Battle Scars

The pillar of teleportation light died out abruptly after the little princess vanished, leaving only a burnt-out core on the Return Platform that crumbled into dust and scattered into the wind.

Erich grabbed the black blade that had pierced his abdomen and impaled his back. His palms were sliced open, blood dripping down the steel. The man in black in front of him tried to pull the sword out, but the blade was wedged tightly between Erich's muscles and bones. The friction was immense, but what truly kept the weapon from budging was Erich's death grip on the blade itself.

With his other hand, Erich gripped his own sword in a reverse hold and brought it down. Under the man's terrified gaze, his expression froze instantly, and his lifeless body slumped to the ground.

Deprived of mana support, the shadow longsword dissolved into black mist inside Erich's abdomen, leaving behind a relatively clean puncture wound. He tore off two strips from his sleeves. One he stuffed brutally into the wound, bringing on an unimaginable wave of agony. The other he wrapped tightly twice around his waist and tied off with a dead knot. The fabric quickly stained red, but at least his guts wouldn't spill out in the short term.

Then, he pulled back his hood. His silver hair, fluttering in the wind, was exceptionally striking against the dusty-yellow backdrop of the Abyss.

There were still at least a dozen men in black surrounding the Return Platform. They had been closing in, but upon seeing his face, they stopped dead in their tracks. The closest one even took a few steps back. “Erich Edmond. I never expected the legitimate son of the Edmond family to fall to such a state.”

Erich didn't reply. The translucent wings on his back snapped open, and he raised his sword, pointing the tip directly at the men in black.

“Now, it's my turn.”

Erich transformed into a blur of silver light.

There was no fairness between those who could fly and those who couldn't. Erich darted through the crowd in a completely unpredictable trajectory. Every swing of his longsword claimed a life, his movements so fast that the men in black didn't even have time to form a formation.

“Erich!” someone roared. “Do you know why Leonora came to the Abyss? She came to kill you! We are not enemies. Stop!”

Erich's sword only grew faster.

He knew. Of course he knew the little princess had come to cause trouble for him. If he thought deeper, Leonora was even a catalyst for Isa's death. If not for her, these men in black wouldn't have appeared in the Abyss. If not for her, perhaps they wouldn't have been cornered. If not for her, perhaps when facing the Bone-Spine Pearl Mother, he and Isa could have cooperated flawlessly just as they had done countless times in the Abyss, rather than being impaled by spiders that had appeared out of nowhere.

But so what?

Ultimately, the little princess hadn't lifted a finger against them. He had even rescued her from a spider cocoon. On their journey, she had done nothing but cry and sleep, and at the end, she had tapped his shoulders with the flat of her blade, babbling about knighting him. At worst, she was just a spoiled brat who had run into the Abyss to play the fool; her actions didn't warrant death. Even if Erich couldn't help but feel some resentment, once they were out, she could go her way and he would go his. They could simply cut all ties and never cross paths again.

But this group of men in black was different. They were the ones who had blocked the mines. It was because of them that Isa had been ambushed. Aside from the spiders that were already dead, they were the primary cause of Isa's death. This was a debt he had to settle.

Erich descended, his toes tapping lightly on a man's shoulder as he flipped through the air. His sword swept out in an arc, and three men around him collapsed simultaneously.

“He's only one man! Surround him!”

The person who shouted those words lost his voice in the next second. Erich's sword thrust through his mouth, the tip piercing out the back of his neck and dragging a spray of blood mist with it.

A thick layer of corpses already carpeted the ground, yet more men in black kept appearing. They poured continuously out of the withered woods surrounding the Return Platform, as if they had set an ambush long ago, waiting precisely for this moment.

Erich's breathing grew heavier. His mana was nearly depleted, and the luster of the wings on his back began to dim. Every swing of his sword required him to marshal his entire body's strength to squeeze out the last remnants of his power, yet the force behind his strikes continued to weaken.

The wound in his abdomen burned like fire. Blood soaked through the fabric wrapped around his waist, mixing with the blood of the men in black that had splattered onto him during the fight. Under the tempering of his mana, the wound seemed to come alive. With it as the epicenter, a complex pattern began to spread across Erich's skin, red lines searing into his flesh and pulsing in tandem with his heartbeat.

A panel popped up at the edge of his vision.

【Obtained Skill: 【Shell】】

【Skill Description: When taking damage, stores a portion of the impact kinetic energy as “Echo Energy”.】

Erich pulled his lips back into a grim smile.

In this world where most people would never encounter proper magic in their entire lives, what else could those at the bottom—who struggled along the line between life and death—rely on to grow stronger, other than crudely channeling mana into their muscles to endure?

The answer was this very thing: Battle Scars. Every life-and-death struggle in an environment turbulent with mana, every trial of enduring the impact and tempering of magic, would leave invisible “scars” on the physical body. Once enough of these scars accumulated, they would undergo a qualitative change, transforming into a Battle Scar.

Unlike traditional magic, which required precise spell models and chanted incantations, a Battle Scar was the body's final swan song sung amidst life-and-death slaughter. Children of nobility used resources to pile up their magical talent, while children of commoners relied on desperate combat to condense Battle Scars. This world had always been so fair, yet so unfair.

What was merely a simple skill in the game had become a medal fought for against the world in reality.

A man in black slashed at him from the side. Erich could have dodged, but he didn't. Instead, he channeled all his remaining mana into his arms and crossed them in front of him.

The blade hacked into his forearm bone, grinding to a halt. At the same time, 【Shell】 swallowed most of the impact from the slash. A surge of pure energy condensed within him. Erich could feel that it could be used to mend his wounds, channeled into his sword to strengthen his next strike, or directly converted into mana to replenish his nearly dry core.

It was a powerful skill, but there were still over a dozen men in black surrounding him at the Return Platform—from all directions, leaving no blind spots.

No way down, and no way up... was that it?

Erich raised his head and looked up at the dusty-yellow sky of the Abyss. Spreading his wings once more, he flew straight upward.

Some of the men in black began to condense shadow arrows, while others dispersed to widen their perimeter. They were waiting for him to exhaust his strength and fall. With injuries like his, he wouldn't last long.

Erich continued upward. At a certain height, his figure abruptly vanished.

It was as if Erich had never existed.