Dante's body advanced toward the lion's den, which seemed to sense his presence and came out roaring violently, trying to scare off the human intruder.
But Dante didn't even flinch. He lunged forward with a bold thrust of his spear, making the lion dodge and roar furiously at the audacity of such an inferior being.
"He hasn't even reached Level 1 and dares to attack me? He must be taught a fine lesson."
Its paw struck heavily toward Dante's body, who barely managed to dodge.
BOOOM!
The paw hit the ground, shaking it violently. Yet, that brutal strike wasn't all.
Rhaaaaw!
A sonic roar tore through the air, almost bursting Dante's eardrums. He felt blood trickling from inside his ear.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst of it — the real threat was the spiritual infrasound. Dante's body began to tremble with anxiety as his organs collided painfully within him.
"Damn…" he thought, his ears ringing, hearing fading. His body surged forward, spear rising to strike precisely at the lion's vital organs.
But still, the lion was faster — a perfect kick landed squarely against him, sending him flying, followed by another thunderous roar.
As if it knew exactly what it was doing, the roar's sound invaded Dante's mind, making his ears bleed again for a few seconds before falling silent.
He realized, in horror, that his hearing had been stolen.
Dante noticed, but kept advancing. Maybe his robotic mentality was truly killing him — if he didn't abandon it, death would claim him soon.
The lion seemed seriously injured, as its physical blows caused little harm, but its roars still tore him apart.
Raaaw!
Almost like a deep purr, the lion advanced again. Abandoning its claw attacks, it opened its jaws — its massive fangs glowing gold — and lunged at Dante.
Clack!
The bite snapped dangerously close, the beast charging straight at him. Thankfully, it missed — a direct hit would have killed him instantly.
Incredible... Dante thought. If it weren't wounded and exhausted from using its ability, I'd already be dead.
The lion changed its method of attack, striking fiercely with fangs and claws in violent succession.
Dante fell back, using his spear to brace himself — when suddenly, a small creature emerged from his body and darted toward the lion.
It was the little serpent, whipping its tail at the beast before retreating back to Dante's shoulder and vanishing into his body once more.
Dante was confused but decided to ignore it — he had no time to think.
His spear descended, slicing through the air, aiming for the lion's head — but the beast took the hit as if it were nothing.
Raaaaw!
Another roar came, but this time it had no effect. Dante's eardrums were already burst — the sound only made his body tremble.
At that moment, their eyes met. Dante saw the lion's wounded eye — a hole at its center, surrounded by dried blood crusted over its eyelids.
A smile twisted across his face — dark, menacing, almost as if he enjoyed watching his prey suffer.
That thrill drove him on. His spear seemed to dance, thrusting again and again, even when his attacks had little effect.
He was forced to change his method.
Now, Dante aimed for specific points — muscle folds, soft tissue, and weaker joints.
But the lion gave him no space. It retaliated violently, tearing into him with fangs and claws, each blow brutal and precise.
The exchange continued — both fighting for their lives.
Both had started wounded, and only one would leave alive.
The spear in Dante's hand danced fiercely, pressed back by the lion's golden claws.
And it wasn't just the two of them — the little serpent kept striking from the shadows, lashing at the lion whenever it turned away, hiding inside Dante's shirt whenever danger drew near.
Time began to show Dante's greatest fear: his failing body.
Cracks ran across his skin, bones splintered, blood vessels burst, and torn muscles quivered under unbearable tension. His instability — worsened by the loss of one arm — grew with every passing second.
Yet, Dante fought on — like a machine.
His mind valued efficiency above pain or emotion.
Unlike the lion, which fought to preserve itself.
Pain.
Blood.
The lion is hurt.
Attack.
Evade.
Survive.
Fight.
The battle hung in balance — neither yielding, neither falling.
Thrust.
Tear.
Slash.
Bite.
Dodge.
Roar.
Bones.
Blood.
The result of the fight felt both near and impossibly distant.
Dante's mind repeated its command:
> "Don't stop, Perduria. Don't stop even if I die."
Dante had named his resolve Perduria, and at that moment — when he couldn't afford to fall — that word echoed through his mind like a sacred sutra.
> "Don't stop, Perduria. Don't stop even if I die."
It was his subconscious imposing a condition upon his body — the lion must die, no matter victory or defeat.
And so the battle raged on for an hour — the most brutal and daring spectacle that forest had ever witnessed.
But the checkmate drew near.
Dante's body was covered in fractures — perhaps seventy percent of his bones broken, his muscles torn, shriveled, and strained beyond limit.
Boom!
With a mighty charge, the lion struck Dante, hurling him several meters away — and that was the perfect moment.
His broken hand barely brushed his dimensional pouch, pulling out a small, nine-petaled flower.
It was the Calactus Flower.
A bloom of regenerative properties, usually used to heal battle wounds.
But since Dante had not yet reached Level 1, the effect would be overwhelmingly intense — especially because this was a Level 1, mid-grade flower.
As soon as Dante put it in his mouth, a sweet taste spread across his tongue, followed by a torrent of mana surging through his body.
The mana coursed through his meridians, flowing unevenly toward the most damaged parts of his body.
Crack, crack, crack.
A series of snapping sounds echoed — mana began repairing his bones, the foundation of his body.
Thump, thump, thump.
Then his muscles regenerated rapidly, now firmer and stronger than before.
The immense wave of mana began leaking from his pores — his body couldn't yet contain it all.
Track!
A sharp sound rang out — Dante broke free from his improvised splint, regaining use of his left hand.
In a swift motion, his spear vanished, replaced by a bow.
Arrows flew one after another toward the golden-fanged lion, who refused to fall.
Traumatized by the injury to its eye, the beast dodged each shot with precision — yet its fury grew.
Veins bulged beneath its fur, which began turning crimson, and a dark smoke seeped from its skin.
Boom!
In an instant, the lion was in front of him — its heavy paw cracking the ground with a blow Dante narrowly dodged.
Retreating, he kept firing point-blank arrows, but none pierced the lion's skin — no matter where they struck.
What the hell is this form? Dante thought, realizing the lion's attributes had skyrocketed absurdly.
Raaaw!
A roar ripped through the sky — far more brutal, saturated with the beast's hatred.
Dante felt an uncontrollable terror — his movements faltered, his footing slipped, and his mind lost focus.
Scrash!
A claw tore into Dante, his newly healed arm now marked by a deep wound.
Blood flowed rapidly. The blood loss, the spiritual infrasound, and his deafness dragged him into total instability.
From the start of the fight, this was the first time Dante had truly felt lost.
Every trace of reaction had been broken — this was his most vulnerable moment.
He was one step away… from losing.