• The One With Opportunity

Watching Alfis yell and scream at the top of his lungs as the beast dragged him through the air, Deremiah arrived at the realization that he and Pallock were sitting ducks at this point.

The Paragon was basically killing them all one by one, and their disorderliness — which was frankly his fault for increasing the Lobby's Difficulty — was the main reason why.

However, appointing blame now was pointless. Undeniably, something had to be done now, or else once that beast was finished with Alfis, either he or Pallock would be next.

"You!" Drawn from his thoughts, Deremiah lifted his head, hearing a screeching yell from the terrified noble. "Deremiah!!"

Their eyes locked while the Paragon continued to whip him around, trying to keep him in place. "You're powerful, aren't you?! You at least have Seven Marks! Come on, stop hiding! Use your power! Use your power and save me!"

Deremiah's eyes narrowed at Alfis's words, mostly because of how untrue they were. Nevertheless, Alfis believed it to be true, and so did Pallock who was watching him with wide eyes behind the fallen tree.

Irrespective of all that, the undeniable truth was that he was not leaving that Corridor unless the Moltenshark was dead.

"Help me! Help me, Deremiah!" Alfis's desperate cries continued. "You better help me now or I'll never forgive you! I'll never forgive you for killing my brother!"

Deremiah moved his gaze between Alfis and the Corrupted Paragon while Pallock watched in dreadful anticipation. He studied the beast with his lavender eyes, tracing the scales from its head all the way down to abdomen — the weak point which was small, hidden but left unprotected by the molten scales.

It was hard to reach, Deremiah could see that. But he was definitely going to try. Not because he intended to save Alfis, but because the Moltenshark's attention was elsewhere and once Alfis dies, all of its attention would be directed at Deremiah.

Now was the optimum time to attack.

Quietly, ignoring the other yells and cries from Alfis, he exited from behind the protrusion and slinked quietly towards his sword. Once he was close enough, he opened his hand and the sword lifted from the ground, the cold hilt embracing his palm.

Deremiah looked to his right and saw Pallock still seated behind the tree, terrified to bits, and watching him with hope. He exhaled, coming to terms that killing that beast was completely up to him.

His eyes then fixed on the abdomen once again, and he refused to look anywhere else. Target was acquired, and as he knew... "Just a precise strike will be enough to kill it," he whispered to himself.

"No!! Please!!" Alfis continued to cry, shooting out blasts from the gauntlets that in turn kept the Moltenshark busy.

Deremiah tightened his grip on the corrupted sword and after a gulp and three readying jumps, he sprinted forward.

The wind whipped against him, his blood pumped, his eyes felt like they were burning, and although he never understood why characters did it in novels and movies, a yell escaped him.

The blade was stretched out in front of him and his steps quickened as he charged. Feet stomping on the ground, he saw that he was already halfway close to the beast and it was yet to notice his threat, thankfully.

He ran. Closer. Closer.

The tip of his sword glistened, thirsting for Paragon blood. But just when he thought he was going to pull it off, one of the Paragon's eyes moved.

A chill ran through Deremiah's spin, but still he did not stop. Hopefully, he would be fast enough to reach the abdomen before the Moltenshark could put together an attack.

But... he wasn't fast enough. The Paragon took its focus off Alfis for a moment and shot out its second tendril at Deremiah.

Deremiah panicked now, he had to get out of the way, but that would mean losing his only opportunity to get a clean strike on that weak point.

On the other hand, remaining on course would require him to close the distance faster than the incoming tendril.

However, that was impossible.

After a brisk calculation of probabilities, Deremiah ultimately came to the decision to step away.

But before he could do that, a strange sensation suddenly washed over him. It was a split second tingling, but he felt it through his body like it was shifting, like liquid rushing through his veins.

Before he could even comprehend it, Deremiah's body exploded into a viscous purple goo.

Twack!

The tendril smacked the ground where he had been just a mini-second ago.

'What the—?' He felt himself become completely lifeless, and then moving at what had to be a thousand miles in a second, speeding through a purple vortex that strangely felt like it was part of him as well.

Still not giving him time to process what was happening, the goo reassembled in front of the beast.

A mad roar of pain escaped the Paragon.

Deremiah's eyes widened. He saw that his sword was already embedded in its weak spot, both of his hands extended forward, holding on to the hilt.

The beast was frozen, and the tendril holding on to Alfis released him, causing him to crash to the ground and lose his consciousness.

Deremiah however, continued to stare at the blade in disbelief, breathing heavily. The Moltenshark let out a weaker roar, lava bubbled around its legs and green blood began to ooze out of the stab wound.

Gritting his teeth, Deremiah twisted the blade. It met a little resistance as it ruptured the beast's innards.

He held the hilt tighter and yanked his sword free with a wet, squelching sound, causing the blood to erupt from the wound.

Some of it sprayed onto Deremiah, drenching his arms, face, and chest in the viscous, foul-smelling liquid. Standing there, he felt it burn against his skin, and the putrid, metallic stench was completely horrible and utterly disgusting.

Deremiah made a face, a face that was tired of all of this happening to him. The smell invaded his senses and his stomach began to churn while his own skin irritated him.

Not only was it the blood that irritated him, but it was the realization that he had actually just killed something; a living, breathing creature, albeit monstrous.

Deremiah stood there, drenched in Paragon blood as the nausea began to hit. With a gasp, he pushed his body forward and vomited violently onto the ground, expelling everything from his stomach.

The poor author had seen more violence in one day than he had in his entire life and his body was still getting used to it. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, but the revolting stench of the beast's blood still clung to him.

Dizziness began to overtake him, and in an attempt to stand up straight, his body finally gave out. Deremiah's mind went numb and he fell backward, landing with a thud against the blood-soaked ground.

Before his vision gave out, he saw his Status Cube appear before him, and its chime pierced through the haze of his fading consciousness.

[You have defeated your adversary]

[Beast slain: Moltenshark (Corrupted)]

[Second Trial has been completed]

A flush of relief surged through him in that moment, and his eyes slowly fluttered shut. 'Feels a bit like deja vu,' his sleeping mind managed to find some humor.

But as his vision darkened completely, and his mind finally drifted into unconsciousness, one more notification came through.

[Alert: As a One Mark participant, your Soul Core is insufficient. The high-tier rewards for defeating a Paragon beast of the Corrupted rank can not be claimed].