'Damn it. I have been scammed! I endured pain for absolutely nothing, not even the thrill...'

Kyle's eyes snapped open to the same sensation he had felt before dying. His Stamina remained at the same level, and so did his Vitality. This time it did not appear to be a reset as before; perhaps that had merely been a one-time trial.

At present, the only discernible change was that, after withdrawing the sword from his heart, the grievous wound had sealed itself instantly, leaving only a pronounced blade-shaped tear through his already filthy and blood-soaked garments, now drenched with even more crimson. He felt no pain from that wound, yet, more importantly, he received no boon from the Abyssal Orb.

It truly seemed a swindle, for this was not the outcome he had anticipated. It was as though he had died and endured all that agony for nothing of worth. Worse still, nearly thirty points of his Spiritual Energy had been drained for activating the item this time.

Since it functioned as an active item, each death appeared to exact this new toll, and it was a cost he could scarcely afford.

A grimace marred his features as his own blood coursed down Adela's blade. Still, he counted himself fortunate in that his Vitality had returned to its prior level, and so had his Stamina; they had not been depleted beyond his worst apprehensions, at least.

***

Spiritual Energy: 305 / 1000

- 30 expended at the cost of [Abyssal Orb]

***

"What a rip-off! Bastard!" Kyle cursed.

The fact that he had finally encountered the negative consequence of the item was really painful to bear. Right now, he really didn't want to even try to take a trip to death's abode anymore, it wasn't encouraging. And due to his previous use of his skill, he had been deducted a total of 70 points from his Spiritual energy.

Just then, something came to his mind, regarding Na-Ri's floating orb. If she used the last slot for the item in the dream to lead them away from danger, doesn't that mean it should be unreal and she should still have the last slot, or did the Manual count that as a use also?

However, he didn't have long to care about that as the Dematus seemed to have grown tired of watching its barely clinging-to-life prey having its moment of monologue.

"Kyle! Watch out!" Adela screamed the instant she saw multiple scales shoot away from the beast's body and towards him. He tightened his jaw, and jumped to the left to dodge the sharp scales.

'It can release its scales as tiny blades? Fucking new!'

On second thought, Kyle realised he was not competent with swords in the conventional sense, having not yet learnt the art. Thus the only things he knew how to use were spears or his skill, which suited his current untrained fighting style.

With that, the young man decided to wield the sword in the manner of a spear. Well, he had promised a minute's use of Adela's blade, ostensibly to kill himself, but now he required extra time to fell this creature with his limited stamina and to avoid further damage.

Kyle reversed his grip and held the sword as though it were a spear, bracing his lead hand firmly at the base of the hilt and his trailing hand near the pommel. The weight felt ungainly compared to a true shafted weapon, but the balance afforded him reach. He planted his feet wide and kept his knees bent, forcing his body into a ready stance.

The Dematus shifted its bulk and slashed a wing across the earth. Scales rasped against the ground as its other wings flared open. Then, with a snap, more scales erupted from its flanks, all streaking towards him once more. Kyle thrust forward with a quick jab and stepped aside, narrowly avoiding the volley of projectiles.

Even so, one shard raked across his thigh, shredding his tattered cloth and leaving a sharp sting. He examined it with expectation, hoping it would heal, though it did not, confirming that the item only healed death wounds instantly.

'I have to kill this bastard in five minutes at most if I want to have enough Stamina to not become a waiting meat in front of it...'

He grimaced and pulled his leg back into stance, raising the makeshift spear once more. A straight charge would be certain death. He required angles, rhythm and the tenacity to keep moving despite the burn in his muscles. His Stamina was already dwindling.

The notion of using his black thread flickered through his mind, but he dismissed it at once. The skill drained too much Spiritual energy for what it delivered. Against smaller beasts like the Scraggers the slicing lines cut deep enough to cripple and kill, but against this armour-plated brute the threads would merely graze the surface. He would squander what little energy remained and gain nothing in return, leaving himself helpless should another threat appear.

The Dematus lunged, its wings sweeping like scythes. Kyle ducked beneath the arc and jabbed the blade at the creature's midsection. The thrust connected with a clang that rang up through his arms, the point sliding uselessly along the hardened scales. He recoiled immediately, nearly losing his grip, then set his stance again. Each failed attempt ate into his body as surely as the cuts across his skin.

