Floor 2 Joint Trial (6) - Meditation's Reinforcement Amid the Assault
Meditation's physical enhancement. At first, I just thought of it as simple muscle strength or speed, maybe even stamina or toughness if I pushed it further. But true to its four-star skill status, the applications are endless.
Remaining Energy:[11% / 100%]
Energy that fills up just as quickly as it depletes. Inject it into my eyes like a shot, and my dynamic vision sharpens. Sure, there's that nauseating, abrasive pain like rubbing vinyl against them, and dumping too much at once leads to heavy fatigue or muscle spasms... but...
Pfsh! Pfsh!
That's barely worth mentioning.
"Haha!"
This is my first real fight today, but adrenaline and dopamine are exploding in my brain, wrapping me in intense euphoria and excitement. Even a street brawl gets people tense when lives are on the line. But... if the enemy looks unbearably slow, and I've got overwhelming strength and toughness etched into my instincts, what's there to fear?
I methodically picked off the monsters slipping through gaps in the shelters, staying low-key without drawing attention.
Where the hell do they even get knives from?
It was tiny enough to call a pocket knife. Rusted to hell from age, which somehow made it even more menacing. I dodged as the human-like things swung them wildly, then smashed my fist down.
Meanwhile, hulking brutes and twisted ones with sharp weapons lurked in the shadows, evading the sentries to infiltrate here. Clever and cunning. They targeted the climbers huddled in crowds or bright spots out of fear.
"Kyaaak! Help!!"
"Over there... over there, you fucking bastards! Come closer and you're dead!"
And it worked all too well. Dozens of twisted doppelgangers had already breached Base Camp, attacking people. Some lay bleeding on the ground, motionless—dead, by the look of it.
I sprinted toward the screams. A handful of men and women—or what looked like barely legal teens—huddled together, facing off against corrupted doppelgangers.
Even in this chaos, those still hiding in shelters were the cowards or the weak. Ironically, that's why the cunning ones were picking them off most.
Why's a minor even here?
I shoved the fleeting question aside and leaped forward, grabbing a nearby rock and hurling it. Meditation had swollen my muscles, veins bulging with power. The stone shot out like a shot put, exploding one monster's arm and embedding deep in its temple.
"Urk..."
No matter how you slice it, watching something die never gets easier. These monster bastards look just like humans, handstands aside. Killing to survive still burns gruesome scenes into my brain, the kind that haunt dreams.
Fourteen monsters encircled the huddled group. Damn, that's a lot of you fuckers.
Remaining Energy:[21% / 100%]
True to its quick-draw nature, it recharges fast. 1% to kill one. 3% each for constant speed, reflexes, and dynamic vision. Slaughtering doppelgangers up to my energy limit was over in seconds.
Punches flying faster than any pro boxer could dream shattered skulls one by one. The horrific sensation of pulverizing fragile human skin and cracking bone flowed through my fingertips. Gritting my teeth, I repeated the kills silently until the energy boost faded.
0%. The number hit, and crushing fatigue slammed me.
"N-Now's our chance!"
"Waaaaah!!"
"Aaaah! Run, you guys!!"
But it didn't matter. The cunning ones fled the moment they sensed defeat, and the non-combatants—realizing support was stronger than expected—grabbed makeshift weapons and charged.
The skirmish ended in a flash. One man approached me. I figured thanks were coming, but his frantic expression said otherwise.
"Are you a Hard difficulty ranker by any chance?"
"Y-Yeah... something like tha—"
"Hurry to the west side! Grace and the high-rankers are holding it there!!"
Before I could reply, he pointed urgently, shoving my back to go. Sweat poured off him; he was so desperate I just nodded without protest.
Grace and high-rankers?
Base Camp's core forces, all gathered. But... was heading there really the play? Screams and shouts still erupted everywhere. Weak climbers' cries mixed with inhuman malice.
"Waaaaah!!! Get out! Stay back, you bastards!!"
A man atop a ruin hurled fist-sized rocks, screaming. Soft flesh met hard stone—chunks tearing, blood spraying—horrid shrieks blanketing the base.
Then—a chill wind brushed my clothes. Every torch in the base snuffed out, plunging us into pitch black... as clouds finally swallowed the moon.
Sharp noises. Voices vanished like a lie. Disoriented people blinded by darkness; monsters hiding breaths to kill...
Drip—
The sudden silence made me doubt my ears were working. Then, an eardrum-shattering scream echoed from somewhere.
