His body swelled, skin flushing a deep, angry red. His face contorted in rage as taut muscles rippled and tore through his clothing. He was a monster, nothing more, nothing less.
The transformation was underwhelming to Nathan’s expectation.
System notifications flooded his vision, all warnings from [Mind of Tranquility]. The skill had engaged a constant state, a failsafe to protect his sanity while at Berserker 100%.
Perhaps his expectations had been skewed by [Titan’s Descendant]. He’d thought there would be some additional Hidden Effect. There were none.
His current form was that of a true Berserker, a path anyone could follow and just as easily die from. He wasn't sheathed in the Titan’s seemingly indestructible obsidian armor, but he could still feel a tidal wave of energy coursing through his body. It threatened to tear him apart from the inside, to blast him to pieces, yet he remained unharmed.
The enemy Tier 3 leader frowned and glided forward. From his approach, Nathan knew this was just a probe. Nathan clenched his own fist. Veins bulged on his skin as his knuckles emitted a series of sharp, popping cracks. He swung his arm, meeting the opponent's sand-wreathed attack head-on.
A shockwave blasted a groove across the top of the earthen wall, forcing back the Mirotheans standing near Nathan. The Tier 3 leader was thrown backward but instantly stabilized himself on a conjured wave of sand. Nathan himself slid, his boots scraping the ground, but he had only been pushed back a few feet.
The disparity in their strength was clear.
He could fight a Tier 3 on even terms. While the draconic bloodline hadn't provided a dramatic visual change, the underlying difference was undeniable. Without the bloodline's raw physical boost, his last blow would have been insufficient; he would have been the one knocked from the wall. The added physique had raised his upper limit. A Rare skill, he reasoned, had to provide tangible benefits.
"Kill him!" the Tier 3 commanded, his analysis complete.
The Mirothean cultivators, though only Tier 2, used their formations and wind-and-sand-related Aspects to take to the air and assault their target.
Nathan snarled. A deep, agonizing itch pulsed inside him, something clawing to get out. Finding no other outlet, he slammed his forehead into the first cultivator foolish enough to get close.
Triggered [Amplifying Strike]. One credit given.
Triggered [Flowing Strikes]. One credit given.
Triggered [Rebound]. One credit given.
Triggered [Internal Trauma]. One credit given.
Triggered [Bleeding]. One credit given.
The effect was astonishing. The cultivator's sand spear shattered on impact, as if Nathan's forehead were cast from pure Dragonium. The concussive force alone rippled through the man's defenses, scattering the sand constructs. Then, the force from [Rebound] struck, and his mana shield cracked like glass. But even that wasn't the end of Nathan's single, infuriated headbutt. The cultivator’s body exploded before his eyes, spraying in a wide arc behind him.
The itch remained. He clenched his fist, pouring mana into it. The power of both his Physical and Spirit Cultivation manifested in a single blow. The air shrieked as his crimson knuckles tore through it, his entire hand wreathed in searing heat.
More than eight cultivators who were rushing in jammed to a halt, desperately blasting mana to propel themselves backward. They stared in terror, unaware that Nathan hadn't been aiming at any one of them.
He was aiming at a single point in the air.
The punch detonated. A heavy, deadly force was unleashed in a cone before him. Space seemed to twist as mana and essence warped all matter in its path.
It wasn't just the eight, but over a dozen men who were blasted backward. The sand and wind they commanded turned on them, becoming blades that sliced at their mana barriers. The Dunehaunters and Sandwyrms below had to lunge upward to catch the tumbling, pinwheeling humans.
The itch still had not stopped.
Nathan was incredibly uncomfortable. He was missing something. But the lucidity maintained by [Mind of Tranquility] wasn't enough to give him the space to think.
The Mirothean army no longer threw themselves at him like moths to a flame. They circled, maintaining a safe distance.
The grating sound of sand began to change in his ears. He recognized it. It was the Tier 3's technique, the one that could affect his mind. Nathan seized the moment and coiled his legs. He shot forward, faster than a meteor. A deep hollow was formed in the thick earthen wall where his feet had been.
The air around him was scorching, but he paid it no mind. In mid-air, he slipped on his Tier 3 gloves. Mana blazed. He had no need to worry about depletion as long as [Death Leech] was in play.
As before, he aimed at a single point in the air. The cone-shaped shockwave was created again, twisting everything in its path, including the Tier 3.
The Tier 2s were thrown into chaos, but with their superior numbers and coordination, they covered for each other. It made Nathan's devastating attack seem almost like a joke.
A soft laugh came from behind him. The Tier 3 leader, in his tattered yellow robes, looked at him with unconcealed amusement.
