John wiped the blood off his gladius and sheathed it. He grabbed the arrow in his thigh, gritted his teeth, and yanked it out.

  Blood poured from the wound, fast and heavy. He sank to the ground, breathing hard. Laying the gladius across his lap, he circulated his white mana, sending it to his wounds. He was cut up bad—arm, shoulder, thigh, ribs, side—so he focused, tightening the mana’s flow.

  Unsure what would work best, he experimented. On some wounds, he spread a thin layer of mana, covering them whole. Others, he hit with dense mana, targeting the worst spots first. He watched close, tweaking as he went.

  Focused Energy Circulation has leveled up. The player has gained a new level of mastery over this ability.

  John noticed his mana moved easier now. In fact, all of his abilities seemed to undergo a qualitative improvement after level 3. He was only scratching the surface, but it was enough for now.

  He split his focus, keeping the mana flowing while checking the notifications he had missed.

  Player has defeated … Level 21.

  Player has defeated ... Level 26.

  Player has defeated ... Level 24.

  …

  Player has leveled up!

  Player has leveled up!

  Player has leveled up!

  Player has leveled up!

  He had gained four levels in one go. Knowing the dark elves could return at any moment, John didn’t waste any time. He dumped all 12 points into Focus.

  Reckless? Sure. But he had defeated opponents above his level - so he must be doing something right.

  Almost immediately, he felt his mind sharpen, mana flowing more easily under his control.

  He pushed harder, circulating more mana to his wounds, urging them to close. A faint white glow spread from him, lighting the forest floor.

  As he meditated John began to feel a vibration in the soil beneath him. It grew, turning into a rumble that shook the ground. It drew louder, closer, trees snapping like twigs.

  John’s gut sank—he knew that sound. He scrambled up, thigh screaming, but it was too late. A massive, horned head crashed through the trees, silver scales flashing, jaws gaping wide.

  Umbral Wyrm - Level ??

  Its maw stretched wide, bigger than he’d remembered, a black void rushing at him. John swung his gladius, but the beast was too fast—darkness swallowed him whole.

  The wyrm’s gullet flexed, pulling him down with steady pressure. His gladius pressed into his hip, air thinning in his chest. A sour tang hung heavy—old meat, sharp and stale. He kicked, boots sliding on smooth muscle, but the current dragged him deeper.

  He landed in a wider chamber—stomach or throat, didn’t matter. Flesh walls pulsed, warm and close. John gripped his gladius, mana flickering over his hand, and stabbed up. The blade caught, barely denting the thick muscle. He slashed again, grunting, thigh still leaking blood. No real damage. The wyrm didn’t budge.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  He swung harder, each strike weaker—shoulder burning, ribs sore, lungs tight. No use. He stopped, panting, gladius heavy in his grip. This wasn’t working.

  He sheathed the gladius, mana coiling tight in his grip. He breathed slow, focused, and whipped it free. Light flared—sharp, bright, slicing through the chamber’s darkness.

  Flash Draw

  A low rumble shook the wyrm. It had felt that one. Flesh scorched faintly, but it held. It wasn’t enough.

  The air was thin and heavy with that sour tang. John’s chest heaved, each breath a struggle—lungs begging for more. He felt panic building in his chest, fast and sharp, urging him to thrash around. He pushed it down, jaw tight, forcing his mind still. Fear would be a death sentence here.

  John leaned against the pulsing wall, chest burning like fire. He shut his eyes, mana coiling tight in his core. He pushed it—harder than ever—condensing it sharp and dense, willing it smaller, tighter. He needed more.

  But his mana fought back, hitting a hard limit, like a door slammed shut. It wouldn’t budge. His lungs scraped for air, each gasp weak, black spots clouding his vision. His heart thudded, then faltered—death was closing in.

  A mad look flared in John’s eyes. He wouldn’t die here, not in some snake’s gut. Focus. He’d bet everything on it, hadn’t he? Those points had to mean something.

  He dug deep, marshaling his focus like never before. His mind narrowed, sharp as a blade, pressing down on the mana—every thought, every scrap of will, squeezing it inward.

  His head felt like it was going to burst, but he grit his teeth, shoving against the block - mana straining like a muscle about to snap. His wounds—thigh, ribs, side—screamed, blood seeping, but he tuned them out.

  Something shifted—a crack in the block. Not enough. He pushed again, harder, body trembling, sweat mixing with blood. His breath was gone now, just a faint wheeze. The world dimmed, limbs heavy, but he clawed at the mana, forcing it deeper—past reason, past pain.

  Then—a snap, like bone breaking. The block gave. Mana roared through, condensing further and further.

  A faint bell chimed in the distance, like it was underwater— but John barely noticed.

  His heart had slowed to a crawl, body functions fading to nothing. His body was quitting, but his mind held one purpose: honing his mana, brighter, denser, for the next attack.

  He stayed there, immobile, his hand on the hilt of the gladius. John had no idea how much time had passed. Seconds, minutes, or hours. His body no longer ached. He knew that was a bad sign.

  The wyrm’s rumble had changed—slower, then still. Maybe it had reached its destination. John didn’t care. His grip stayed on the sheathed gladius, mana honing sharper, denser, like a blade begging to cut.

  Finally, he stood, legs trembling. He gripped his gladius, mana screaming in his hand, and drew—faster, harder than ever. Light erupted, not a wall but a lance, carving through dense muscle like paper.

  The wyrm roared, a bone-deep bellow. Muscle and flesh split wide, blood and air rushing past. John clawed through the gash, tumbling onto cold dirt, gladius still in hand. He hit the floor and rolled away, then lay there, desperately gasping for air.

  His vision swam as he regained his breath, his senses returning to him. Looking around, he realised he was in a cavern. John looked over at the wyrm. It was thrashing madly, its muscular sides smashing against the walls of the cavern, shaking the very foundations of it.

  John’s body protested, but he scrambled further back - putting some more distance between himself and the wyrm. Gradually, the creature slithered away - likely gone to nurse its wounds.

  Relieved, John glanced at his latest notifications.

  Focus +1

  Focus +1

  Focus +1

  Constitution +1

  Player has developed a new ability!

  Dual Focus (Rare) (Level 1) - The player can split their concentration into two distinct tasks. This ability also improves their general focusing ability.

  Player’s ability Flash Draw has evolved into Nova Draw!

  Nova Draw (Peak Epic) (Level 1) - A relentless fusion of blade and light, the player channels mana as long as they can maintain focus, honing their cutting force. A lighting-fast draw from the sheath unleashes a devastating, radiant strike. Power grows with channeling time. No limit.