Ch 40

  “Now wait just one second,” Emily interjected, halting Matt just as he was about to move toward the entrance to the next floor. “Why should you risk yourself even more than you already have?”

  “Because I haven’t gained anything of value down here,” Matt replied firmly. “The rest of you have moved up at least one level, while I haven’t even reached 300 experience points. Don’t think for a second that I’m sacrificing myself for the team—I’m seizing an opportunity.”

  “Please, take some time to recover before you move forward,” Emily pleaded, her concern evident. “Who knows what you might face once you’re on your own.”

  “No matter what challenges await, Zara’s life depends on my succeeding here and on the reward that will help save her,” Matt said, his voice steady despite the weight of responsibility.

  “Will you stop shouldering our lives on your chest already?!” Emily shouted, tears streaming from her right eye and drawing attention to the damage on her left. “I’m sure that my next rank-up will let me repair—”

  “Healing a wound isn’t the same as removing a scar,” Greg interjected. “I already think we’re all going to look like cancer patients for a while after this ordeal. I just hope that by completing this final challenge, Matt will help us regain full function of our bodies—and maybe even some decent clothing.”

  “I still think it’s wrong for you to risk your life for us, even if you say you’re not doing it for that reason!” Emily shouted, fixing Matt with a look that dared him to contradict her.

  “I don’t care,” Matt responded. “Right now, this is the first chance I’ve had here where I must face the challenge alone. I won’t lie and say I’m fully confident, but I’m at least looking forward to having a few moments to myself. Zara, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take your sword with me for this fight.”

  Emily was speechless, and with a small smile, Matt stepped forward before anyone could stop him. Just as he reached the threshold, Eleanor spoke softly.

  “Matt, thank you. For everything.”

  Matt gave her a quick nod and turned to face his next step. In a matter of moments, the passage behind him sealed shut, and he found himself on a set of familiar stairs. As he descended, he neither rushed nor hesitated—he simply let himself savor that brief moment of peace, even as the pain from each step reminded him of the burns his body was still healing from. For the first time since his world had been turned upside-down, Matt felt calm, secure in the knowledge that for just a short while, he was not in immediate danger while being truly alone.

  If one were to wonder where his thoughts wandered during those moments, they might not have expected him to be contemplating gutting freshly caught fish. Yet that memory brought him joy—reminding him not only of a secured meal but also of Bob’s delight in savoring the fresh guts. There was also a deep satisfaction in knowing that all his hard work had provided him with another day to fight for his survival. With this mindset in mind, Matt stepped out of the staircase and into a circular room dominated by a crystal ball at its center. Seeing no alternative but to face the inevitable struggle, he stepped forward and placed his hand upon it.

  Level 4 participant identified.

  Adjusting scenario accordingly.

  Defeat all enemies.

  Matt was curious as to why any of that information needed to be shared with him, though he at least appreciated knowing that his task was straightforward: kill monsters to survive. Yet, as he held Zara’s sword at the ready, a sense of dread washed over him. Three ominous figures materialized as the crystal ball sank into the floor. Each of these figures was clad in dark armor and wielded short spears that ended in sword-like blades. Matt felt they were called something else, but he didn’t know the name of every polearm out there and wasn't even sure if they had an equivalent on Earth. As the three armored figures advanced toward him, his mind raced.

  As he prepared to counter their attack, an odd sensation came from Zara’s blade. Usually, he felt an unsettling dissonance when holding any of the weapons given to others at the start of their stay in this world. However, this time, that feeling vanished, replaced by a calm sense of surety and trust. It was as if Zara herself approved of him wielding her sword. Although it didn’t entirely make sense to him, since Zara wasn’t a weapon to be wielded, he took it as a positive sign.

  Trusting his instincts and the reassuring feeling from the blade, Matt met the advance of the three figures with quick parries and nimble dodges, slipping inside their guards. While two of them adjusted swiftly, the third had no time to react as Matt buried Zara’s sword into its neck area, causing its head to topple. He then closed ranks with one of the remaining two, trading a slash to his shoulder for another decapitation. Finally, he turned to face the last of the three enemies. This final figure seemed to decide that taking its time before attacking was in its best interest and began to slowly circle Matt, studying him intently.

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  This scenario worked well in Matt’s mind as he slowly healed, believing there was no need to rush; he was certain that once the current fight ended, even more enemies would soon follow. Instead, he was more interested in mastering Zara’s blade, practicing his strikes as he clashed repeatedly with his foe over the next few minutes. However, when three more adversaries materialized before his eyes, Matt quickly reconsidered his approach. It was as if someone had set a ticking clock on the challenge, prompting him to move in decisively. After deftly deflecting a blow, he readjusted his stance and struck again, targeting the gap between the helm and breastplate.