Sand Doppelganger. Nathan wasn't surprised by this Mirothean skill. It was an ability that relied heavily on the environment, but it was precisely what they had gained by sacrificing a Tier 5.
The terrifying part was that this technique wasn't limited to Tier 3. Even Tier 2s could use it. In an instant, thousands of figures appeared, surrounding Nathan as he fell.
"That's not fair at all," he grumbled. The sound that escaped his throat was feral.
In response to his complaint, thousands of projectiles shot toward him. The world around him blurred, becoming nothing but overlapping streaks of yellow and white.
He was unperturbed. Leaning back, he recalled the skill of the Vermilion Ape Leader. Air Punch. A simple yet effective technique.
He executed it just as he had seen. Two punches aimed at opposing diagonal angles. The generated thrust launched him straight up, perfectly evading the volley of attacks. Explosions erupted all around him, sand scraping against his Qi Armor.
He spun, clapping his hands repeatedly, concealing terrifying bombs between his palms. Before the enemy was hit, his own ears were already bleeding from the sound he created. Hundreds more projectiles disintegrated or were stopped in their path, falling harmlessly below. Only a few managed to strike his body.
His hands formed a sharp angle, eyes targeting a spot on the wall. With two more Air Punches, he propelled himself back to safety.
He knew the enemy desperately wanted him to land in the sand. Once that happened, he suspected he'd never escape. Though not certain, he wouldn't risk testing the theory.
The Tier 3 leader, he judged, had tried to mask his intention of trapping him on the ground with that last volley, worried Nathan would see the trap. A tactical battle had just played out in a brief exchange. He had won, but it still wasn't enough.
Only now did he look at his hands. They were an unrecognizable, pulpy mess. Blood and flesh were mixed together, churning as [Healing Factor] tried to repair them. The concussive force from the claps had been too great. Executing them repeatedly had inflicted damage his body couldn't withstand, especially since he couldn't remove [Rebound] from the attack equation. Not because he was unable, but because of that sand attacking his mind.
"Nathan the cockroach," the Tier 3 said, his voice carrying a note of respect. "Too stubborn to succumb, are you?"
"That's the worst title one could get," Nathan retorted.
"But it's fitting, I've got to say. Still, I don't plan to leave my prize. I'll squish you under my hands."
As he spoke, the space around them shifted. Nathan only needed a glance to understand what was happening. An array.
From all over the desert, and from the hands of a thousand enemies, chains formed from sand. A bizarre clinking sound rose from the granular material as they wove together, reinforcing their own durability.
Nathan punched the ground as the chain-ends shot toward him. He didn't stop, striking again and again to repel the things trying to bind his feet. But the section of wall where he stood shattered, collapsing into a deep hollow. His last punch hit only air. The force was no longer enough to stop them.
Clank!
A loop bound his leg. As he turned, his right wrist was seized in a painful grip. He braced himself, preventing the chains from stretching him taut. One by one, the chains were reinforced.
He used his left hand to grab the chain on his leg. His grip shattered it instantly. But the sand flowed through his fingers, encasing his entire hand. He had to channel mana to destroy the makeshift gauntlet. By the time he did, the chain had already reformed.
Frustrated, he reached for the Lightning Aspect stored in his body, planning to use it to break the encirclement.
Triggered [Tingling Sense]. One credit given.
Triggered [Adrenaline Boost]. One credit given.
His hair stood on end. In his Berserker state, it became a bristling defense, preventing the scraping sand from reaching his skin. He scanned his surroundings, using the vision from [Martial Arts Mastery].
It was thin, but he could see it. Static charges within the sand all around him. It was cleverly hidden, concealed from normal vision. Even spirit vision couldn't easily find it.
He glanced at the Tier 3. The leader's eyes lit up when he saw the sparks of electricity dancing around Nathan. Realizing his opponent's intent, Nathan immediately shut down his next move.
The action made the Tier 3's eyes widen. Another loss in the battle of strategy and tactics.
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"Reinforce it!" the Tier 3 roared.
The chains around Nathan suddenly grew heavier. They became thicker, and the clinking sound now carried a nauseating ache that stabbed into his brain.
Annoyed, he strained with all his might to break the restraint. He didn't completely extinguish his Lightning Aspect, using just enough to increase his speed without letting sparks escape.
The itch inside him still hadn't stopped.
The air grew suffocating as the Tier 3 gathered his technique. While Nathan struggled with the Sand Prison Array, sand and wind swirled, the wind carrying a wolf-like howl. A massive fist, carrying an infuriating scraping sound, took shape.
