Chapter 3

Just then, the sharp, cold sound of metal breaking shattered the abyss's silence.

On the steep rock walls, the dull echo of black-gold combat boots crushing bones reverberated. The newcomer made no effort to hide his presence—heavy dark-patterned armor clanked with each step, and the enchanted battle-axe dragging behind him cleaved through stone pillars, sending sparks flying.

It was John, Zack's most capable A-class guard captain.

They still couldn't rest easy up there. They'd sent their fiercest dog down to confirm I was dead.

Without a pause, I reversed my grip on the sharpened leg-bone spike, silently retreating into the shadow of a stalactite grove that had never seen light. The tip of the spike was stained a deep purple-black—freshly extracted high-tier howling wolf corpse venom. My useless left arm hung like dead weight at my side, and I suppressed my breathing and heartbeat until they were as cold as the rock itself.

John's boots stopped by the mud pool nearby. He glanced at the scattered monster carcasses; a muttered complaint came from beneath his metal mask: "A bunch of carrion-feeders... how much could even be left..."

He turned and reached out to push aside the venomous vines blocking the cave mouth.

Now!

A pale blur shot from the shadows. The wolf cub launched off a rocky outcropping and, midair, sank its sharp fangs into the two-inch gap between John's helmet and shoulder plate!

The enchanted armor rang out with a sharp clash. The wolf's frost power flooded through the bite, freezing John's axe-swing for a microsecond.

One microsecond was all I needed.

My leg muscles exploded—I launched from behind the stalactites like an arrow. Midair, I twisted my body around the axe-wind of his reflexive defense, ignoring it entirely. My right hand drove the venomous bone spike into the gap beneath his raised armpit—the weak point exposed by his movement—and buried it to the hilt.

Dark purple-black blood sprayed from the spike's blood groove.

John let out a muffled grunt of pain. But he didn't retreat or panic—when his eyes focused on my face, a flicker of contempt crossed them.

"Even a rat can survive two weeks?" He released his axe and brought both hands to the crimson-glowing chest plate over his heart.

Mirror image! A high-tier enchanted explosive scroll!

BOOM—!!!

A berserk magic sphere detonated at point-blank range between us! The blazing light pierced my remaining good eye like a blade. The searing pain of my retina burning through shot straight into my brain; my world went white, then plunged into absolute darkness.

The magical shockwave hit my chest like a meteor—the three ribs that had barely healed snapped clean again. My insides churned as I coughed up a mouthful of blood; I was sent flying and slammed back into the sharp stones and mud.

"Blind, broken—and you think you can bite back?"

Ten paces away, John's heavy breathing came through. The corpse venom was paralyzing him; his steps dragged, metal grinding—he was drawing his backup bloodletting knife from his belt.

I lay still in the mud. Blood from my eyes streamed down my face. The world had fallen completely silent.

He approached. I was unarmed. Totally blind.

But what he didn't know was that two weeks in this abyss had taught me to kill without eyes.

I pressed my ear to the cold, wet mud.

Three steps. Right side.

"Mmm..." The wolf cub's low growl echoed from the distance, coordinating with my position.

Two steps. Dead ahead.

The sound of cutting wind came—the cold sharpness of a short blade. Instead of dodging, I used instinct and threw myself into the path of the blade!

Thud!

The knife pierced my useless left shoulder, the blade stuck in dead muscle. With the nerves long dead, the wound that would have made any man scream felt like nothing.

In the instant of impact, my right hand followed the trajectory of the knife, slithered up his forearm, and yanked. I pressed myself flush against his chest, my fingers hooking under the edge of his jaw armor.

"Fool!" He tried to drop the knife and pull back.

Too late.

I threw my head back and, aiming at the exposed throat exposed by his recoil—bit down.

My teeth sank through skin and punctured the pulsing artery. Hot blood gushed into my mouth like a pressure pump, splashing across my sightless eyes. John's body convulsed; his fists hammered into my back like sledgehammers, cracking my spine, but my jaw muscles held tight—then ripped back!

The sound of tearing flesh echoed endlessly in the dead space.

A chunk of cartilage and trachea came away in my teeth. The fists on my back went limp. The armored giant collapsed at my feet like a puppet with its strings cut.

I crouched in the blood, spat out the flesh, and coughed violently—coughing up the pooled blood from my lungs.

Blind. But I was the one who survived.

The wolf cub licked the blood from its paws and let out a low whimper.

I fumbled through John's corpse, unbuckled his belt, and my fingers brushed against a hexagonal crystal pulsing with faint magic—a communication crystal. Exactly the kind of toy Zack loved to use for remote gloating.

I calmly tore a strip of cloth from John's cloak and wrapped it tightly around my bleeding eyes. Then I reached for the axe beside me, aimed at what was left of John's neck, and swung.

Seconds later, I channeled magic into the communication crystal.

A clear light screen flickered to life. On the other end, Zack's lazy, condescending voice drawled: "Cleaned up yet?"

He got no reply. Instead, the image on the screen made him suck in a sharp breath.

A man stood before him—both eyes wrapped in cloth, body covered in festering wounds and blood, his left arm completely useless.

Two weeks ago, he'd treated this man like a cripple he could crush underfoot.

I didn't need eyes to know how interesting his face looked right now. I raised my right hand and pushed the severed head I was holding straight to the front of the crystal screen.

Blood was still dripping into the mud.

"Your dog's teeth weren't sharp enough," I said, my voice hoarse, utterly flat.

The breathing on the other end stopped entirely. Zack's prized A-class guard captain—killed by a blind cripple, his throat torn out bare-handed.

Before he could speak, I grinned. The dried blood on my face cracked with the movement.

"You're next."

My fingers closed. Crack—the communication crystal shattered to dust in my palm.

I leaned on the axe and straightened up.