An hour and a half passed.
Martin's mind was clear again. His limbs fully recovered.
His Atmosphere Core kept spinning inside him like a silent engine, compressed with increasing force each time he pushed himself to the edge.
Without waiting for a warning, he rose and stepped into Stage Sixteen.
This time, the space was darker.
The air was thicker.
A war-drum sound echoed faintly.
And then they appeared.
Four thousand enemies. This time, divided into two monstrous factions.
Two thousand were Ox-Demon Axe Generals towering seven-foot creatures with brutal, crimson-bone armor fused into their flesh.
They carried massive blood-red axes, and each of their steps cracked the stone beneath them.
Their speed was slower than average, but their defense and attack power were overwhelming.
The other two thousand were even more dangerous though smaller.
