"I… see my shortcomings," Colm panted, his words trailing off as he narrowly weaved past a swipe from the Wyrm's massive claws.

I have a weapon, but it's useless without mana. He kept his gaze locked on the towering beast in front of him, forcing himself to focus.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Robin still firing relentlessly, spectral arrows striking true as the phantom gracefully dodged back and forth, evading the Frost Wyrm's attacks.

This is just a battle of attrition now. Colm's eyes narrowed as another massive claw swept inches from his face. Can it keep up this assault while bleeding out? Or will I be the first to slip up and get caught in one of its strikes?

He panted, feeling the strain creeping in.

I could keep dodging and wait to summon another phantom… or I could take out one of the spears now. But one misstep, and that's it for me.

He took another quick step back, mind racing. I have the advantage. All I need to do is keep my distance, keep dodging—I can take my time. But it… it needs to finish me off now. Otherwise, it's dead.

After a particularly ferocious salvo, Colm found himself jumping back, putting distance between him and the creature as it reeled from its own exertion.

He watched as the Wyrm paused, its eyes scanning its surroundings—a flicker of awareness crossing its frost-laden features. It had finally realized the situation it was in.

Then it roared.

The sound was loud, desperate, filled with fury and frustration. Almost instantly, Colm felt the temperature drop.

"So predictable," he muttered, watching frost rapidly creep across the battlefield. "You're going to freeze the ground around you, hoping to catch me off guard."

The memory of Lance's legs freezing over and snapping like brittle twigs flashed through his mind.

Not this time.

As the frost expanded outward, Colm twisted sharply, retreating before it could reach him. The Wyrm bellowed in frustration, struggling to close the gap.

I can't get too far—Robin needs a clear shot—but I also need to keep my distance.

The Wyrm suddenly dropped low, its body coiling in preparation for a charge.

Colm's eyes widened. Shit, it's moving fast—too fast.

His mind raced. I need to use my surroundings. One chance.

As the creature barreled toward him, he waited until the last possible moment before springing to the side, planting his foot against the cavern wall, and kicking off. His hands latched onto the jagged outcropping of a rock, momentum swinging him behind the creature just as it surged past him.

Blinded by fury, the Wyrm didn't immediately register that it had missed its target. It charged another fifty feet forward before skidding to a halt.

Colm exhaled sharply, finally getting a full view of the creature's back.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of spectral arrows were embedded deep into its hide.

How is it still standing?

Shaking his head he quickly looked at his mana and weighed his options.

Health: 1450 / 1450 Mana: 92 / 720

"It's been about nine minutes of this based on my mana now," Colm muttered, his breath steady despite the strain. Fortunately, the Frost Wyrm hadn't landed a single hit, keeping his health full—but another ten minutes were still needed before he could summon another phantom.

The question is... can I last that long?

There had already been some dangerously close calls, and the ground was slicker than before, making dodging riskier with every second.

His eyes narrowed, resolve hardening. I need to use Abyssal Lance. The question is—where?

Before he could finish the thought, the creature began to turn—slowly, hindered by the cramped space of the ravine.

This is giving me an advantage.

A spectral arrow arched overhead as Robin activated Phantom Volley again, unleashing another barrage of glowing projectiles that rained down upon the beast.

That tells me something about Robin's capabilities. Unlike Carver and Lance, who focused on powerful, devastating strikes, Robin's arrows relied on sheer quantity rather than brute force. The arrows could pierce the Wyrm's hide, but only so deep.

The Frost Wyrm finally finished turning, its dimming eyes locking onto Colm.

I could aim for the eyes... but I might miss. Maybe the chest?

His gaze honed in on the gaping wound Carver had left behind in the phantom's final attack—a massive, bleeding cavity oozing frozen blood.

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Nailed it. That's the spot.

Nodding to himself, he solidified the plan. If I can land three Abyssal Lances there, that might be enough to bring it down.

The Wyrm swayed slightly, exhaustion creeping into its massive frame. It let out a guttural roar, dragging its razor-sharp talons across the frozen stone, the sound grating against Colm's ears.

Then, its eyes bored into him.

A chill ran down Colm's spine.

But then he smiled.

I've missed this.

The thrill of battle, the pure, unfiltered intensity of a fight to the death. His pulse pounded, his teeth clenched, and a shiver that wasn't from the cold ran down his back.

This is what living feels like.

Still grinning, he raised his hand, preparing his next move.

I'll let it charge first, fire a shot, and dodge. It's about fifty feet away—that should give me enough time to cast and evade.

He ran the numbers in his head. Abyssal Lance has just under a 1.5-second cast time. That should work.

As if on cue, the Wyrm bowed its head, preparing to charge.

