Chapter 112: Hell Comes With Blades
by[Princess Charlie has acquired the Class Skill: Spectral Barrier.]
Luke had made the call—for purely strategic reasons. He knew the skill would fit Charlie’s style: sword in one hand, barrier in the other. It just made sense. He’d been torn between this and Spectral Arrow Barrage, but in the end, pragmatism won out.
The arrow skill? It would only catch the mantis off guard once. Maybe. And Luke had no idea how much mana it burned. Worse, he couldn’t safely engage the creature while the arrows were raining down—if he timed it wrong, he could end up right in the blast zone.
At best, it was a one-time trick. After that, the mantis would figure it out and just step out of the attack zone. That left Luke in a corner—with no follow-up, no angle of approach, no backup plan.
Sure, they’d have a ranged skill. But it’d be useless once the monster adapted. Worse, once it locked on to them, closing distance would be nearly impossible. They’d be stuck facing a creature that was faster than either of them could react to. And that was game over.
So the barrier won.
He’d put Charlie in front, barrier active, and wait for his opening. The setup wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But it was the only shot they had. The whole scenario was stacked against them. Luke knew that. But there was no fixing it now. It was this plan… or die in that cave.
[Spectral Barrier (Rare)]: A translucent barrier that rises to absorb incoming damage, whether physical or magical. It consumes mana while active. While the barrier holds, it reduces damage taken, allowing the Death Knight to withstand brutal blows and devastating spells alike. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and other high-level magic are included. However, its durability has limits. Powerful strikes can shatter the barrier, and maintaining it depends entirely on your mana pool. Use it wisely. Like any defense, it comes at a cost.
Charlie raised her left hand.
A soft glow formed in front of her, taking shape. A faintly blue, translucent rectangle appeared, edged with subtle lines. It floated in front of her arm like a hovering magic shield. Almost like liquid glass.
Luke stepped closer and pressed his palm against it.
Cold. Solid. Buzzing with static energy.
Charlie took a few steps forward. The barrier followed perfectly, hovering steadily in front of her movements.
“Mobile… that’s perfect,” Luke muttered, observing. “You can fight with your sword in one hand and pop the barrier with the other. It’s like having your own personal support.”
Charlie nodded and then lowered her arm. The barrier faded with a soft flash.
Luke pulled up her status screen.
“Two mana per second… and you’ve got 410 total. So that’s just over three minutes of uptime if you keep it running nonstop.”
He rubbed his chin.
“We’ll need to be smart about it. No keeping it active all the time. Only turn it on in critical moments. Use it like a reactive shield. And if you can, save it for the big hits. The Mantis is fast, but it’s also a brute. If this thing can soak even one of its charges, it’ll be worth every drop of mana.”
His gaze shifted toward the tunnel ahead. The distant sounds of insects echoed against the stone. Centipedes. The buzz of winged things. The low growls of other monsters.
Luke spun his kukris between his fingers.
“Well… there’s only one way to test that barrier.”
A slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s head into the fight.”
***
A giant ant barreled straight toward Luke—but something moved faster.
Charlie stepped between them.
Her barrier flared into existence, a translucent blue wall snapping into place just as the ant collided head-on. The impact sent the creature skidding backward, legs flailing as it tumbled across the dirt.
The moment the pressure eased, Charlie dropped the shield, spun, sword already in hand, and struck. One clean arc. One decisive blow.
[Princess Charlie has slain a Gladiator Ant – Level 15]
Before the body even hit the ground, something dropped from above. Fast. Heavy. Sticky. A spider the size of a bear, descending in wild zigzags, spewing webs as it closed in.
Charlie raised the barrier again. Calm. Steady. Holding ground as the creature lined up for an attack. The instant it shifted to strike, her barrier vanished. Charlie launched forward. Her sword plunged deep into the spider’s abdomen, dragging a shriek from the beast as it crashed down.
Desperate, the spider fired another strand of web—thick, sticky, fast. The barrier snapped back up. The web hit, stuck, tension pulling tight. Without hesitation, Charlie dropped the shield, yanked the web toward her, and surged forward. One step. One strike. A clean cut through chitin and flesh.
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[Princess Charlie has slain a Jumping Spider – Level 14]
The ground split open behind her. A centipede erupted from the soil, all gnashing mandibles and churning legs, rushing straight for her. Barrier up. The creature slammed into it, driving her back two meters, feet dragging through the dirt—but she held. Then the barrier vanished. Her sword shot forward. Straight line. Clean execution.
[Princess Charlie has slain a Cave Centipede – Level 14]
From a distance, Luke watched. Quiet. Focused. Observing every movement, every mistake, every correction. Charlie wasn’t just learning how to summon the barrier. She was learning how to fight with it. How to read the rhythm of an attack. When to hold. When to release. When to turn defense into offense.
But it wasn’t perfect. Luke noticed the cracks.
The Spectral Barrier wasn’t infinite. It didn’t simply hold as long as there was mana. There were physical limits baked into the skill’s structure. Every heavy impact left its mark. Fractures spread like thin fault lines across the surface, spiderwebbing outward with each hit. Even if Charlie deactivated the shield before it collapsed entirely, the damage lingered. It was like holding a cracked window in place. Still functional. Still standing. But one wrong move from shattering.
And when it shattered… the penalty was brutal. The skill wouldn’t just break; it would become unusable mid-combat, taking far longer to recover than simply letting it drop manually.
Luke crossed his arms, frowning. The skill was strong. Really strong. But subtle. Demanding. It wasn’t about brute force. It was about mastery. Timing. Self-control.




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