  The next three enemies advanced, each brandishing halberds. Matt wasted no time; he managed to fend off two while closing in to dispatch the third. Noticing that the weapons from the first group had vanished along with their bodies, he abandoned any plans to repurpose his fallen foes’ arms as he had on the previous floor. Instead, he trusted his instincts—those deep, often mysterious impulses that still eluded full explanation—to guide his every move. Ultimately, this reliance on gut reaction cost him; he traded an injury to his left hand in the process of defeating the second halberd-wielding enemy before finally settling in for a prolonged skirmish with the first.

  Despite the risk inherent in his tactic, Matt felt compelled to prolong each encounter, giving his minor wounds small windows of time to heal. After all, even with the persistent time limits imposed on each wave, he was confident that finishing one battle meant the next was inevitable. Sure enough, only a few minutes later, three more armored figures appeared—each wielding polearms with three tips, offset at roughly 45 degrees.

  The subsequent rounds unfolded in much the same manner as the ones before. Various types of polearms flashed in the dim light, and Matt noticed the intervals between rounds steadily shrinking as fatigue began to set in. When the sixth wave arrived, this time armed with what resembled oversized studded baseball bats, Matt found himself pushed onto the defensive. He had grown accustomed to the rhythm of battling polearms, so this abrupt change in tactics forced him to nearly risk breaking his arm to neutralize the first attacker.

  Yet, with a swift adjustment in his angle of attack, Matt managed to force the three assailants into one another, effectively dealing with the first two in rapid succession—barely a minute had passed since their arrival. This left him locked in combat with the final opponent for about a minute and a half until three more emerged, this time wielding shorter clubs with even more vicious spikes. These enemies proved even trickier to dispatch quickly without incurring significant injury, but somehow, Matt managed to overcome them, suffering only a single blow to his side. However, that minor wound was enough to send a shiver of concern down his spine as he began to wonder how many more rounds he’d have to endure, especially now that his injuries were no longer healing at a satisfactory pace between rounds.

  When he encountered the eighth group of three foes, his side wound was still oozing blood slowly, and the imposing hammers each combatant wielded made Matt’s brow furrow. Although he had expected these three to be an easier target, he knew that even a single precise strike from those hammers was capable of shattering bones. While he wasn’t particularly worried about a single broken bone thwarting his regeneration, he doubted that healing more than one major injury in the midst of battle was a wise move. Thus, Matt advanced with extreme caution, managing to dispatch the second enemy before three more armored figures, brandishing massive axes, suddenly appeared.

  This marked the beginning of what felt to Matt like the true test of his endurance; from the ninth through the fifteenth wave, he found himself constantly overwhelmed by the relentless timing of new adversaries. Still, it wasn’t until the sixteenth wave—when three opponents armed with swords and shields emerged—that the situation truly deteriorated. By this point, several cuts on Matt’s body were bleeding freely and he suspected that one or two of his ribs had been cracked during the fray. To compound matters, two remaining foes armed with rapiers and daggers relentlessly pushed him to his limit. Clenching his teeth, Matt allowed a precise hit to his left shoulder in order to eliminate one of the rapier-wielding enemies, and he swiftly dispatched the last one just before the newcomers could close the distance.

  Unfortunately, the trio of newly arrived adversaries fought defensively, and Matt struggled merely to avoid being encircled. Within less than a minute, three additional enemies, each armed with a bow, appeared, causing Matt to sweat under the mounting pressure. Had it not been for the cover provided by the immediate enemies, that first volley of arrows would likely have sealed his fate. Fortunately, that dire outcome was averted as Matt poured every ounce of energy into keeping the situation from spiraling out of control.

  Seizing the moment when he managed to create an opening on one of the shield-bearing foes, Matt drove him directly into the midst of the bow-wielding attackers. What ensued were 30 chaotic seconds during which Matt somehow traded an arrow to his left thigh and another to his left side, ultimately taking down all three archers, leaving only two enemies with swords and shields standing. However, his brief moment of triumph was soon extinguished as three additional foes, each armed with a crossbow, materialized around him. Although he quickly dispatched them, the fight came with a price—three bolts lodged in his torso.

  Barely had Matt extracted the last of the arrows and bolts from his body before a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. At that very moment, three more adversaries arrived, heralding the onset of the nineteenth wave. Thankfully, Matt had repositioned himself away from the enemy spawn points, as he was not keen on facing three katana-wielding foes unannounced, especially in his current battered state. Yet, he remained uncertain how he would endure, let alone defeat them in under a minute to avoid facing even harsher odds in the relentless battle.