The man on the ruins, lobbing rocks to hold them off. Something grabbed his ankle, yanking him into shadow. Flesh ripping, lungs deflating in a death rattle—then silence. Blood scent wafted from where he vanished.
Something stole the light. The tide turned.
Two choices: Rush west where high-rankers and Grace held the line, or protect the non-combatants inside, blocking monsters exploiting unguarded breaches.
No intel on the big picture made it tough.
Shuuung—!! Boom! Bwoom!!
A meteor-like whoosh and explosion. Seconds later, a blinding flash banished the dark.
"Flashbang...!"
A skill the Climber Association taught some for tactical use, like military flares. Dozens learned it, but only a few were here—not enough to clear all shadows. Still, the skyward burst pinpointed Grace's group: west sector. Distress signal?
Checking meditation energy internally, I decided to head there—
A red orb streaked past my head like a comet, shooting opposite.
Bwoom!!
Sky lit again. Hidden monsters revealed in the gloom.
"Insane—"
Over a hundred, easy. They infiltrated silently, no breaths or footsteps. I got their game now. No more worries west.
They'd bulked up post-Floor 1 lesson. Grace and high-rankers would handle it. My job: Stop small groups breaching inside.
I spun, leaping into their midst.
Thud—!!
Wall- and roof-running, dark shapes matched my speed, leaping up.
"...Humans?"
Looked like allies at first. Two-legged launch.
Shrrk—!
Something slashed my cheek from shadow. Not human.
Variant!
Doppelganger overcoming its twisted body. Midair twist, kicking off ground with feet. Thighs bloated unnaturally—each leap cracked buildings, covering meters effortlessly. Beyond human limits.
Three variants closed in terrifyingly fast. Up close, they were grotesque: muscles hypertrophied, tendons straining to burst. Faces raging enough to kill several bare-handed. Fingers sharpened to shred anything caught.
Meditation energy: under 10%. No weapon. Handle three unscathed?
Thud—!!
A normal person would've exploded—flesh, blood, bone shards spraying. Instant death.
Germination (Seed of Resistance)
"You ate a strength reinforcement stone, huh."
Massive energy surge: veins and tendons ballooned, agony like dozens squeezing my arm.
Bam!!
My fist turned its face to a water balloon—skull pierced. Squishy then hard... warm, wet aftermath on my knuckles.
And... a swung, swollen human leg from blind spot.
"Aorum Bidan."
A translucent glow summoned behind me, followed by clay-smashing impact. Aorum Bidan bought a turn.
Energy to waist, shoulders, neck: instant strength and flexibility boost. Dodged the head-kick, stomped its chest into mount position.
Knees pinned arms. One, two, three—punches neutralized it. Forehead caved. Clear kill.
Whirled to finish the last—
"Hey, you're... tougher than you look?"
Not Aorum Bidan as punching bag, but... the variant pulling one into its embrace, drowning it.
The inside one thrashed to escape, then—huff—went still. Dead?
"Ooh—fuck... die pretty already...!"
Restless eyes plotting murder. Chest bloated with air. Faint twitches... Not drowned. Stopped breathing to conserve oxygen and energy when escape failed.
Yanked it out, stomped the skull. Crack—fissures, blood pooling. Caved in. No need for confirmation.
No breather—distant screams. Dozens crying out.
I bolted toward the only torchlight: second-floor building. Down to entrance—blinding sight inside.
"Ah... uhk... hng... euk—"
A woman writhing, sweat-soaked, body rigid... and before her, a handstanding human—no, monster—doing nothing.
One oddity: the handstander and fallen woman were identical.
Shoving its face creepily close, talking. First time seeing a monster speak—I froze too.
"Y-Yes...? Wh-what... did you... s-say? I c-can't... hear... Ah. Aaaaah—"
The rigid woman on the floor stammered back at the doppelganger's words. Slurred speech, muscles locked—panic?
No.
—Do not converse with anything bearing your likeness.
One of the underground stele's guidelines—
Far worse than panic—
"Wait! Don't talk to it!"
I recalled and charged. Meditation energy fueled a soccer kick. Brutal force snapped its neck—crunch!!—hurling it into the wall.
But as it flew, its face twisted into a grotesque grin—
"Ah, aaaah— Kyaaaak! M-My body! Aaaah it huuuurts!!!!"
Crack—snap crackle pop. Horrifying sounds like every joint shattering and tearing. The fallen woman's body literally twisted.
"Ah......"
In seconds, flesh ripped across her body. Blood poured from eyes, nose, mouth, skin—
And she stood on her hands.