And soon, his breathing grew harder and heavier.

It pressed forward, snapping its mandibles and striking with a forewing. Kyle twisted aside as his shoulder brushed the hard edge of the strike and rammed the sword beneath the creature's joint. Again the sound of steel against its scales rang out, mocking his effort. He was forced back, his heels dragging through the dirt, until he broke free of its momentum.

The battle descended into a cycle of attack and retreat. He stabbed at its flanks, its wings, its torso, always seeking an opening, and every time the scales deflected him with cruel efficiency. He began to angle his thrusts differently, recalling that a spear's value lay not only in power but in precision. Instead of striking dead on, he adjusted to slide along the edges of the plates, probing the gaps where scale met scale.

The Dematus grew more agitated, its wings hammering the ground in relentless waves. Kyle dodged left, then right. His legs wobbled under the exertion, and each step drained further stamina until his lungs burned and his arms threatened to give way. He resembled a desperate stray, snapping and clawing with whatever strength remained.

A sudden sweep of its hind wings caught him by surprise. He crossed his arms over his head and braced the sword as a guard; the blow smashed him backwards. His back slammed into the earth and the air blasted from his chest. Spots clouded his vision. He rolled aside just as another volley of scales tore through the ground where he had lain.

Dragging himself upright, he spat blood and growled under his breath. He had faced something overwhelming, and every lesson returned with brutal clarity. Never stay still. Never take the same angle twice. Never let the other bastard think you are beaten until you truly are.

When it struck again, he darted inside the sweep rather than away from it. The risk was brutal, yet he jammed the sword forward like a spear at the narrow seam where wing met torso. The thrust did not penetrate deeply, but the beast shrieked and lurched back, wings beating wildly. The recoil wrenched the sword from his hands, and he dived to snatch it before the next strike could land.

His body was now drenched in sweat and blood after he had finally drawn a reaction. That seam was weaker and thinner, though fortunately not unbreakable. He planted the blade beneath his arm, using both hands on the grip as though bracing a spear for the charge.

The Dematus advanced again, enraged. Kyle side-stepped with all the strength left in his legs and drove the sword once more into the same joint. This time he angled the thrust upward and poured every last drop of power through his arms. The steel forced its way between the plates with a screech.

The beast convulsed.

Adela was watching him, completely awed by his determination and perhaps his will. She realised that his first move to kill himself had not brought the result he expected and had instead left him in the same disastrous position as before. Still, this fighter was not backing down, even though one of his hands could scarcely hold the sword any longer.

She was simply amazed.

This was the same man who had once taken down a Demon after respawning, was it not?

At last, she could gauge his threshold.

"That's good!" Kyle roared as he twisted the hilt, driving the blade deeper until the resistance gave way.

Hot, ashen blood gushed across his hands. He wrenched the sword free and staggered back as the creature collapsed. Its massive frame shuddered before falling still.

He stood hunched, gasping for air with the sword dangling low in his grasp. His arms trembled uncontrollably, and his legs threatened to give way. Every part of him screamed with exhaustion, but the beast lay dead at his feet.

Kyle spat to the side and steadied himself against the hilt. His eyes stayed fixed on the carcass to ensure it was truly dead. Only then did he allow a slow, bitter laugh to escape.

***

[Alert!] You have slain a Cursed-rank Dematus

[Reward] StarGod Twin Daggers

(Information: In the face of peril, the favoured artefact of the fallen StarGod has been bestowed upon you. Take flight into chaos with twin blades in hand)

Congratulations on your remarkable achievement, [Clueless]

[Your needs have been fulfilled]

***

Kyle managed a smile as he fell to the ground.

"Wow… are the stars my constellation? Pfft. I've finally got a weapon at last — now, what danger is approaching next…?"

Soon enough, his eyes drifted into exhaustion, spiralling him into slumber from fatigue.

The last thing he heard was Adela's fading voice and a long, bell-like sound stretching in his ears as his eyes closed.

Then, a soft hand was placed upon him…

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