Strength: D– (might far beyond lion or tiger, yet still bottom-tier among Heroic Spirits)
Endurance: D– (a body like a reef in the surf, able to stand firm on the battlefield)
Shane skimmed the updated stats in his mind. He'd actually broken through naturally that morning and spent the whole day adapting; now his power flowed like an extension of his will.
He glanced at the "patrons" around them—skin keratinizing, howling like beasts.
They seemed to have lost all consciousness, pure aggression tightening their ring around him.
"I'll leave this to you." Shane spoke fast. Before Erza could answer, he vaulted up and slid out through the hole he'd blasted in the roof.
"I've got it!" Erza answered on reflex, reaching to her waist with full confidence—and came up empty.
"Wait—where's my sword?" she shouted up toward the hole.
But Shane was already gone, leaving her surrounded by drooling, glaring monstrosities.
"Jerk!" Her shoulders trembled with anger. She carved a big mark against Shane in her heart and swore the first thing she'd do after this was get her own weapon—depending on him was way too unreliable!
The nearest "man" lunged with a snarl. She bit down, swept her gaze, and fixed on a nearby wooden table.
No time to hesitate. With a sharp cry she grabbed a leg and whipped the table, knocking the attacker back a few steps. The table was tougher than expected, giving only a dull thud.
Erza's eyes lit. She gripped the leg tight, hoisted the table high, and set herself in a bold, one-handed guandao stance.
A table for a weapon—battle lines drawn.
Meanwhile, on the roof, Shane steadied, eyes knifing outward.
The sight sank his heart: beyond the tavern, streets and buildings were gone—replaced by endless black void.
Only the tavern itself remained like an island, warm lamplight flickering within.
"Arash's eyes are best for what's there—not much use on illusions or barriers…"
He sighed and loosed three arrows.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The string sang; three streaks leapt in a triangle—but didn't vanish into the dark. They struck an unseen wall with dull thuds and brief sparks.
Almost as they hit, the howling below spiked—more frenzied, more pained—and the whole tavern trembled.
"What did you do, Shane!" Erza's voice rose from below, frayed at the edges.
She heaved the heavy table to smash another mutant back; the wood finally gave with a crack.
She flipped the broken leg and wielded it like a short staff. "They suddenly got wilder!"
"Hm? Erza can't even handle regular folks turned fodder?" From the roof, Shane pinched his earlobe, puzzled—clean forgetting that switching to Archer had dispelled the weapons he'd conjured for her.
"Honestly—one bandit raid and you're slacking? A little lazy, Erza," he muttered to himself, even as his hands never stopped.
The bow thrummed; mana arrows kept hammering the same spot on the "invisible wall." He'd confirmed this darkness wasn't void, but some kind of solid barrier.
"If something's in the way, breaking it is never wrong."
He nodded, feeling power flood his limbs and the full response of the string. The catharsis of pouring it on was a first—he almost felt that, all-out, his shots could shave a mountaintop clean.
Shame the "projects" he'd brought were on Noel's wagon—no chance to use them.
With physical arrows and the crimson bow, he could've kicked the blast up a tier.
Below, the mutants raved harder with every volley; the tavern shook, wood groaning in pain.
But aside from tremors and screams, the barrier showed no other change.
He frowned. "Still intact? Not enough firepower?"
That he hadn't expected.
Releasing Arash was his strongest card. If brute force wouldn't rip this open… then the only other brute fix was the Phantasm—
Arash's legend: the Star Arrow spanning 2,500 kilometers.
The price of that ultimate shot was the archer's body itself shattering—godlike archery no mortal flesh could bear.
So even after mastering Arash's True Name, he'd never tried it.
"Fine. Focus and try again." He drew in breath, ready to pull to full moon for a few more tests—if that failed, he'd wait for the only talkative server to return.
Right then—
KRA—THOOM!!!!!
A roar, deeper and heavier than anything before—as if something had been crushed by force—burst from beyond the barrier.
Shane's pupils snapped tight; his head shot up.
And there, where his arrows had pounded fruitlessly—
Cracks webbed out in an instant, a spidering lattice across the surface like fragile glass.
Crack… craaack—shatter—!
With a clear break, the darkness that made the barrier fell apart, peeling into drifting black motes.
Gentle, clear moonlight poured in like water through the hole, lighting the sealed space.
A figure stepped through the beam and the falling black dust, unhurried.
Shane's guard spiked. Without thinking, he drew to full—an arrowhead bright with dangerous mana leveled at the newcomer, ready to fly.
The man ignored the aim—casually dropped what he was carrying.
Shane's stomach tightened. It was the server from before—now in rags, all poise gone, out cold like a sack of mud.
The newcomer scrubbed a hand through his unruly orange-red hair, yawned long with a drunken hangover in his eyes, then squinted up at Shane on the roof, bristling and drawn.
"Hey, kid—mind not pointing a dangerous magic toy at onii-san here?"
~~~
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