Luke stood atop the wall, a living barricade of roots, earth, vines, and leaves. Towering and dense, it loomed like a fortress of nature, but it wasn’t what trapped him. He reached forward, fingers brushing against an invisible resistance. No wind, no movement, just the strange stillness of an airtight dome. The Stone Echo Sanctuary was sealed inside some kind of magical barrier. Maybe that’s why even the Beast Lord hadn’t been able to breach this place.

His eyes dropped to the screen displaying his newly acquired skill, earned when he hit level 40 in the Assassin class. This skill… it was going to be the core of his strategy to kill the monster.

[Time remaining until the Stone Echo Sanctuary wall disappears: 0 days, 0 hours, 02 minutes and 37 seconds]

The serpent was just there, waiting. Silent. Patient. And Luke was thinking the exact same thing.

He opened his system interface.

Name: Luke

Level: 31

Race: Half-Demon

Rank: F

Class: [Demonic Assassin (Lvl 42)]

Profession: [Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 38)]

Titles: [Dark Lord]

Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]

Health Points (HP): 2570/2570

Mana Points (MP): 2370/2370 (2420)

Stamina: 1540/1540 (1740)

Soul Fragments: 62/1000

Stats:

Strength: 371

Agility: 267 (317)

Endurance: 154 (174)

Vitality: 257

Perception: 300 (310)

Intelligence: 237 (242)

Free Points: 23

He stared at the unspent points. Three days. That’s how long he’d wrestled with uncertainty. Every point might be the difference between surviving and being shredded to pieces. Should he invest in strength for damage? Split them across key areas? Agility, for more speed? Vitality, for a bigger health pool? Perception, to increase accuracy?

He’d leveled up, though not as much as he’d hoped. Most of his time had gone into prepping. Everything he’d need for one shot at survival. The countdown had been a psychological war. But now, with less than three minutes left, he felt… calm. A still, eerie calm, like the surface of a pond just before a storm.

Without hesitation, he dumped all the points into Endurance.

Stats Updated:

Endurance: 154 (174) -> 177 (197)

Stamina: 1770/1770 (1970)

He picked up Angelica’s bow. Weeks of training had honed his aim since the day he acquired it. The kukris were deadly, but limited in range. Arrows could travel farther. And against that serpent, distance meant everything. Staying out of its lunge and its acid.

He pulled a single arrow from the quiver and drew the string. The serpent loomed far off beyond the barrier. Luke held the arrow steady, feeling its weight, measuring the gap. No wind. He took a breath. That first shot would trigger it all. The moment the barrier dropped, the monster would come. And in that exact moment, he’d have to move, react, unleash everything.

His eyes flicked to a familiar skill.

[Force Infusion (Rare)]: By channeling stamina into a weapon or projectile, the impact becomes drastically stronger, triggering a burst of power on contact. The more stamina consumed, the more devastating the strike. This can launch enemies, break defenses, and even destabilize the surrounding terrain.

“The more stamina I pour in, the harder the impact, huh…” Luke muttered.

Back when he fought the Midnight Warden, he’d used this same skill to shatter the monster’s helmet, while only having 590 stamina. Now, he had 1970. What would happen if he channeled all of it into a single arrow? More importantly, what would happen when that arrow hit the Beast Lord?

He wasn’t aiming to just hurt it. He was aiming for the eye, the most vulnerable spot, the quickest path to the brain. His eyes locked on the serpent. No wounds, no blood. It was pristine. Fully regenerated. Just like him, it had recovered completely. Luke drew a deep breath, then began channeling stamina into the arrow. His hands trembled as the energy surged through him, raw and volatile.

[Time remaining until the Stone Echo Sanctuary wall disappears: 0 days, 0 hours, 01 minute and 48 seconds]

He glanced between the glowing arrow and the monster in the distance.

[Stamina: 1835/1970]

[Stamina: 1785/1970]

This was, without a doubt, insane. He was going to face a monster that could kill him in a hundred different ways. Rip him apart. Crush him. Melt him in acid. Alone. But from the moment he woke up in that cave beneath the Forgotten Temple, he had moved forward. Again and again, through the impossible. Against systems. Against fate. And now, killing that creature was part of that same path. A step toward the truth he was still chasing. The truth about his mother.

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That’s what this was about. That weight. That pain. The guilt he couldn’t erase. Because deep down, he knew she had died because of him. He only had one shot. He was going to pour everything, his entire stamina pool, into this one arrow.

