'Damn it, you must hold on for long enough…'

Ascalon waved his bony arms, his footsteps unbelievably smooth despite being in the less-than-ideal body of an abomination.

His weapon was also inferior.

However, the SS-ranker was quickly working to solve this disadvantage, performing a harrowing sword dance fitting for a Damnedling.

He was evidently in a hurry to defeat his opponents.

Ascalon would've glanced at Daru had he had the chance to, but he also got his hands full.

If not for the fact that he was five levels ahead of the two wraiths and was an SS-ranker with sublime swordsmanship, Ascalon would be in danger himself.

In any case, he was slowly but surely whittling down the hitpoints of the Ashen Cleaners.

Only his weapon held him back from finishing the battle quickly.

Lesha, on the other hand, was a level lower, but she was much fiercer and more aggressive than Ascalon.

She moved around with great speed and nimbleness that was seemingly impossible to do in her abominable shell.

Her attacks were more deadly, but in exchange, she suffered a few minor cuts here and there.

One mistake and her life as a wretch would end…forever.

But somehow, she was yet to make such a mistake, weaving in and out of combat with fearless ferocity.

She, too, was in a rush to finish her opponents off.

The sooner she could help Daru, the better. Regrettably, like Ascalon, Lesha's weapon held her back.

Just one.

They just had to kill one of their opponents, and they could use the sharper, metallic swords until their wielders came back to life through some unholy means.

They would've wondered whether the wraiths' swords were Soulbound, too, had their minds not been occupied by urgency and worry.

But if they only had a chance to take their eyes off their opponents for a moment, they would notice that there was no need to panic at all.

Daru was holding his own.

More than well, in fact, as the Accursed Soulcatcher he was fighting was already wounded, while he was not.

There was a faint smile on Daru's face as he parried the swift and vicious diagonal strike of the armored, elite wraith, guiding its sword's blade to the side before spinning his wrist and lashing out with a slash of his own.

A dull yet nauseating thud echoed as Onimaru Kunitsuna's golden edges cut through the Accursed Soulcatcher's black armor, its entire weight slamming onto the abomination in all its vicious intent.

[-2,780!]

To Daru's surprise, he wasn't able to completely cleave the elite wraith in half.

His weapon got stuck in the peculiar texture of the Soulcatcher's flesh and bone.

The bony horror was absurdly tough, turning out to be far more difficult to kill than the burly Gravedigger.

'Good…' Daru remarked inwardly.

While his reflexes and footwork at that moment were almost flawless — his counterattack even more so — he couldn't deny that he was almost disappointed.

He had been looking forward to fighting the armored wraiths one-on-one.

It would be a bit underwhelming if they could be taken out just like that.

It was good that the white ribbon only transmitted what was said, not thought.

Otherwise, Ascalon would've been ripping his hair out of frustration.

The skirmish only grew more intense.

The two Damnedlings were more or less fine, just having trouble finishing their opponents.

Daru, meanwhile, continued to engage in a high-intensity exchange against the Accursed Soulcatcher.

Someone of his caliber could not be caught, only killed.

This was what the elite wraith believed.

And so, it didn't hold back with its strikes at all, determined to snuff the strange wretch right out of existence.

Like Lesha and Ascalon, one fatal mistake and Daru would lose his life, yet he was smiling.

Only exhilaration could be seen on his face as he waved his arms and moved his legs.

Daru and the Accursed Soulcatcher's harrowing and lethal sword dance continued, their weapons producing an echoing chorus with the Damnedlings' stone swords.

What the former lacked in physical attributes, he more than made up for with focus and technique.

Strangely, despite the intense pace of the skirmish, no one had lost their life yet.

But the equilibrium didn't seem like it would last long, either.

Ascalon was literally snarling like the abomination that he was, his usually cautious battle style forced to evolve as his intensifying worries gnawed at his sanity.

He was Egress's current leader.

However, despite his easygoing yet dependable exterior, the poor wretch, too, was desperate. Perhaps among the most desperate in Limbo to return to the Surface.

He wouldn't allow his chance to be ruined. Not on his watch.

Visitors were rare, and one who was also fierce in battle and could hold his own? Even rarer.

Daru was their best chance at getting out of here alive — at least if they were looking to leave as soon as possible.

Who knows when a top-ranker would stumble upon either a teleportation trap or an Underworld Key that would send them to Limbo?

So, the desperate, stressed-out, and extremely worried leader of the Damnedlings fought ferociously, as he had never done before.

Ascalon moved more aggressively than he was used to, suffering a few painful wounds but inflicting a deeper one on his target enemy in exchange.

Another dozen seconds later, his eyes glinted murderously as a gray jian grazed his bony cheek, missing by a slight margin.

Ascalon didn't let the chance he created for himself slip, stabbing right at the throat of the pallid servant wraith.

A moment of chilling, deathly gurgles later, the first Ashen Cleaner fell forward — dead.

The Damnedling leader dove clumsily under the approaching blade of the other wraith, grabbing the gray jian and temporarily discarding his stone sword.

He then hurriedly raised his upgraded weapon to defend himself as he was finally allowed a glance at their savior.

Ascalon turned to look, and the moment he did, his eyes widened.

Some distance away from where he was, the ghastly head of the Accursed Soulcatcher hung loosely to the side, barely held by a few fibers of rotten flesh and pallid white skin.

The elite was still fighting back, but it was also convulsing, and its attacks and movements were a mess.

Daru didn't even have to move, and the wraith's strike missed.

Then, with one swift and clean motion, the last fibers of flesh and skin were severed, and the head of the Accursed Soulcatcher fell to the ground.

Its body soon grew limp, walking a few, clumsy steps forward before tripping and falling on the powdery ash with a thud.

The elite then twitched a few times before growing still.

Clearly, the Accursed Soulcatcher was no more, felled by the savior's blade.

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