Chapter 25 – Epic Battle with the beast
Leon exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on his trembling hand.
It wasn't trembling from fear.
Not anymore.
It shook because something inside him was buzzing—raw, electric, alive.
Mana.
But not like before.
Not the flickering candlelight of survival. Not the shallow pool he'd learned to conserve drop by drop.
This…
This was a sea.
A storm.
No—a world.
The moment the cocoon had merged with the core inside him, something fundamental had changed. He could feel the threads now—of ice, wind, flame, stone, lightning, shadow, and more—woven through his very blood. He didn't just hold mana.
He was linked to it.
As if the elements themselves whispered beneath his skin, waiting for his call.
The thought hit him like thunder.
'I am not going to run out of mana anymore'
His fingers curled into fists. The air around them crackled faintly.
A grin broke across his face—wide, sharp, a little dangerous.
His shoulders relaxed, but his spine stood straighter than ever.
'"No more rationing. No more hesitation."'
'"You're mine now."'
A hum of power vibrated faintly through his chest, resonating with that ever-expanding core inside.
---
Across the chamber, the creature stirred.
It had watched the display—the soft bloom of light, the shattering cocoon, the seamless absorption.
Now, for the first time, it leaned forward on its throne.
Its eyes narrowed.
And Leon saw it.
Pressure.
Rising.
Growing.
The creature's aura no longer idled like coiled amusement. It was sharp now. Focused. Lethal.
The massive hammer that had rested lazily at its side was now gripped tight in both hands. It sat, still composed—but its knuckles strained.
It saw him now.
Not as a toy.
But as a threat.
Leon's eyes didn't waver.
He stepped forward once. Slow. Measured.
Their gazes met.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Recognition.
Then—
Flash.
The throne was empty.
The air split like thunder.
It moved.
But Leon had already moved, too.
His body blurred from his spot, twin daggers in hand, both wrapped in wind so dense it hummed—a keening whistle just under hearing, like the breath of a storm waiting to land.
Adept-level enhancement surged through his veins, mana threading muscle, bone, reflex.
He didn't dodge.
He met it.
Clash.
A shockwave erupted from the collision.
Stone cracked beneath their feet.
Wind howled.
And for the first time—
Leon didn't fall back.
He held.
Eyes silver.
Breath steady.
Letting the monster know:
This time, he was ready.
''''
The impact faded.
Silence followed—just for a heartbeat.
Then—
Crumble.
The stone beneath the creature's feet cracked in a spreading web.
It slid backward.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
It came to a halt, boots grinding against the floor, hammer lowered just slightly.
Its obsidian arms trembled.
Barely.
But unmistakably.
And in its eyes—just for the briefest second—
Surprise.
Leon didn't move.
Not even a flinch.
The wind coiled tightly around his form, dissipating the backlash of the collision with surgical precision. He'd layered it just before contact—a spiraling shell of pressure—and it had absorbed every ounce of kinetic force.
No recoil.
No drag.
He hadn't moved an inch.
He stood exactly where he had struck.
Poised.
Breathing steady.
Unscathed.
More than the monster—he was the one left surprised.
Not because it staggered—
But because it had endured.
His breath caught.
He'd met the charge head-on, wind-infused daggers spinning at high velocity, his body hardened by adept-tier enhancement, his timing flawless—
And it was still standing.
'It wasn't flung.'
'It wasn't torn in half.'
'It wasn't even bleeding.'
It took it.
Leon blinked.
Then snorted.
Then laughed.
Once. Twice.
Sharp and breathless.
"…Are you kidding me?" he muttered.
His voice echoed in the chamber.
The absurdity of it hit him full force.
'This is supposed to be a Class Awakening trial dungeon?'
'This is a joke.'
'This isn't a trial. It's a damn execution arena.'
He grinned through the hum of wind around his shoulders, his silver eyes gleaming.
"That thing is a beast," he whispered.
His stance lowered. Focus sharpened.
'And I'm going to crush it anyway.'
''''
The clash resumed with thunder.
Leon and the creature collided again and again, a storm of movement and momentum, each strike echoing like a siege bell through the throne chamber.
