Chapter 111: When Blood Is A Weapon

Luke sprinted through the trees, feet barely grazing the branches as he leapt from shadow to shadow. Above, the Black Bat flapped its massive wings, stirring the air with every beat as it tried to flee. If it got too far… Basic Blood Regeneration would break.

Luke had figured that out already. The skill had a range limit—directly tied to his Perception stat. The higher it was, the farther he could hunt. And right now… the bat was about to cross that invisible line.

Luke moved. He hurled both kukris—black blades slicing through the air like arrows. Thwip. Thwip. Blood sprayed. Bleed inflicted.

Without missing a beat, he activated Magnetic Return—the blades spun back, curved like boomerangs, and snapped perfectly into his hands. The bat flinched, agitated, and scrambled for the cavern ceiling—hanging upside down, wings twitching.

Perfect.

Luke slid beneath the shadow of a massive, root-twisted tree and went still. Hidden. Silent.

And once again—he began draining. One point at a time. Quiet. Invisible. It was practically psychological torture.

Maybe the creature was starting to sense it. Maybe it could feel something gnawing at it. But that was the real beauty of the skill—too slow to notice. Too fast to ignore.

If this had been a different type of enemy, Luke wouldn’t have even bothered.

Midnight Wardens? Forget it. Full armor. No exposed flesh. Trying to drain them was like squeezing blood from a statue. And most monsters healed over time. Bleed was a temporary debuff. If the bleeding stopped, the entire effort reset. But this bat… it was still bleeding. Maybe too dumb to care. Maybe too tough to notice. Either way, it didn’t matter.

It made for the perfect prey. A strong monster—but one vulnerable to a slow, silent death.

He didn’t need to overpower it. Just wait.

***

Luke sat beside Charlie, leaning against a tree whose roots tangled around themselves like the ribs of some ancient beast. His eyes were half-closed, body perfectly still as Meditation worked its magic. Mana trickled back, slow but steady. He let out a long sigh, leaning back until his head hit the trunk. Staring up at the cavern ceiling.

“Charlie… it’s like I get out of one problem just to land in an even bigger one,” Luke sighed. “Ever since I agreed to get integrated into this system… it’s just been nonstop crap. First the routing error, then the criminals, then the fall, then that floor boss… and now this… this cursed tutorial.”

He paused.

“Feels like nothing good ever happens to me.”

Silence.

Charlie turned her face toward him with an expression… annoyed? Annoyed seemed like a good guess. Luke could feel through the servant connection that his comment had bothered her.

He cracked one eye open. “What now?”

She pointed to the ring on her finger. Then to herself. Then to him.

Luke blinked.

“Oh…” A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Right. Yeah. My bad.”

He raised both hands.

“I guess… in the middle of all this chaos… I accidentally made a friend.”

Luke scratched the back of his neck.

“I didn’t mean nothing good ever happened. Just… it’d be nice if all the bad stuff didn’t show up so damn often. But yeah… I’m grateful for the good parts. Like… you.”

Charlie crossed her arms, giving a small, satisfied nod. For some reason, that landed way harder than he expected. She looked… genuinely happy.

Narrowly dodged that one.

“I’ve made a few friends. You. Allison. A few back at the Haven. But let’s be real… if this was just a jungle survival camp—instead of an actual hellhole with orcs, dinosaurs, and freaking Midnight Wardens—it’d be a way better experience.”

Charlie nodded again, like she was saying: ‘Fair point.’

Luke shifted his weight, lifting a hand toward the cavern ceiling. A thin current of energy linked to the surface, mana draining steadily as his skill activated.

“The bright side,” he muttered, “is that when everything’s this completely screwed… it can’t really get worse.”

The cavern disagreed.

A sharp crack echoed from above. Stone trembled. Pebbles rattled loose, cascading from the ceiling like nervous sweat.

