CHAPTER 54: A MANLY STRUGGLE

’Tsk’

Time slowed down for Arthur. Without panicking, he quickly turned around and stared at the mouth of the wolf pouncing toward him. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t have time to reach for his sword or hidden daggers. Nevertheless, he reacted instantly, without hesitation, and punched the wolf with his bare hand.

A hand of flesh and blood against a gaping maw full of fangs, his reckless move seemed like madness. Even Novarian, who was observing the situation from a different angle, confirmed how insane the strike was and considered it an act of desperation.

’It’s useless.’

The thought crossed his mind swiftly, but what he witnessed next made his eyes widen in shock. As Arthur’s fist neared the ferocious wolf’s mouth, he suddenly altered the direction of the strike, opened his hand, and—strangely—shoved his fingers into the wolf’s nose.

It was so unexpected and bizarre that the wolf itself let out a strange sound and stared at the human before it with frightened eyes, as if looking at some kind of pervert. But Arthur didn’t care. With a cold expression, he pressed hard on the wolf’s nose with tremendous force, causing it to collapse to the ground and yelp like an injured dog. The nose was a highly sensitive organ for many animals, making it an easy weak point to exploit.

Although the attack seemed to take a long time, it had, in reality, lasted only a few fractions of a second. Without stopping, Arthur resumed running. Several beasts were behind him, and even that brief moment he used to get the wolf off him was enough for some of them to catch up. But this time, he acted preemptively. He drew his sword and, in one swift and forceful motion, slashed with such smoothness that he preserved his momentum.

His wild swing struck a monkey running alongside him. Though it wasn’t a lethal blow, it was enough to make the creature stop and scream in fury.

And so Arthur continued his struggle, fighting the beasts, defending himself by any means necessary. He kicked with his feet, punched with his fists, headbutted, slashed with his sword. Within a single minute, he had injured ten beasts, with varying degrees of damage, some ceased their pursuit, others slowed. Throughout the fight, he didn’t use the magical artifact and relied on only three skills: Logical Analysis, which kept his thoughts clear enough to prioritize threats; Swordsmanship, and Photographic Memory, which allowed him to recall crucial information at just the right moments.

Amid his epic escape, he stole a quick glance at Novarian, who was tailing him, watching in astonishment. Internally, he thought:

’Good. I’ve got his full attention.’

But then, he silently wept:

’But you bastard... how long are you going to keep watching? Move and save me—dammit, I’m exhausted.’

Having sprinted at full speed for so long, he was severely fatigued. His strength waned, and his steps started to stumble slightly.

Grrr!

A small wolf leaped at him, attempting to bite. Arthur quickly turned and changed direction, but due to his exhaustion, he stumbled.

"Damn!" he cursed aloud, quickly regaining balance and dodging the wolf. But his hasty movement made him neglect his surroundings for a moment, and without realizing it, another wolf attacked and bit his leg.

A sudden, excruciating pain made him open his mouth, but he suppressed his scream at the last moment. He clenched his fist as the veins on his forehead bulged with fury and pain. He wanted to use the magical artifact but kept his composure. A cold expression overtook his face as he swiftly swung his sword with maximum force, decapitating the wolf.

In a cruel twist, the head that had bitten him remained attached to his leg. He ran with it for a few meters before it finally fell off.

...

"This man?!... How is he doing this? He’s only Level E!" Novarian couldn’t hide his shock. In his entire life, he’d never seen anything like it. Fighting to survive was normal, but facing this many beasts while maintaining calm, composure, and a noble bearing? That was far from ordinary.

"Amazing," was the only word he could use to describe what he saw.

For some inexplicable reason, he recalled a scene from his past—the battle between the man who once saved him and a powerful Rank B beast. The levels of those battles differed, but the impression they left was the same.

Realizing he had been watching for too long, he frowned and scolded himself:

"What am I doing? I need to help him. He won’t last much longer."

He quickly ran toward the beasts, but then suddenly froze again when he saw Arthur decapitate the wolf, and flee with the head.

It was such an absurd sight that he chuckled faintly. But he didn’t remain still for long. Swiftly, he cast the spell Exploding Fireballs. Dozens of small fireballs materialized around him and surged forward like missiles.

The fireballs rained down among the beasts, exploding with intense flames that incinerated everything in their range. Screams and groans filled the air. Dirt exploded upward, and several trees were destroyed. Exploding Fireballs was a wide-area bombardment spell, not known for precision.

Even Arthur, who was slightly outside the blast radius, felt heat on his back and was struck by a few random shards.

’Damn you, idiot! Use a better spell than that!’ Arthur cursed internally with frustration. He knew all the skills Novarian possessed, and Exploding Fireballs was the worst possible choice for this situation.

But Novarian didn’t care. His first assault was so powerful it killed seven beasts and injured ten others. The remaining beasts were so terrified they stumbled and faltered.

Seizing the brief moment of stillness, Novarian reached the beast pack. Like a wolf in a henhouse, he began cutting down everything in his path. He swung his sword with overwhelming force, empowering the strike with the spell Wind Blade, which sent a human-sized gust slicing forward, cleaving through four beasts in its path. It even passed beside Arthur, who was still fleeing, and split a tree in half.

Arthur stared at the split tree with a pale face and slowly turned to look at the hero who was supposed to save him, cursing:

’This fool’s going to kill me before the monsters do.’

’That’s enough.’

Thanks to Novarian’s intervention, no more beasts were chasing him. Arthur stopped calmly and turned to watch the hero effortlessly slaughtering monsters. With each sword swing, he felled a beast. From time to time, he released a simple spell like Fireball or Wind Blade to finish off escaping monsters. He spared none—strong or weak, large or small—he slaughtered them all.

Amid the chaos, Arthur watched it all with indifference. Unlike what other creatures perceived, he saw something no one would believe, thanks to his skill Plot Savant. From every dead beast emerged a mysterious blue aura, saturated with mana and life force. It flowed toward Novarian, whose body absorbed the energy and converted it into personal power. Or more precisely, there was a nearly transparent ring on him, dotted with glowing orbs like stars in the night sky. That ring was what absorbed the aura and transferred it into Novarian’s body.

This was his secret, one known to no one... except Arthur.