Chương 363: Chapter 349

For a long moment, their weapons stayed locked, metal grinding against metal, their eyes meeting. One danced in delight, the other widened in fear. Then Sam flooded his body with mana and, with a surge of strength, shoved the Blood Army cultist off him. Sadly, the others present in this underground ritual chamber didn't hesitate. They were not new players or noobs. They knew their roles. Two rushed him, one low with a sword, the other overhead with an axe, both stained dark with dried blood.

Sam leaned in and swung in a wide arc, catching both weapons at once and knocking them aside as he stepped forward. In the same motion, he slipped between them just as they landed. Sam lashed out, spinning on his heel, letting the extremely sharp sword bite into their bodies. He tried to push mana into the edge to enhance the cut, but the moment it left his body, it vanished, drawn greedily into the trunk in the center of the basement.

Finishing the spin, he kicked the one on the left, sending them tumbling, then raised his sword just in time to block another attacker. Steel met steel. The newcomer grimaced, straining against him. Sam smiled, though it was hidden behind his mask and goggles, and stepped forward. The player stumbled, and Sam used the opening to duck under an incoming axe while deflecting the sword.

"Just deal with him!" some yelled from the back, frustration evident in their voice.

"There are ten of us and only one of him! I don't care if he is Solar, kill him!" Sam rolled forward, coming up on the other side of the person and kicked him in the ass, sending him falling forward right into the teammate's blade.

"Watch where you are sticking that thing!" The brief confusion gave him a moment to think. It only took him a fraction of a moment to realize something. That meant anything but blood magic was blocked. His grin widened. They relied on it too much. While blood magic was undoubtedly a powerful form of magic, the fact that they relied on it heavily meant most of their non-blood-related skills had atrophied.

He pumped more mana into his legs and lunged, cleaving the axe wielder in two before slipping aside as multiple weapons carved through the space he had just occupied.

"Use your skills, morons!" the leader barked. The players grinned – ugly and menacing – and raised their weapons as one, slicing open their palms and letting blood spill. It didn't fall. It hovered for a moment before surging upward and coating their weapons. Rusted red became fresh, gleaming crimson, the blades growing in size and radiating dread. Sam was already moving. Even before the command fully left the leader's mouth, he leapt over the ritual circle, not willing to risk it, and dashed for the wall.

His mana sense might not have worked, but he still remembered the locations. His sword screeched as it bit into stone.

"No!" the leader shouted.

"Stop him!" His theory confirmed, Sam rolled away. Just in time to dodge several arrows made of dense – almost black – blood while raising his sword to parry another strike. The next minute was chaos, a constant exchange of steel, blood, and motion. The players who created his trap did their best to kill him. But the difference between them was obvious. His Perfect Mana Core gave him precise control over every fraction of energy. Even without void magic, he was running circles around them.

It was clear that most of them put most of their points into MAG and WIS, increasing their mana capacity and magical power. Technically, they each had more MAG and WIS than him. It didn't really help. With his foresight – making sure he put points into all abilities equally – he could use his physical abilities to protect himself. Plus, in the cramped space, their numbers worked against them. They couldn't fully unleash their abilities without risking their teammates, whether because of time or positioning.

Not that their leader cared. At first, he only shouted orders. Then he snapped. He drew a wicked spear, coated it in blood, and charged.

"Imbeciles!" he roared, unleashing a storm of thrusts. Blood split from the spear mid-strike, forming jagged projectiles that shot toward Sam. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Sam said nothing. He parried, then struck like a snake, driving his dagger into an attacker's stomach.

"Ugh…what the–" The player stopped moving, but Sam acted before he could collapse.

'I knew this dagger was going to come in handy…' Sam thought as he wrenched the dagger away, using it to maneuver the body between him and the approaching barrage of spear strikes. The spear struck the corpse, and the blood tore free from it, flowing into the weapon and strengthening it further.

"Fucker!" Sam didn't reply. He just pulled the dagger away, spun it, and flipped it into a reverse grip. Three bodies lay at his feet now, their blood slowly creeping toward the pool beneath the trunk, nourishing the roots even further. Not letting him breathe, another attacker rushed him. Sam angled his blade, caught a mace on the flat, and let the impact launch him backward into the wall.

"Yes!" the blood mage celebrated as the others rushed in. Sam didn't pause. He just went with the motion. The moment his back hit the hard wall, he acted. Raising his hand holding the dagger, he drove it into the wall, carving another anchor point away. This time, he felt it immediately. The first, and most visible, was the lead enemy cursing at him as his spear glowed even stronger – evidence of him channeling more mana or blood into it. The second was that he could feel the suction force on his mana weaken.

He let out a quiet breath, feeling the strain lessen, allowing him to focus less on keeping his mana inside and more on using it.

"Stop him before he can destroy the other anchor points!" someone yelled.

"Dude! Why did you tell him that?"

"Sorry, boss!" Sam planted his feet against the wall, waiting just for the last moment to launch himself forward. He flew through the tight space between the two enemies striking at him. As he flew between the two of them, both his sword and dagger flashed out, each strike precise, drawing blood as he passed. He didn't slow, driving forward with mana-enhanced legs toward the next point. So far, he had destroyed two of them. This runic circle had nine in total.

