blade struck stone where he had just been.

Luke staggered up, dragging himself along the ground. He pulled his other kukri back with magnetism—but his arm wouldn’t move. It just wouldn’t.

He looked back—too late.

The Warden was already there.

Luke dodged the first strike. Duck. Rise. The second passed overhead.

The third connected.

The blade slashed across his stomach, biting deep. The Warden’s fist followed, slamming into his chest and launching him across the cave like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard. Everything spun.

He was at the edge.

[Health Points (HP): 193/1220]

[Mana Points (MP): 519/880]

[Stamina: 417/590]

Luke tried to rise. The Warden marched toward him, slow and certain, every step echoing like a funeral bell.

The third stamina potion had bought him breath—but nothing more. His injuries were too many. His muscles refused to respond. He staggered. Collapsed to his knees. Fell forward, face to the cold dust.

[Health Points (HP): 168 / 1220]

His vision blurred. He could barely make out the silhouette of the monster approaching. Like death itself, walking.

“I… can’t… die here…” he whispered. Barely a breath.

He forced his stamina to circulate, pushing energy where he needed it most—muscles, organs, skin. Every cell screamed in protest. He wanted to stand. He wanted to fight.

But his mind… had already given up.

The pain was drowning him. He was too mentally drained to truly resist. And maybe… maybe it would be easier to just let go. The blood kept flowing, hot and steady, soaking into the stone beneath him.

[Health Points (HP): 159 / 1220]

The Warden roared, then stopped right in front of him. The creature stared in silence, like an executioner preparing to carry out his duty. The blade rose above its head, heavy with finality.

Luke closed his eyes. The stamina he’d been forcing through his body was slipping away. His strength faded like a candle dying out. It wasn’t fear anymore. It was resignation.

But his mind wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t let him rest.

There, on the edge of death, the questions came rushing back. Had I really done everything I could? Did I use everything I learned? Was there something I missed? Something I could have changed?

He laughed to himself. No flashbacks. No life flashing before his eyes. Just the cold taste of solitude. Of how small he really was. Stamina reinforcement had kept him alive this long. But he couldn’t even lift his own arm anymore.

The Warden’s sword gleamed red. A skill had been activated. The next hit would be fatal.

Luke gave a soft, bitter laugh. If only… if only I could reinforce my body with mana.

Absurd.

But then… something sparked. A thought. Thin as a thread: ‘Who says you can’t reinforce the body with mana?’

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The thread became a wire.

The sword came down.

Luke’s eyes snapped open. With pure desperation, he fumbled to activate his Dash and rolled sideways at the last possible moment. The blade struck the ground with earth-shaking force, splitting the stone where his skull had just been.

Panting, Luke scrambled back, kukri in hand. His eyes locked onto the enemy’s sword. It glowed red. It pulsed.

Mana!

The Warden turned to face him, eyes blazing with rage.

Luke started coughing. His chest burned. But his mind—his mind raced like never before. That single thought was no longer a thread. It was a path. He didn’t know how, but he knew the answer was there.

[Health Points (HP): 133 / 1220]

The enemy’s gaze burned with fury. But Luke wasn’t on the ground anymore.

He was learning.

He tried to step forward, but his legs collapsed beneath him. He dropped to his knees, his body barely holding together. The pain wasn’t a warning anymore—it was a sentence. At this pace, he wouldn’t last another three minutes.

But then—one last, reckless idea surfaced.

There was no way to reinforce the body with mana. Not with what he currently knew. Not in the few seconds he had left. Learning it now was impossible. Unless he cheated. Every time he used Wraith Form, he felt his body vanish—flesh, bone, blood—all becoming living mist. And that form was made of magic.

It was mana.

The Midnight Warden charged, roaring, sword raised to cleave him in two.

Luke stared him down, eyes burning. “COME AND GET ME!”

And he released everything. All of it.

His body exploded into mist. Dense. Black. Alive. The fog surged out of him like a tidal wave, filling the cave with darkness. Thick shadows blanketed every inch of space. The Warden swung blindly, blades slashing at the air, trying to carve through the smoke—but more kept pouring in. Thicker. Heavier. Until even the Warden realized—he was trapped. Inside the dark.

[Health Points (HP): 116 / 1220]

He inhaled. Part of his theory had worked. He was still physical inside the fog—without turning into mist, just expanding the mana from his ability. The black vapor swirled around him like a second skin, but inside… his body burned. Blood soaked through his clothes. Every heartbeat sounded like a countdown to the end.

But he stood. He raised his kukri, mana pulsing in every breath, every nerve, every bone. Now he understood. Wraith Form wasn’t just an escape—it was a body made of mana. It was a path.

“I’m an assassin.”

He ran. One step. Two. Three. Inside that fog.

