With hope nearly crushed, Faerith forced herself to move. Gathering every last ounce of resolve she had left in her heart, she gripped the whip tightly. Then she charged, roaring like a wounded beast driven into desperation.
The Blood Beast struck back, but this time the young lady endured. She dodged its claws and snapped her whip in return, her body moving on instinct alone. But its hide was unforgiving—each strike bouncing off hardened fur.
Then came the counter, a brutal blow smashed into her, sending her crashing into the wall.
Pain erupted, spreading through her nerves. Faerith coughed violently, blood spilling from her lips.
[Health: 75 / 109]
Agony coursed through her entire being, far worse than before. Her thoughts spiraled, panic clawing at her mind far more than the beast.
Fuck, If I don't act now I'll be dead. This thing is nothing like the others.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up, her body shaky. The beast stood unmoved, towering over her. It stepped back, its massive frame tensing as it prepared another devastating attack.
Faerith's body screamed in protest. Her organs felt torn, her strength failing. Without the system, she would already be dead but surrendering was not an option.
She stood still, taking ineady breaths. Her eyes were shut as she readied herself for any attack, but then—she saw it. The beast's form appeared in her mind, its silhouette glowing faintly.
One spot stood out clearly—its stomach, shining like a mark pinpointed by a force.
W-what… was that?
The Blood Beast charged again, hot saliva spraying from its jaws.
Faerith moved before fear could stop her.
She ran straight toward it, dropped low, and slid beneath its towering body. With perfect timing, she snapped her whip upward, striking the exact spot where the fur thinned and flesh lay exposed.
The beast roared—this time in pain.
It thrashed wildly, smashing into a pillar and shattering stone.
Faerith scrambled back to her feet, staring in disbelief—then smiling.
A notification flickered before her eyes.
[Damage +1]
–5 HP
[The Blood Beast — Lv. 5]
HP: 195
MP: 145
Now she understood. What she had seen in that moment of vulnerability and stillness was non other than its very weakness.
Faerith chuckled brightly, confused but joyful, "I've got you now," she said, her voice now steady and firm.
With renewed confidence and a sharpened resolve, she charged forth again—swinging, striking, and weaving through every attack.
——
Faerith struck the beast's weak point another time. Pain burst outward, blood spraying across her skin. It was a messy sight, brutal in many ways. Still, she did not stop the attack.
[Damage x5]
[The Blood Beast — Lv. 5]
HP: 170
MP: 130
The beast shrieked, now agitated, rage swelling like a storm. As Faerith rushed in for another devastating attack, something to seal its fate, the beast threw back its head and roared out loud. A scorching crimson aura burst from its body, heat crashing into her like a wave.
"Tch—what is that?" she hissed, shielding her face as the air burned her lungs.
Taking the defensive route, she lepat back, whip clenched tightly. A red mist poured from the beast, swallowing its entire form. Bones cracked inside the fog. Growls began to twist and multiplied, no longer natural.
Then suddenly, silence.
The must vanished in a blast of steam, pouring out. Heavy footsteps echoed forward. The system flared red with a hauntng message.
[Caution: The Blood Beast has reached Second Stage]
Second stage? What could that even possibly be?
The beast emerged, a heavy growl escaping its jaws. Still clocked in red fur, but now standing upright. Its shape was eerily feminine, yet feral, twisted by claws, fangs, and wild hunger. Familiar… but just wrong to gaze upon.
This was no longer a wolf. What looked a lycan had emerged.
[A Blood Lycan has emerged]
No weak points detected. All abilities unavoidable.
[The Blood Lycan — Lv. 5]
HP: 170
MP: 250
Faerith straightened, breathing steady. "At least now," she muttered, "I can fight it properly."
Her confidence only fueled its fury. In an instant, the lycan vanished.
In a blink of an eye, it was behind her.
She spun, arms raised—but no claws struck. Instead, its jaws were wide open, fangs lunging for her throat.
Her breath caught.
[Psychic Cooldown Completed]
Fuck—just in time!
Psychic energy flared around her palms as she drove it straight into the creature's throat. The lycan but down with terrible force.
Pain exploded as Faerith screamed, blood pouring out freely.
[Health: 54 / 109]
Darkness clawed at her vision, in that moment it felt like she was about to pass out, but she forced herself back. Psychic force surged, wrenching its jaws apart.
