Merin sighs in relief, shoulders sagging as he begins channelling his true energy to heal his broken arms.
But before he can even start, a sound reaches his ears—
—the creaking of bone.
The sound freezes him.
Everyone hears it.
Familiar. Dreadful.
Like the groan of a nightmare waking up.
Merin's eyes snap to the armoured bone monster lying motionless on its back.
His voice escapes him in a whisper, "Why hasn't it disappeared?"
All around, others begin to notice.
Every bone monster they've killed—white or grey—disappeared without a trace, sometimes leaving behind a single bone.
But this one remains.
Unmoving. Unfading.
Still here.
Jane steps forward cautiously. "Is it… different because of the armour?"
No one answers.
Before anyone can speak again—
The werewolf moves.
With a snarl, it leaps onto the armoured monster's chest.
Claws swing down with force.
A red arc of energy flashes as the werewolf slashes at the monster's skull.
The blow lands—
—but not a scratch.
The grey skull doesn't even crack.
Undeterred, the werewolf attacks again—
and again—
And again.
The flurry of blood-red strikes rains down, relentless.
But nothing works.
No dent. No fracture. No wound.
Minutes pass like seconds, every heartbeat taut with tension.
And then—
—as the werewolf raises its claws for another strike,
Merin sees it.
A flicker.
Deep in the hollow eye sockets of the armoured skull, a wisp of purple flame flickers to life.
Before Merin can shout a warning, twin beams of purple energy blast from its eyes—
—and slam into the werewolf's chest.
The beast is lifted off the ground, hurled through the air like a ragdoll, crashing against the barren earth with a bone-jarring thud.
The armoured monster's bones begin to glow—each one tracing with vibrant purple light.
Then, slowly, its massive frame floats upward, suspended horizontally for a moment—
—before rotating upright in the air.
Merin's gaze locks on the gaping hole in its chest,
And what he sees makes his breath catch.
The monster's missing spine has been replaced by a glowing pillar of pure purple energy,
threading itself through the ribcage like a living furnace.
Then—
It vanishes.
Gone.
An instant later, every warning instinct in Merin's body screams.
He crosses his arms on reflex—
—and something slams into him.
Pain explodes in his arms as they break all over again.
His body sails through the air
and crashes onto the barren land.
He groans, eyes swimming, bones aching.
But he knows he can't stay down.
Not now.
He grits his teeth and kicks himself up with his legs, vision spinning—
—and sees the werewolf already back in the fray, locked in a desperate clash with the armoured monster.
Jane and Black rise too, staggering.
Jane's arm hangs useless at her side, broken.
Black's mouth is a mess of blood and shattered teeth, his bow splintered in two—
—but they still stand.
Still fight.
Merin looks down at his arms, limp and useless.
He's lost ninety per cent of his combat power.
A voice near him trembles.
"What should we do?" the woman asks, eyes fixed on the brutal battle between the werewolf and the glowing bone monster.
Merin has no answer.
Jane, still breathing heavily, turns to Evelyn.
"Who is the wolf-like monster?" she asks. "You called him your brother."
Evelyn nods.
"He is. That's my older brother, Evander."
Merin's eyes widen.
He's seen Evander before, just a week ago, when the man came to pick Evelyn up from his cottage.
He looked perfectly normal then—calm, noble, composed.
But this?
A towering, clawed beast radiating power and fury?
How?
Is he a werewolf?
Is Evelyn's entire family one?
The questions spiral.
And if werewolves exist…
Are there vampires? Orcs? Giants? Elves?
His thoughts spin faster.
This world—he'd already begun to suspect it was magical.
Those grey bone monsters conjured weapons out of thin air.
Was that magic? Or something else?
Was it just talent, like martial techniques?
But he wants it to be magic.
He imagines himself in flowing robes, standing at the peak of a tower—
hurling fireballs, bending the elements, splitting mountains.
Back on Earth, in moments of boredom, he used to dream about this.
About being reincarnated in a magical world—
not just as a martial artist,
but as a mage.
He remembers a phrase he used to whisper to himself late at night:
"With my knowledge, I pry the fulcrum of the world."
In those daydreams, he would stand tall atop his mage tower,
His students gathered below, gazing up at him in awe—
As he spoke those words and shattered the sky with a gesture,
Rewriting the laws of reality itself.
His heart beats faster.
Could that fantasy… still be real?
Maybe. But right now, Merin's reality is something else.
He's a martial artist. That's the path he walks.
It's not a bad one—
But still, in the back of his mind, he yearns for more.
Something arcane.
Something like magic.
His thoughts are interrupted when Black speaks.
"So you know where we are?"
Evelyn nods.
"We're in a realm battlefield. We can't leave until we find the portal—
and it could be anywhere."
Merin's heart sinks.
He'd hoped there was some easy way out.
But now…
The questions pile up in his mind.
What is the realm battlefield? Why are they here? How does it choose its victims?
Before he—or anyone—can ask more, Evelyn continues,
"But first, we need to kill that monster.
Knowing more won't help if we're dead."
She's right.
Merin clenches his fists—both still throbbing, still broken.
If they don't survive this, the rest doesn't matter.
"I'll go first," Black says, stepping forward. "You two join when you've healed."
Jane nods. "Be careful."
Merin nods too, watching as Black sprints to join the werewolf—Evander—against the armoured monster.
Even from this distance, Merin can see it—
The werewolf is wounded. Slower than before.
Still holding the line, still dealing the heaviest blows…
But he's losing ground.
Merin forces his energy through the fractures in his arms, gritting his teeth.
The pain is sharp, relentless—
But he pushes on.
Then Jane speaks.
"Can you give me one of the pieces?"
He glances at her, confused—
until his eyes fall on the black bag beside them.
Stuffed with bones left behind by the grey monsters—
the treasure bones, the ones that leave behind the silver light.
Energy. Recovery. Strength.
Jane is asking for one.
Evelyn follows her gaze and gestures at the bones.
"These?" she asks.
Jane nods.
Evelyn picks one up, turning it in her hand.
"My brother collected them. I don't know exactly what they do."
Jane answers, "They help me recover true energy—and speed up healing."
Without another word, Evelyn hands the bone to her.
Before Merin can speak, Evelyn turns to him.
"Adam, do you want one too?"
He nods. "Yes."
She picks up another bone and holds it out.
Merin grits his teeth, guides his true energy like an invisible hand, and forces his damaged arm to move.
Pain flares white in his vision as he takes the bone.
He crushes it with a pulse of energy—
A silver orb of light rises from the shattered remains.
He absorbs it immediately.
Warmth floods his body. His energy recovers fast—too fast to believe.
And not just recovery—
His reserves grow, thicker and denser.
He channels the revitalised energy into his right arm.
That arm comes first. It's his dominant hand—
Restoring it means regaining at least seventy per cent of his strength.
He senses three clean fractures.
His true energy seeps into the bones of his right arm, focusing on the breaks—
And at each fractured point, bone cells stretch, extend, and reconnect.
Where bone is missing, it regrows—new cells forming rapidly under the guidance of his energy.
Within minutes, the damage is fully repaired—
But nearly all his true energy is consumed in the process.
Fast-paced healing, while effective, comes at a steep cost.
He glances at Jane, who is now absorbing another silver orb from a shattered treasure bone.
His eyes shift to the remaining bones, and Evelyn, noticing, hands him another one without a word.
He takes it, heals his left arm next, then uses one more bone to refill his energy reserves.
A deep breath steadies him.
He lifts his gaze—
Evander, Black, and Jane are still locked in battle with the armoured bone monster, all three bearing new injuries.
Jane had only returned to the fight ten minutes ago—already, her condition is worsening.
No more waiting.
Merin charges toward the battle.
The only high-level technique he possesses is the Ice God Palm—
and though the technique is incomplete, only four moves total—
It's all he has.
He switches his breathing, aligning with the White Light technique,
transforming all his true energy into cold energy.
An icy palm forms over his right hand, glowing faint blue.
It mirrors the motion of his real hand, and with a sharp breath, he lunges, striking at the armoured monster with the Ice God Palm.
He doesn't use the Ice Flame Palm—
not because it's weak, but because it's costly.
Every time he performs it, he risks severe injury—
And it drains his energy far faster than the Ice God technique.
Besides, the armoured monster has yet to show signs of damage—
And the Ice Flame Palm, for all its force, isn't a true martial technique.
It's something he created himself:
A volatile blend of opposing energies.
He forms an ice palm using cold energy,
encasing fire within—
And when the outer shell breaks, the fire bursts violently outward.
It works, but it's brute force—unrefined.
The Ice God Palm, however, is structured—
each move building on the last, changing the internal structure of his energy,
increasing both the coldness and power of his strikes.
The one he just used is the first move—
The only one he has fully mastered after a single day of study.
He's only begun learning the second, but even now,
as he fights and pushes his limits, he feels his control over it sharpening.
And with every blow he lands,
He sees something change in the monster—
The purple glow within its bones flickers.
It's weakening.
Jane notices it too.
She shouts through heavy breaths, "It's running out of energy! Hold on—victory will be ours!"
Merin nods grimly.
He knows she's right—
But so is the opposite truth.
The monster isn't the only one running out of time.
Their own injuries are piling up,
and their true energy is draining fast.
It's a race, and whoever endures longest will decide the outcome.
Merin exhales, pain tightening his jaw—
But his eyes burn with resolve.
He can't hesitate now.
This is the only move he has left that might make a difference.
He doesn't know what lies beneath the monster's skeletal frame—
If there's a core or anything vital at all—
But he refuses to gamble on that unknown.
Instead, he chooses raw force.
He inhales and shifts his breathing—
from white to blue.
The temperature inside him spikes as his true energy transitions from cold to fire.
Conflict erupts.
The two forces clash violently within him,
and agony bursts through every vein—
But he doesn't stop.
He channels the chaos—
harnesses the pressure—
And when the balance sits on the edge of collapse,
He unleashes it.
Ice Flame Palm—
But this time, not with the first move of the Ice God technique.
He fuses it with the second.
The molten core at the heart of the ice palm swells—
twice as much fire, twice as unstable—
surging with power as he strikes the monster's back.
His aim is just off—he misses the exposed hole—
But not by far.
The strike lands close enough to shake the structure that replaced the monster's spine.
A heartbeat later, the explosion erupts.
All four leap back as fire and ice rip through the air—
And when the dust clears,
Only a glowing ribcage lies in the crater.
Silence.
Then—
"Another incoming!" someone shouts.
Merin's eyes snap up.
From the haze, another armoured monster walks toward them—
Its presence is heavy, its steps like falling stone.
Jane's voice breaks through the dread.
"Black, fire the anti-tank gun!"
Black turns to retrieve the weapon—
But before he can even reach for it,
A black shadow streaks past Merin's vision.
It slams into the approaching monster.
A thunderous boom echoes through the field.