The Warden roared, spinning with his sword in a wide arc—a sweeping judgment of steel. Luke screamed, not in fear, but in pain, rage, and the final shreds of life he still clung to. And he leapt.

The Warden charged through the mist and struck nothing. A scream came from above. The monster lashed upward, slashing at the air, but hit only smoke.

Luke was nowhere—and everywhere. He darted through the haze, vanishing between shadows, striking from odd angles with blades and throwing daggers. Hit. Fade. Hit again. The battlefield was his. The fog pulsed with his mana, and he was no longer within it. He was it.

He became the predator.

The Warden growled, slashed, spun—but struck nothing. A kukri sank into the back of its leg, cutting through broken armor. The creature howled, kicked—but Luke had already vanished, slipping back into shadow.

Above. Below. Beside. The Warden struck again and again, but his blade passed through nothing but ghosts of vapor. Luke emerged in flashes—parried, struck, disappeared. Then he dropped from the ceiling with a powerful kick to the Warden’s chest.

The fog shifted.

Shadows rose beside him—dozens of silhouettes made of black mist, reflections of himself, all surging forward. The Warden howled in rage, lashing out, slicing through illusion after illusion, but they kept coming. From the walls. From the stone. From the dark.

Luke no longer needed to flee. He was everywhere.

The Warden spun in panic, blades carving arcs of pressure—but it wasn’t enough. Luke struck again, his kukri biting deep into a cracked backplate. The Warden staggered, swung wildly, screamed, but Luke was already gone.

[Health Points (HP): 62/1220]

Blood poured from his wounds, but he smiled. The monster was stumbling. More clones circled. More fog thickened.

[Health Points (HP): 48/1220]

And then—Luke.

He roared, his voice swallowed by the black, echoed by a chorus of phantom screams. The fog came alive. The Warden turned, eyes flaring, sword trembling in his grip. But he didn’t know where to look.

Didn’t know where to strike.

That’s when Luke emerged from the shadows—charging with everything he had left. The Warden intercepted the strike, roaring in fury, his swords flying like cyclones, a storm of steel. Luke deflected, barely holding on. He leapt, and the mist wrapped around him midair, molding a twisted smile and glowing eyes where his face should be.

The monster lunged to kill—but Luke wasn’t there.

[Health Points (HP): 29/1220]

Then came the sound.

“AAARGH!”

The creature roared in pain. It spun, slashing with both blades, exchanging brutal strikes with Luke at blinding speed. Luke screamed, his arms cracking, bones shattering—but he kept moving. He kept fighting. He channeled every last drop of stamina.

[Health Points (HP): 8/1220]

[Health Points (HP): 7/1220]

[Health Points (HP): 6/1220]

The Warden chased him—but found only fog. Dozens—no, hundreds—of shadow silhouettes surged from the mist. All of them hurled black smoke-blades at once.

[Health Points (HP): 5/1220]

The Warden spun his sword, trying to swat them away, screaming as he unleashed a wave of raw mana. A gust tore through the mist.

But just then—Luke appeared from above. He threw a kukri. The Warden deflected it. It exploded into smoke—a decoy. From inside it came more shadows, a swarm lunging from every angle. An ambush.

The Warden spun violently, cutting them down. He saw through it. He knew it was a distraction. And he found the real Luke. He drove his sword in.

A cruel smile twisted across the Warden’s decayed face.

He’d won.

Luke spat blood.

[Health Points (HP): 3/1220]

“I won…” said Luke.

Then he noticed Luke’s arm—it wasn’t there. His senses screamed. He turned. A silhouette of mist was charging him, and in its hand, a kukri—Luke’s real arm, materialized, bound to the darkness.

The blade plunged straight through the Warden’s skull with a sickening shhhk. The creature dropped Luke and staggered back.

At least I tried, Luke thought. At least I figured out how to materialize part of my body inside the fog… at the very end.

His vision dimmed. The Warden glared at him.

[Health Points (HP): 2/1220]

The monster reached out with a trembling hand toward the blade lodged in its skull. Its fingers brushed the cold metal, but its body wavered. Staggering, it fought to stay upright, but strength slowly slipped away. Unable to hold itself any longer, it fell heavily to the ground, the sound of impact echoing in the stillness.

[Health Points (HP): 1/1220]

Luke’s body dropped beside him. He closed his eyes. He welcomed death.

[You have slain a Midnight Warden – Lvl 40]

*Your class [Demonic Assassin] has reached Level 28! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

**[You have reached Level 14! Half-Demon (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)**

Then his body began to glow. Leveling up had triggered regeneration—HP, stamina, mana—fully restored.

He stood alone in the silence.

He had survived.

[An item has been added to your inventory]

He had really done it. He won.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep