Ren didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second, pulling another sword from his inventory and gripping it tightly, like the only guiding arrow in the midst of a chaotic storm.
He charged straight toward the monster, moving so fast that he created an afterimage, a faint streak of light blurring through the hallway.
The blade plunged directly into the chest area, where the skin was thinner than usual, slipping past the grotesque, flailing arms that swung like guillotines, slicing through flesh and viscous fluid.
Black blood sprayed from the cut, a pungent, fishy odor spreading, and the monster shrieked, the jarring sound vibrating rhythmically, making the hallway feel as though it was about to collapse under the terrifying pressure.
But Ren had long since retreated from that position, moving fluidly, his body precisely tensed.
The creature's long, bony arms slashed through empty space, slamming into the cold stone floor with a sharp, metallic clang, leaving fine cracks in the stone.
The gaps between the arms opened up; Ren's movements were rhythmic and flexible, transforming the chaos into an opportunity. Step by step, strike by strike, his cuts were both defensive and offensive, every motion carrying the breath of his survival.
Ren's footwork was graceful, light like a dancer's, practically gliding across the cold stone floor.
He tapped lightly against the wall, using the force to spring himself behind the monster. He swung his arm hard, the blade flashing with pale steel light, severing one of the creature's longest arms.
The response was a series of bloodcurdling screams, sounding like metal being chewed up in a throat, echoing throughout the corridor, intensifying the sense of horror and pressure.
Ren did not stop. He continued to move, every step and rhythm purposeful, looking for openings to pull the sword out of the monster's head a few times, but simultaneously knowing he should keep the blade lodged there as a decoy, diverting the enemy's attention.
'How can it still move, even with its head impaled…?' Ren forcibly suppressed the minor question in his mind, focusing on the tactic of hit-and-run attacks and fluid rhythm.
A lightning-fast slash: the blade flew through the air, cutting off the last arm attempting to pull Oathrend out of the monster's head.
A sharp, grating sound rang out, followed by the smell of slime and searing metal, creating a temporary lull in the life-and-death violence.
Ren did not allow his body to rest for too long. He knew this was the best moment to attack.
If he hesitated, the monster would grow new arms, and the opportunity would vanish.
He moved in close from behind, where the creature had just lost the arms that provided balance and assisted its movement. Its deformed legs trembled, seemingly no longer strong enough to support its entire body.
[Phantom Arc]
Ren glided lightly toward the creature's left side, his body agile. A faint violet light ran along the blade, seemingly cutting through the air, slashing straight at the monster's thin neck.
Sharp gusts of wind swept past, grazing the wrinkled skin, creating a horrifying, whistling sound.
But precisely at the moment of decision, something unexpected rippled across the creature's bulging back skin. Ren was startled; reflexively, he canceled the skill and leaped back, his body taut as a bowstring.
But it seemed to be too late. Human faces bulged from the layer of skin, their expressions horrified and pained, eyes wide open as if trying to tear through the skin, staring straight at Ren.
He felt every gaze, every whimper, like a knife pinning his brain. Immediately, the bone-chilling sound of [Banshee Scream] erupted, hitting his head like a sledgehammer, paralyzing his entire body and sending his heart into a frantic rhythm.
Ren felt like his ears were being filled with a warm, throbbing liquid that ached deep into his brain, while a blurry film obscured his vision entirely.
It wasn't fog or dust... it was blood, blood streaming from his eyes and ears, seeping out of his armor past the neck, dissolving into fragmented red pixels that fluttered down to the floor like crushed rose petals.
He landed on the ground with a stagger, his body shaking, cold sweat soaking his Onyx armor. Every step was an effort to maintain his fragile balance.
His hand gripped the wall, as if anchoring him in the chaotic world, but his hands were still trembling, limp as if they had just been pulled from a freezer. Every muscle was tense yet exhausted, barely strong enough to support his body weight.
The faces on "its" bizarre skin began to writhe, merging into a single, twisted, distorted entity. The empty eye sockets stared fixedly at Ren with a brutality and horror he couldn't explain.
That gaze seemed to penetrate to his very core, enveloping the fear, bloodlust, and despair surging through his body, making every heartbeat, every nerve, every muscle fiber feel as though it would explode under the pressure.
[Fear Debuff is stacking]
[Your attributes will be reduced by 40% until this effect disappears.]