He braced himself for the mountain descending upon him.
Using a mana blast, he destroyed the chain binding his wrist. Pinned in place, he couldn't use his waist and thighs to increase his strength. Still, he was confident he could block it.
Boom!
He was wrong.
His hand recoiled, the bones in his elbow twisting into a circle. A corner of the sand fist shattered under his power, but the rest slammed straight into his body.
His world dissolved into chaos, heaven and earth swapping places second by second. One moment, he saw himself flying backward off the wall. The next, he was jerked forward, pulled straight toward the ground.
In a panic, he used his Lightning Aspect. And that only made it worse.
He reappeared at a static charge point, completely against his will. The blood in his body felt like it had hit a dam at high speed, rebounding to splatter everywhere internally. His organs were in disarray. Blood seeped from his mouth, uncontrolled.
Another titanic punch slammed down, and he finally fell to the ground.
He sprang up, finding his legs already sunk deep into the sand below. A tingling itch spread, penetrating his boots and clothes.
Looking up, he saw the Tier 3 leader gliding slowly down from above, a victorious look in his eyes. The static charges, formed by the friction of sand particles, had finally worked to stop Nathan. The instability at one point might be small, but over a long distance, it meant enough contact with static charges to disrupt his control over his Lightning Aspect. This was why he respected Lachlan; the Major's control of Lightning had been far superior to his.
Part of him respected the Tier 3 for devising such a quick counter, another part was thrilled to meet such a worthy opponent. This was the kind of Mirothean warrior he had heard about on PsiLink. Cruel, arrogant, and intelligent.
Swallowing a mouthful of blood that rose in his throat, he glanced at the system. The continuous fighting had been enough to farm his credits back to a thousand.
He immediately exchanged for ten skill points and spent them on [Amplifying Strike].
[Amplifying Strike] Leveled Up!
Increase amplified damage to 150% (x2.5 damage).
As the mountain-sized fist descended once more, he swung his arm up.
Before his skin even reached the target, the explosion occurred. Energy surged out of him, focusing in his fingers. His punch surpassed all limits.
Shockwave after shockwave formed, layer upon layer. His ears rang from his own power.
The Tier 3's sand fist deformed, caving in like a suffocated ball. When it could bear no more, it exploded into a rain of sand that showered the surroundings. The terrifying aftershock submerged the sand doppelgangers, causing them to disintegrate. The remaining Tier 2 cultivators collapsed to the sand, blood pouring from their ears. Then, as blood gushed from their mouths, they tilted their heads to one side, dead.
The clash of Tier 3 power devastated the battlefield.
Nathan let out a sharp breath. The full Berserker state made him slightly unsure of his own destructive capabilities. By normal calculations, he carried the destructive power equivalent to a Tier 3. Combined with [Amplifying Strike], he estimated he was currently at the threshold of Tier 3, Phase 3 or higher.
The PsiLink assessment gave a similar result. This device usually had a stat evaluation module, but Nathan rarely used it. One, because it would store data, creating future risks. Two, it wasn't necessary. It was only now that he wanted a clearer assessment of himself.
Nathan swallowed, somewhat surprised. It seemed [Dragon Heart] wasn't useless in his current Berserker state. That marginal increase was all it took for him to repel the last attack from the enemy.
"Fascinating!" the Tier 3 exclaimed. "One that can compare to Adrian. You are such a valuable asset."
The opponent's words brought Nathan back to his senses. He was trapped. Sand from below rose like snakes to bind him. The Sand Prison Array was still active, continuously firing chains to bind him. The monsters lurked from all sides. The remaining Tier 2s kept a safe distance.
A few deaths were enough for [Death Leech] to recover his mana core. However, the situation was no better.
He bent his knees. Though not deep, what happened next was the result of bombs combining and exploding at once. The sand surface shook, rippling outward like waves. All he managed to create was a crater and new dunes. He couldn't escape.
His hands punched and squeezed, shattering the chains, then used mana to blast away the sand clinging to his hands. At this rate, his mana would be depleted. The 100% Berserker state couldn't be maintained for long.
He reached inside, finding his lava essence, planning to melt everything around him.
Just then, the tingling itch in his brain was finally addressed.
Passive Skills always lived up to their name; he couldn't always control them. Whether he wanted to or not, [Rebound] still affected his claps, [Bleeding] still cut his skin. All were compensated for by [Healing Factor]. And his skills were most terrifying in their synchronization.
Like [Tingling Sense] and [Adrenaline Boost]. Like [Mind of Tranquility] and [Anger Management]. Like [Cooking] and [Digestive Efficiency]. Strange combinations.