One in the center, likely beneath the grotesque plant, and eight along the walls, evenly spaced to form an octagon. A basic design, with no redundancies and no protection against disruption. Sloppy. They had probably been given a standard ritual array meant for controlled conditions, not combat. Either they hadn't asked for anything better, or their rune master hadn't cared enough to provide it. Sam would have never used something this fragile for a trap. Too obvious. Too easy to break.

He twisted past another swing, ducked under a second, and parried a third, his movements flowing together as he closed the distance. Blood projectiles cut through the air around him, forcing him to shift his path, but they came too late. He reached the next anchor and slashed. The stone split. Using his momentary pause, the enemy leader shouted.

"Restrain him, you idiots!"

"Right!"

"On it!" The blood pooled on the ground surged upward, forming chains that lashed toward Sam. He felt the siphoning effect weaken again. Sam smiled. It still wasn't enough for large-scale casting, but it was enough for what he had planned. His sword carved forward in a sharp X, void mana flickering along the edge in thin, unstable flakes. The blades met the chains and sliced through them cleanly, the constructs unraveling mid-air.

"What?"

"I thought he couldn't use magic!" Sam didn't answer. He used the hesitation to move again, sprinting toward the next anchor. If he broke one more, the entire formation would destabilize.

"Stop him!" With more of his mana freed, his senses began to return. The room sharpened as he felt the flow of energy again, just in time to register the surge of blood magic converging on him. He pivoted and brought his sword and dagger together in front of him, using them as a focal point to force his mana outward. Where the blades met, a black spark ignited. It expanded instantly, swelling into a circular barrier that wrapped around his body.

The edges flickered as the weakened circle tried to drain it, but the loss of anchors had dulled its pull just enough for him to hold it. The next instant, the barrage hit. In the middle, part of his attention was attracted by his dagger, which began to absorb a part of the void mana channeled through it. He would have loved to examine it, but he had to put it aside as he had bigger things to worry about. The impact came in waves, each strike slamming into the shield in rapid succession.

The air filled with a thick, metallic scent as blood magic splashed and spread, obscuring vision and swallowing sound.

"More!"

"Keep it up!" The pressure mounted, the attacks stacking on top of each other as the room filled with churning red. Sam held his ground. Then, briefly, something pulled at his attention. The dagger. The void mana was flowing into it, not just through it, but into it. It absorbed not just part of the mana, but everything it came in contact with. The blade began to glow with a strange, unnatural light. He ignored it. For now. The barrage continued, but cracks were forming in their assault.

Mana and the blood cloud thickened in the air, decreasing visibility as the blood magic kept flowing. The floor was covered in pools of blood, all of them gently streaming toward the central pool in small rivulets. But the shield held.

"Shit! I have cooldowns!"

"Then use more blood!"

"I don't have any left!" Sam smirked. He dropped the shield and surged forward. The moment the barrier vanished, the remaining attacks rushed in, but they were already too late. He cut through the gap in their formation, closing the distance to the next anchor. Behind him, the delayed spells crashed into empty space. Ahead, a final desperate defense formed. A wave of blood rose to meet him, thick and heavy, shapes – shark-like – moving within it like predators circling prey.

Even he had to admit, it looked impressive. It didn't change anything. He drove forward, faster than the wave could fully form. Just as his dagger plunged into the fourth anchor, the blood crashed into him. The impact slammed him into the stone and dragged him off his feet, spinning him through the air and tearing away his balance. But it didn't matter. The damage was done. The runic circle broke. He felt it immediately. The oppressive pull on his mana stuttered, then vanished entirely.

And then everything rushed back in. Nature abhorred a vacuum. The empty space flooded with mana all at once, filling every crack and corner in an instant. There was no sound, no visible shockwave, but to Sam it felt like an explosion. Power surged through him, overfilling his body as the wave of blood finally released him and sent him hurtling across the room toward the remaining players. They weren't ready. For a split second, they stood frozen, distracted by the sudden return of mana. That was all he needed.

Sam twisted in the air, reorienting himself as void mana flared to life around him. It happened in slow motion. He saw them clearly, weapons rising, spells forming, the leader in the back already smiling as he watched Sam fly straight toward them. Even with his flight path, Sam had a perfect view when the leader noticed the void mana erupt from his body. The smile vanished, replaced instantly by horror. His mouth opened, trying to shout something, an order, a warning, a curse. But he was too late.

Sam hit the ground. Void mana exploded outward. It wasn't shaped into anything refined, just a raw eruption of power, but with the surge still flooding the room, it was more than enough. He felt the surge strengthening it, pushing it to be more than it actually was. The nearest two people were vaporized instantly. Those farther back had just enough time to understand what was happening before the wave reached them. The leader was the last to go, his voice breaking as the void consumed him.

"You fucker–" Sam stood still for a moment, catching his breath as the last remnants of energy faded from the air. He breathed for a moment, getting his body under control, before his eyes landed on the last target. Then he straightened, adjusted his armor with a small motion, and spun the dagger once in his hand as he walked toward the trembling trunk. It was quivering now. Whether from damage or instinct, it didn't matter. It could sense its creator's death. And probably its own, too…

Still staying silent, he stopped in front of it, the dagger blade shining with unrestrained void mana. Then, twirling it around once, he grasped it and drove it deep into the trunk.