Ren nearly gagged, feeling as if all his strength had been violently ripped from his body. Every muscle, every joint felt squeezed from the inside.
Only a few minutes into the fight, and he felt like his body was being disassembled, every nerve strained to the point of tearing. The creature's putrid, icy blood seemed to seep through the Onyx armor, his heart jolting in a chaotic rhythm, every breath becoming heavy and broken, as if an invisible pressure was crushing his chest.
He dared not use his special skills in this condition; one premature burst of strength would cause his entire body to collapse before reaching his objective.
Every movement had to be calculated, conserving every ounce of strength, clinging to the fragile life amidst the chaos created by the monster and the Banshee scream.
A sense of desperation flooded him, as if Ren himself were standing on the edge of a cliff, where one small mistake was enough to make him fall, shatter, with nothing left to hold onto.
Only after drinking another recovery potion was Ren able to stand up again. His ankles were rigid. His breathing mingled with the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
In front of him, the monster was writhing on the floor, and new arms had already sprouted from its body, growing haphazardly, without any rule or shape, as if flesh and bone were being violently forced to erupt from within.
Some arms even grew backward toward its back, twisted as if being extruded from a bursting sack of meat. But the worst thing was that it had managed to pull the sword out of its head.
Ren frowned from the pain that shot up to his eye sockets. That was a bad sign. Not exactly. Because at the same moment, he noticed something else.
The monster's HP bar was still full, showing no decrease. Every HP segment remained intact, seemingly untouched by any strikes, but Ren's gaze swept along the HP bar, paying closer attention to its length.
It had shrunk to less than one-third of its length when the battle began, a clear sign that his attacks were still effective, but not directly.
This meant Ren could not deal direct damage to it. He could not remove any HP by slashing.
But every time it regenerates a body part... every time its flesh and bone burst forth and reassembled... it has to pay the price with its own maximum health.
Ren took a deep breath, each one heavy, but his eyes lit up, a wave of determination surging through his exhaustion and the dull ache throughout his body.
It is self-immolating its vitality to survive.
Therefore, Ren only needed to keep cutting off all its parts. Cut until it had nothing left to grow back. Cut until the monster burned away its last reserves of life.
But then... a dark thought suddenly flashed through Ren's mind. It wasn't immediately clear, just a faint speck of light, but enough to send a chill down his spine.
So... how will it replenish its lost vitality?
That thought slid through Ren's brain like a bucket of icy water splashed straight over his head, making his entire body tingle. The answer was too obvious... and too disgusting.
Eating. It eats living beings. It absorbs nutrients from what it swallows... then converts them into new flesh and blood, into arms and parts to replace what was lost.
That's why they needed... NPCs to perform the ritual. The children tied up there... they weren't the main targets. They were just a backup plan. A reserve food source to sustain the ritual... or for "it" to regenerate its body if there were mistakes.
Or perhaps not... maybe everything was much simpler. Just a few unlucky kids... who coincidentally returned to find an abducted NPC to complete a daily quest... right when Varn and his cronies were carrying out the kidnapping.
A small mistake. A misplaced step. And then everything spiraled... one mistake after another.
From that, everything that followed happened... like a broken thread that cannot be reconnected.
The grotesque monster also seemed to be starting to fear. It no longer lunged at Ren as aggressively as before, no longer wildly flailing its arms. Instead, its movements were cautious, as if probing, seeking an opportunity.
Ren observed. He realized something. It was aware that its vitality had been burned away too much.
The smell of blood and flesh of the people in this city, a thick but alluring mixture, made it intoxicated but also more cautious.
Why bother lunging at the "thorny crab" in front of it when the "soft crab roe" are waiting nearby?
A brutal but strangely rational instinct made it choose its target, moving step by step out of the warehouse, as if intending to burst through the wall and leap outside.
Ren did not hesitate. With a sharp breath, his body taut as a bowstring, he immediately charged to attack the monster. He would not allow it to carry out its intention. He would not allow it the chance to devour innocent people.
If that happened... if it ate and absorbed this entire city... a creature of unimaginable horror and disgust would be born.
Though it was only a speculation in Ren's mind, that fear was enough to make him forbid it from happening.
Every step, every strike of Ren's sword was now not just about survival, but a mission of protection, the sole barrier against a horrifying catastrophe.