The numbers kept dropping. The energy flooded through him like a river bursting its banks. Like a waterfall crashing down. The arrow began to glow faintly, wrapped in a shimmer of raw force. His fingers twitched.

[Stamina: 1245/1970]

Days of training had led to this moment. But still, fear crept in. Not fear of the monster. Fear of himself. Fear of missing. Of failing. This was it. No do-overs. No second chances. His mind, in its desperation, began whispering alternate plans. What if he didn’t fight? What if he ran to the opposite side of the sanctuary, as far from the serpent as possible? Maybe he could buy time. Maybe reinforcements would come. Maybe the Beast Lord would mark someone else and forget about him. Maybe he didn’t have to die here.

It wasn’t cowardice. It was survival. That instinct, buried in every creature. That small flame of life, pleading not to be snuffed out. But Luke crushed that flame with his own hands. And in the darkness that remained, he found resolve.

Because he was going in with everything he had. And if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be quiet, clean, or forgettable. No. He’d make it the most insane death he could manage. He wasn’t going down easy. If he had to fall, he’d drag the enemy with him.

That was how he thought. That was how a predator moved. It didn’t matter if the prey was small or towering over him. When a feline struck, it went all in. Same claws. Same fury. And if it died, it made sure to die with blood on its teeth. Leave a scar. A message: There are consequences for touching me.

And the serpent? It thought the same way. Because it was a killer too. One born and bred for the hunt. Now, two assassins stood on opposite sides of a crumbling wall, each knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Only one of them would walk away.

[Time Remaining: 5 seconds]

[Stamina: 85/1970]

Luke drew a deep breath.

[Time Remaining: 4 seconds]

[Stamina: 65/1970]

The arrow was heavy now, absurdly so. It felt like he was holding a damn anvil at full draw.

[Time Remaining: 3 seconds]

[Stamina: 50/1970]

He sharpened his perception, pushing it to its limits. Not to dodge. Not to defend. But to read the wind the instant it shifted, to trace the perfect path before it even existed.

[Time Remaining: 2 seconds]

[Stamina: 35/1970]

His heartbeat slowed. One thud at a time. Quieter. Deeper. Like a predator holding its breath.

[Time Remaining: 1 second]

[Stamina: 15/1970]

A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.

[Time Remaining: 0 seconds]

The invisible barrier vanished. Wind slammed into him, howling like a hurricane, nearly knocking him off the wall.

[Stamina: 5/1970]

The vines and wood beneath his feet groaned and shook.

[Stamina: 4/1970]

The sound of the wind was deafening now, screaming past his ears like knives.

[Stamina: 3/1970]

His refined perception hit its peak. Every nerve burned. Eyes stung, bleeding. Nose dripping. Ears ringing. He tilted the bow just slightly upward. Just enough. That was the shot. That was the angle.

[Stamina: 2/1970]

The serpent lifted its head. Forked tongue flicked. Sensing. Waiting. Still as death.

[Stamina: 1/1970]

The arrow glowed white-hot in his grip. The shaft crackled, wooden fibers splintering from the raw force pouring through it. He loosed it. The recoil threw him back like a ragdoll, his body crashing hard against the stone and vines. The arrow? It screamed through the air like a missile. A streak of burning white tearing across the sky, climbing, climbing. The serpent turned. Eyes wide.

Impact.

The explosion cracked the world open. A thunderclap so brutal it rolled across the sanctuary like a shockwave. Dust roared skyward. Entire buildings collapsed under the pressure. A cloud of debris swallowed the battlefield, and above it all, birds burst from the trees in chaotic flight.

Then…

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Laughter. Cold, rich, echoing through the dust like a damn war drum.

A shadow moved. Something massive cut through the haze. The serpent emerged. Untouched.

“You really thought… one arrow would kill me?” The Beast Lord’s voice oozed through the rubble, thick and venomous. “You emptied yourself for that shot. Every last drop of stamina, gone in one desperate gamble.”

He slithered forward, slow and deliberate, every movement precise.

“But just as you have your perception field…” The forked tongue flicked. “I have mine.”

A crooked smile twisted his scaled face. “Far older. Far sharper.”

His yellow eyes locked onto Luke, who was still sprawled across the wall, breathless and broken.

“And now look at you. Empty. Weak. Done.” The serpent loomed. “Your death has come, little rat.”

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