The red and black Minotaur had vanished into the darkness of the upper corridors, a postponed threat, but not forgotten. Hachiman, however, couldn't afford to think about it now. His entire existence was focused on the creature dominating the corridor before him: the irregular Wyvern. It was larger than he expected, perhaps the size of a small horse, but with a wingspan that seemed to fill the confined space of the twelfth floor. Its scales were a deep black, not reflecting, but absorbing the ghostly light of the ambient mist, except for the green lines that pulsed with a sickly energy, almost like veins filled with luminous poison. Its eyes were reptilian slits of an equally vibrant green, fixed on him with a cold intelligence and predatory malice that set it apart from common monsters. The air around it seemed to vibrate with contained power.
'Definitely irregular. And strong,' analyzed Hachiman, feeling a pressure far exceeding that of the Infant Dragon from the previous day. If the Dragon was Level 2, this Wyvern seemed to be at the upper limit of that classification, perhaps even touching the power of a Level 3 in certain aspects due to its abnormal nature. 'I can't hesitate. I have to attack first, with force.'
Before the Wyvern could complete its challenging screech, Hachiman acted. "Trace On!" Channeling his vast Rank SSS mana reserve, he didn't project his twin blades yet, but focused on the unstable creation of the Thunder Blade. Energy crackled in his hand, the sword's form almost vibrating out of control before he launched it like a bluish bolt towards the Wyvern as it began to dive.
The ephemeral blade struck the creature's chest mid-air. There was a blinding flash and the sharp sound of thunder cracking in the enclosed corridor. The electrical discharge coursed through the black scales, causing the Wyvern to let out a sharp screech of genuine pain and spasms to run through its muscles. Small burn marks appeared where the energy had concentrated. The attack destabilized it, forcing it to land abruptly on the stone floor a few meters from him, wings beating unevenly.
'It worked... but the damage wasn't as deep as I expected,' Hachiman noted, already projecting Kanshou and Bakuya into his hands as he assessed the effect. 'It's tough. And now it's furious.'
And it was. The pain seemed only to fuel the Wyvern's rage. Ignoring the residual spasms, it lowered its head, the green lines glowing more intensely, and let out a roar that was part reptilian hiss, part muffled thunder. With explosive speed, it shot across the floor, powerful claws tearing at the stone, its tail whipping behind it like a deadly scourge.
Hachiman met the charge. The shock of the encounter was like two forces of nature colliding. Kanshou and Bakuya met the Wyvern's front claws. Sparks flew profusely, the sound of metallic impact echoing down the corridor. This time, with his Rank S Strength and Endurance, Hachiman didn't give ground easily. He felt the monster's brute force, a strength that would have crushed his previous E/F Ranks, but now he could sustain the block, muscles tense, feet firmly planted on the ground.
The Wyvern recoiled for an instant, perhaps surprised by the unexpected resistance, before attacking again with renewed fury. A deadly, chaotic dance began. The creature was a storm of claws, fangs, and tail strikes. Its speed was incredible, using not only its legs but also short bursts from its wings to change direction abruptly, attacking from unpredictable angles. Hachiman responded in kind. His Rank S Agility allowed him to keep pace with the Wyvern's movements, turning him into a bluish-black blur flowing and ebbing against the black and green storm. Kanshou and Bakuya moved like extensions of his will, parrying claws that could rip steel, deflecting bites that could crush bone, and seeking openings in the scaly defense.
His blows were powerful. Each successful cut from the twin blades, reinforced by his SSS Magic, left grooves in the black scales and drew pained screeches from the Wyvern. He saw dark blood begin to flow from multiple wounds, but the creature's vitality was astounding; it continued fighting with the same ferocity.
The Wyvern's attacks, however, also took their toll. Several times, Hachiman was forced to rely purely on Aspháleia – his growth armor – to survive. A particularly vicious claw strike that he couldn't completely dodge hit his chestplate with the force of a forge hammer. The armor's blue aura flared brightly, absorbing the impact, but he still felt the blow reverberate painfully through his already injured ribs. A lash from the tail grazed his leg, and only the special metal greave prevented his bone from being broken. 'Thanks, Hephaestus-sama,' he thought acidly amidst the fight, 'this thing is worth every one of those 200 million Valis.'
The fight became a brutal battle of attrition. Both combatants were injured, both expending energy at a furious rate. The corridor was scarred by claw marks, stained with dark blood, and smelled of residual ozone from the Thunder Blade mixed with the Wyvern's reptilian odor. Hachiman breathed heavily, sweat dripping down his face, mana constantly drained to reinforce his blades and keep his senses sharp via 'A Loner's Protection'. The Wyvern also showed signs of fatigue, its movements perhaps slightly less explosive, but its fury seemed unabated.
It was during a brief tactical pause, as they circled each other looking for an opening, that the Wyvern revealed another weapon. It puffed out its chest, the green lines on its throat glowing intensely. Hachiman recognized the pattern too late.
"Fire!" he cursed, instinctively trying to throw himself back while simultaneously projecting a defense. "Trace On! Trace On!" Two Thunder Blades appeared, not as an attack, but as a desperate attempt to create an electrical barrier in front of him.
A guttural roar preceded the inferno. A cone of black and green flames erupted from the Wyvern's mouth, filling the corridor with suffocating heat. The Thunder Blades exploded on contact, a detonation of blue and green-black energy that perhaps absorbed or deflected part of the attack, but not all of it. The edge of the fiery blast hit him squarely.
Pain. Pure and excruciating. He felt the left side of his body burn, the Aspháleia armor glowing desperately under the assault, but the heat penetrated nonetheless. The impact of the secondary explosion threw him against the corridor wall with crushing force. He collapsed to the floor, air driven from his lungs, vision blurred. He smelled his own clothes burning and tasted blood and ash in his mouth. His ribs felt like they had shattered into a thousand pieces this time.
The Wyvern gave him no quarter. With a triumphant screech, seeing its prey down and vulnerable, it advanced. Claws and fangs sought to finish the job. Hachiman rolled instinctively, pain a white noise in his mind. Kanshou and Bakuya rose in desperate, weak blocks. Claws scraped against his armor, drawing sparks. A bite was narrowly deflected. He was gravely injured, mana dangerously low, exhaustion pulling him towards unconsciousness.
He managed to get to his knees, then staggeringly to his feet, leaning on his twin blades. The left side of his body was burned, bleeding. Breathing was torture. The Wyvern circled slowly now, savoring the imminent victory. Its green eyes shone with cruel triumph.
'Is this the end?' a part of Hachiman's mind whispered. 'Even with Rank S... even with Rank SSS... even with the armor... it's still not enough against something like this?' The prospect of death, cold and final, loomed over him again.
But something else arose from the depths of his being. It wasn't hope. It wasn't strategy. It was pure, simple refusal. A cold fury against the creature before him, against the goddess who had sent it, against the very fragility of his existence. He had fought too hard, bled too much, sacrificed too much of his former identity to die here, like a crushed insect. NO!
The word wasn't spoken, but it reverberated in his soul. The feeling of fury began to burn, hotter than the Wyvern's flames. Not an explosive rage, but a cold, focused intensity, a determination that transcended pain and fear. He forgot the broken ribs, the burned skin, the low mana. His mind focused on a single purpose: destroy the threat. And with that fury, came a change. Calculated analysis gave way to a sharper, more lethal instinct. A savagery began to show in his eyes, a promise of final retribution that made the green lines on the Wyvern flicker with sudden uncertainty. Even wounded, even dying, Hikigaya Hachiman would not fall without taking his enemy with him. The battle entered its final, most desperate phase.