Steel met stone. Wind met fire.
The monster moved like molten iron—massive, brutal, and unnervingly fast for its size. Its hammer carved arcs through the air that would crush anything in their path, each blow a small earthquake. But Leon met them all.
He didn't land a single hit.
Not at first.
His daggers glanced off the obsidian skin. The monster dodged just enough, parried just enough. A twist of its wrist here, a shift of its stance there—and Leon's blades passed air or kissed armor.
But—
Every. Single. Time.
Leon held his ground.
The moment their weapons collided, the monster staggered.
A foot slid.
A shoulder tilted.
A knee buckled slightly under pressure.
Every impact favored Leon.
The wind around him—layered, rippling, whispering—blunted incoming force and reflected it outward in bursts of sonic pressure. His feet didn't slide an inch. His aura didn't flicker. He was the eye of a hurricane built of mana and discipline.
Still, no cuts. No blood.
Leon grit his teeth as he danced away from a sweeping horizontal blow, the hammer shrieking as it tore a crater into the obsidian floor.
'"Still no openings…"'
The creature's strength was monstrous. But its control?
Terrifying.
'That thing's fighting me like it's done this before. Like it's studied me.'
He twisted sideways, avoiding a downward smash, then used the recoil to spring upward. His daggers sang through the air—right at the neck—
Clang.
The monster's elbow intercepted, redirecting the blade.
He dropped, rolled, deflected another strike with crossed daggers.
'"It's learning."'
Leon landed, back-skidded, re-centered himself.
His eyes narrowed.
Then—
A whisper to the wind.
He reached inward.
Deeper.
And released more.
The mana around him surged.
The wind howled.
A spiral wrapped around his limbs, ankles, forearms—forming bands of twisting air so tight they shimmered like glass blades in motion.
Acceleration.
He vanished from sight.
The monster blinked.
Then—
Crack.
A blur of silver and wind struck its side.
A clean cut.
A shallow line across the hip, smoke rising where dagger met dense flesh.
Leon zipped behind it, wind screaming in his wake, and struck again—slash to the calf.
The monster snarled and turned—but too late.
A third hit across the back.
A fourth at the ribs.
Each wound barely surface-deep. But they were wounds. Real ones.
And they were accumulating.
'"Now you're bleeding."'
Leon's smile didn't reach his eyes.
He shot forward again—blades coated in vibrating wind—crossed for a chest-strike, but this time, the monster didn't meet him.
It jumped back.
Hard.
Sliding nearly ten meters with a massive exhale, its breath now tinged with steam.
Leon stopped mid-step.
The air changed.
So did the temperature.
A hiss like coals being drowned echoed across the chamber.
Then—
Fire.
It bloomed around the creature like a divine flare, coating the obsidian skin in flickering red-orange heat. The hammer pulsed in its grip—veins of liquid magma running through the handle—and fire coiled along its head like a beast waking up.
The throne behind it cracked under the heat.
Flames spiraled to the ceiling.
Leon narrowed his eyes.
'"So that's what you were hiding."'
The creature raised the hammer again—this time, not to swing.
But to ignite.
With a roar that shook the walls, it charged.
The hammer came down like a meteor.
BOOM.
But the strike didn't connect.
Because Leon had moved.
He met fire with ice.
His right dagger surged blue—a spike of crystalline cold bursting forth, colliding with the flame in a hiss of steam.
His left dagger slashed upward, wind-accelerated, catching the monster under the ribs before it could react.
The creature howled as frost crawled up its side, extinguishing some of the fire.
Leon didn't stop.
Wind whipped his body around in a spinning arc—daggers slashing, ice forming along their edges mid-swing, colliding with the monster's burning defense.
Fire versus Ice.
Speed versus Mass.
A storm versus a volcano.
And Leon?
Was winning.
His body blurred between strikes. Each movement was refined, controlled. He layered wind for speed, used ice to deflect heat, struck low to slow it, high to disorient.
One cut became two.
Two became five.
The beast was bleeding now—steam and embers leaking from every gouge.
Leon didn't smile.
Not yet.
Because he knew what it meant—
The creature was getting serious.
'And I'm still not done.'