Now.

Colm activated the spell.

A sharp drain on his mana followed as dark energy coalesced at his fingertips, the spell forming just as the creature lunged forward.

The ground trembled beneath its weight, each step bringing it closer at a terrifying speed.

Sweat dripped down Colm's brow. Almost done...

The spell finished forming just as the Frost Wyrm was upon him.

Colm locked onto his target and fired.

The Abyssal Lance streaked through the air—and in the same breath, he swerved to the side, narrowly avoiding the massive jaws that snapped shut where he had stood just moments before.

Colm kept moving, staying on his toes as he backed up, widening the distance between himself and the Frost Wyrm. His eyes never left the creature.

As the beast followed through on its missed strike, it reached the end of its arc and stumbled.

Must've got it. A small grin crept onto Colm's face.

Then, more arrows rained down—but this time, something different happened.

One streaked through the air, piercing straight into the creature's eye.

"Great shot, Robin," Colm muttered.

The Frost Wyrm let out a howling screech, thrashing in pain as it stumbled with every movement.

It's almost dead. Colm gritted his teeth. Just a little more.

He dug his heels into the ice, putting even more distance between himself and the beast as he raised his hand, preparing another cast.

The creature, now slower than ever, finished turning to face him, its massive frame shuddering with exertion.

Colm's gaze dropped to its chest wound—and his breath hitched.

The gaping wound was oozing more and more icy blue blood, the liquid dripping steadily onto the cavern floor with a methodical thunk before solidifying on impact and shattering into pieces.

Huh. Interesting physics. Even as the idle thought passed through his mind, Colm never took his eyes off the beast.

The Wyrm reeled its head back, letting out another roar, and Colm steadied himself.

Then, it swept its claw back and lowered its head.

It's coming again.

Colm exhaled, activating Abyssal Lance once more.

"One more time." He nodded to himself, watching as the spell coalesced at his fingertips—just as the Frost Wyrm charged forward.

His pulse steadied. This is it.

The spell finished forming.

Colm released it— and then his eyes widened.

Something was wrong.

The Wyrm altered its charge ever so slightly, shifting its trajectory at the last second.

Colm watched as his Abyssal Lance shot forward—only for the Wyrm to throw itself to the side, the attack striking but barely grazing it.

The creature let out a brief snarl of pain—but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough to stop what came next.

Before Colm could react, the Wyrm's massive tail swept upward—and slammed into him with tremendous force.

The impact sent him hurtling backward, his body slamming into the ravine wall with bone-rattling force, embedding him a few feet into the solid rock.

The breath rushed from his lungs.

"Ahh, fuck…" he groaned, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred and refocused.

Gotta move quickly.

He forced himself to move, pulling his body from the crater he'd made in the wall—only to feel Lingering Vitality already activating, patching his wounds at an accelerated rate thanks to the tier upgrades.

"Love that upgrade," he muttered, pushing himself free and dropping back down onto the cold, hard ground.

Colm quickly pushed himself to his feet, his body aching but still moving. His eyes snapped toward the Frost Wyrm, muscles tensed, ready to dodge at a moment's notice. He dropped low, every fiber of his being on edge, prepared for another charge.

But as his gaze landed on the creature, he hesitated.

It hadn't moved.

The Wyrm remained slumped on its side, its massive form rising and falling with each ragged, heaving breath.

Colm exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. "Fucking hell… that was a rough hit."

He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly, then straightened himself up. Slowly, cautiously, he began approaching the beast, though he made sure to keep a safe distance.

"You were a good fight," he murmured, voice steady despite the exhaustion creeping in.

The Wyrm's dim, flickering eye locked onto his, its body too spent to roar, too broken to move. And yet, even as it lay there, it refused to waver.

That unyielding gaze bore into him—not in fear, but in defiance.

Colm clenched his fists.

"But unfortunately… you must die so I can grow."

With that, he reached deep into his remaining mana, pulling at the last fragile strands of his reserves, forcing one final Abyssal Lance into existence.

The Wyrm never looked away.

Even in its final moments, it remained fierce, unrelenting, unwilling to surrender.

A pang of something unfamiliar settled in Colm's chest.

This is the kind of world we're in.

He inhaled sharply.

Everything in this world exists only by standing atop the bodies of those who came before them. Every person, every beast, every predator—each of them survives by feeding on the deaths of others.

And I am no different.

The spell finished forming.

Colm fired.

As the Abyssal Lance tore through the air, Colm closed his eyes, reflecting on everything that had led to this moment. The close calls, the battle for survival, the inevitable growth of the one who emerged victorious.

This is the world we live in now…

He sighed softly, reopening his eyes—only to be met with a flurry of notifications.

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