Luke froze. A shift in the shadows caught his eye—and then the Black Bat unfolded its wings with a sudden, violent snap. It dropped from the ceiling with terrifying speed, a blur of muscle and fury. Just before impact, its wings flared wide, slicing through the air like blades of shadow as it crashed into the ground with enough force to rattle the earth.

The screech that followed wasn’t just loud—it clawed through Luke’s skull, high-pitched and violent.

He shot to his feet, kukris already in hand. “Goddammit! Why did I have to say it?”

He’d known the risk. The bat wasn’t stupid. It had felt something draining it from the shadows. It wasn’t waiting anymore. Wasn’t tolerating.

It wanted blood.

Luke and Charlie moved first, sprinting together. No hesitation.

The bat lunged. Wings snapped forward, releasing a burst of compressed air that hit like a freight train. Luke’s body flipped backward, tumbling across the dirt, pain blooming through his ribs. Charlie powered through it. Her iron bones absorbed the brunt of the force, her frame steady. She didn’t even flinch.

Sword in hand, she charged, closing the gap with terrifying speed—but the bat met her charge head-on, slamming its body into hers like a battering ram. She skidded across the stone, braced herself, then stabbed her blade into the ground, anchoring against the force. Sparks flew. Dust exploded. But she held her ground—and pushed back.

Luke ducked into the treeline, using the shadows for cover. His kukris spun in his hands—one, two, three—flung in tight, calculated arcs. Each blade struck its mark and returned to him with spectral precision. Again. Again. Cut it. Bleed it. Keep the pressure constant.

The bat twisted violently, letting out a furious roar. Its fangs gleamed in the torchlight, wings pounding the air with chaotic rhythm, scattering leaves and dirt like a localized storm.

Then Luke felt it.

The air shifted—barely. A subtle pulse. A vibration deep in his bones, low and strange. Something was coming. The fight was far from over.

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Echolocation!

The bat dove—low, fast. Trees snapped under its weight, branches shattered as it tore through the forest with jaws wide. Luke flipped back, twisting midair, and one kukri carved across the bat’s snout, opening a shallow line of red. Charlie was already there, sword biting deep into its flank, blood spraying across the stones.

The creature shrieked and twisted violently. Its wings snapped open, generating a blast of wind that hurled Luke backward. Air ripped from his lungs as he slammed into the ground, tumbling hard. The bat closed in again, bleeding, furious—faster now.

Luke caught its next charge on instinct. He deflected a bite, blades sliding along wet fangs, staggered, rolled, then sprinted back into position. Clash. Dodge. Spin. Cut. Keep moving. Keep the distance tight—but controlled.

Charlie barreled in from the side. A straight punch landed clean, and her sword followed—a sweeping arc aimed at its ribs. The bat reeled, stumbled—then lashed out. Its wings snapped inward, trapping her in an instant. Jaws lunged. It caught her.

Muscles straining, wings flared, the creature launched skyward, dragging her into the air.

Luke froze. She was too far. Out of range. If she died in that creature’s grip, outside the reach of his soul’s tether—she’d be gone. Permanently.

He ran. Kukris spun in his hands—thrown, one after another—but the bat was already climbing higher, wings pumping hard, hauling Charlie toward the cavern ceiling. Then it latched itself upside down, claws hooking into the rock. Its head lowered, fangs bared, and sank them deep into her side.

Charlie was being killed.

Then—silence.

A scream tore through the cavern, but it wasn’t Luke’s. It was the bat’s. A sound of pure agony.

The creature convulsed mid-air, wings faltering as a roar of pain echoed across the stone. Its grip collapsed. It fell.

But Charlie was already moving. Still alive. Sword in hand, spectral chains burst from her gauntlet and hooked into the beast’s back, yanking her upward. She flew toward it like a missile, spun mid-air, and carved her blade through its flesh—deep, brutal, ragged.

Landing atop its back, she anchored herself, then drove her sword down with everything she had. Together, they crashed.

The earth split with the impact. Blood splattered across the stone.

Then—stillness.

A flicker of blue crossed Luke’s vision.