"Let's see how dizzy you get!" she shouted.
Her whip snapped out, binding the lycan tight, rendering it vulnerable. With one good arm, she swung it again and again, smashing it into walls, into the very pillars that held the battlefield.
The chamber shook violently, but it never shattered, still standing strong.
[Critical Damage!]
[Critical Damage!]
[Critical Damage!]
The beast struggled, but rage burned hotter in Faerith. When it finally weakened, she dropped the whip and charged at it.
The lycan released another wave of burning mist. Her clothes tore, her skin scorched—but she did not slow.
She struck with her fist.
Her knuckles burned, bones screamed—but something inside her had snapped. Her vision turned red. Whatever had entered her blood when this creature bit her now consumed her.
She was no longer holding back.
The lycan collapsed and now Faerith was on top of it as she kept striking, shattering fangs, crushing its jaw into ruin. At last, she wrapped her whip around its neck and pulled—hard.
Its health plummeted. With one final roar, one final struggle, she tore its head free.
Silence filled the battlefield. Her eyes finally faded back to white.
• Level Up!
• Level Up!
[Congratulations: Blood Beast Defeated]
[Health Restored]
[Mana Restored]
[PsyWhip Upgraded Lv.2]
Rewards flooded in—potions, fur, armor.
Faerith stood frozen, gasping. The pain vanished. Her wounds sealed. Strength filled her limbs like fire turned light.
The corpse dissolved into nothing.
She glanced at her torn outfit, then the empty chamber around her. Calm settled in—but so did uncertainty.
"…What now?" she whispered, thinking of Ravessa.
As if answering her prayers, the air twisted, being pulled to one direction. Wind began to howl inward, folding space upon itself. Then, a glowing purple gate formed before her.
[The Oracle has completed the Bronze Gate]
[Cross over to receive new quests]
Faerith shrugged, stepped forward—and vanished in light.
She reappeared in the chamber she bathed, right where it began, her fight through death inside a deep ocean and almost meeting her demise at the jaws of feral beasts.
Faerith released a long breath of relief. She had finally returned at last. Now all she wanted to do was rest.
She ripped away the burnt, ruined clothes and scrubbed her skin clean, washing off blood, sweat and the lingering disgust of the battle she had just fought. When she was done, her body felt much lighter—tired, but still alive.
After preparing herself, she stepped back outside into Erandale.
The city greeted her with noise. Merchants shouted, footsteps echoed, and the marketplace buzzed with life. Eyes followed her. Whispers trailed behind her steps. Yet despite it all, she felt something rare.
Peace, at last. At least for a moment.
"Look who finally decided to show up!"
Her calm shattered.
Faerith froze.
That voice… she knew it far too well.
She sighed and turned, annoyance flickering across her face. Faeul stood there, tall and unmoving, just as he always had. But this time, something felt different. The air was heavier. The outcome would not be the same.
People nearby began to notice. Some stopped walking. Others gathered, watching closely, hoping the man wouldn't hurt the girl.
Erandale was no true safe haven.
Not because of Mythics—low-level ones roamed nearby, and adventurers handled them easily. The real danger came from humans. Thieves. Drunks. Cruel men who prowled the streets at night.
Faeul was one of them now.
Once a fighter who hunted Mythics to protect the weak, he had become a vicious commoner—dangerous in a different way.
Faerith met his gaze, her expression stern.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, forcing politeness, as if the attack from the night before had never happened.
Faeul loomed over her. No one stepped in.
"You still haven't given me my refund, wench," he said coldly.
Anger flashed in her eyes—but then she smiled, her grin bright and sweet. She placed her hand behind her, where her pouch should have been. "It's right here," she said calmly. "Your refund is right here."
She tilted her head. "Come closer, and I'll give it to you."
Faeul took the bait.
He stepped forward and crouched, reaching for where her hand rested.
Disgust twisted her face as he did this.
The moment his fingers stretched closer, Faerith moved, raising her fist up and struck him hard across the jaw.
Rage twisted the man's bearded face, his teeth grinding together as pain flared through his jaw. He turned to face her but Faerith was already running.
She sprinted through the street, boots pounding against stone as she headed straight for the city gates.
Faeul roared, clutching his jaw, crimson spilling between his fingers.
"Get back here, you wench!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through Erandale.