And he had just found another, stranger one: [Martial Arts Mastery] and [Dragon Heart].
When he touched the lava, a form of energy resonant with dragons, the door that had always been ajar swung wide open before him. If not for the fragile state of his mind due to Berserker 100%, he would have discovered this sooner.
The Arts of the Dragon.
His mind was flooded with images of martial arts masters. Humans had long tried to imitate this mythical creature. Majestic stances. Fingers curved into claws. Decisive movements to mimic the dragon. It was all in his head, just hidden by the madness and chaos.
Sand crept up his body while he was in this state of enlightenment. He ignored it. His heart and mind were focused solely on absorbing the footage from those masters.
Gradually, the chains bound him more and more, pulling him down. From his knees to his thighs, to his stomach. Not until he had sunk deep to his neck did he raise his head.
An ancient, mighty roar spread out. Like a colossal beast appearing on the battlefield. The Sandwyrms writhed, cowering and retreating, some even burrowing straight into the sand. The Dunehaunter scorpions used their rattling legs to scramble backward. The Sidewinders trembled, unable to move. The Sandhowlers covered their ears, burying their heads in the sand to hide.
The cultivators shivered, the hands holding the chains on Nathan loosening.
The Tier 3, seeing this, swung his hand, small sand particles exploding to drown out the dragon's roar.
However, that momentary lapse was enough for Nathan to act.
The sand packed around him vibrated, rattling down to the ground. He tensed, sending mana racing through his body, and swung his arms up. A magnificent illusion formed from his shoulders. A pair of crimson, ethereal dragon wings, blazing hot, took shape. They melted the sand behind him, turning it to lava in an instant.
He reared back. The three-meter-wide wings beat once, pulling him up. But the chains found him, binding him. The sand surface once again wanted to swallow him.
The dragon wings beat. Wind howled and fire danced. The chains snapped. He drew his sword, carving mana arcs. With a final, ringing clang, the wings on his back flared, launching him into the sky. The last chain was broken.
He shot upward, wings tucked behind, stabbing straight toward the Tier 3. He swapped in his sharp gauntlets. His fingers followed the memories from [Martial Arts Mastery]. Dragon Claws carved crimson arcs through the air, shattering the sand defense, piercing through the Tier 3's massive fist.
The enemy spat blood, retreating as all his unleashed skills disintegrated under Nathan's assault. Sand melted, dripping and hissing to the ground.
"I suppose you don't have a plan for this," Nathan mocked.
"Draconic Bloodline," the Tier 3 marveled from behind the veil. "So the intel is true. You're such a burden to catch."
Whoosh! Nathan attacked. He charged the enemy, wings beating behind him. The movement came as naturally as if it had always been part of him. His claws formed, as large as a human body, stabbing at his foe.
A Khopesh sword swung out, golden light flashing. The two clashed, energy turning to chaos. After pushing the Tier 3 aside, Nathan shot toward the Tier 2s.
The chains were still trying to find him but were disintegrated by the heat of his wings. Unbound, he easily impaled a Dunehaunter trying to protect its master. The monster shattered into pieces from just one casual attack.
Nathan opened his mouth and let his other instinct take over. The sound that erupted was far more terrifying than when he was just a Berserker. It was like the first time he received [Dragon Heart]. A heat wave radiated from him, from every part of his body, not just his mouth.
The Tier 2 cultivators writhed, curling up as the sound wave assaulted them. Before it ended, the heat wave arrived, destroying their defenses. Nathan glided in, wings beating. With each decisive claw strike, he reaped a life.
Triggered [Death Leech]. One credit given.
Triggered [Death Leech] x 11…
Energy surged. He spun, throwing a punch at the Tier 3 who had just arrived. This time, he didn't completely gain the upper hand. Both were thrown backward. Nathan's dragon wings flickered for a moment.
In mid-air, he lowered his body, legs extended. Mana flowed around him, shaping into a massive dragon enveloping his form.
The enemy was no less impressive. Desert sand enveloped him, a tornado dominating the space.
The two sides collided. Space seemed to warp. The dragon's mouth opened wide, wanting to bite hard into the tornado's waist. But in the end, its head shattered. Two pairs of claws raked forward, only to be broken.
Nathan spun, using the tail to whip forward. The crimson illusion dissipated on impact. He gritted his teeth, tensing both arm muscles, using a bit of Aspect Amplifier. Wings beat once. He shot forward, two attacks focused on a single point in the air.
The sandstorm finally stopped, scattering. The Tier 3 was revealed, arms crossed protectively. Nathan's force had compelled him to defend. His eyes blazed, the frustration making his blue eyes lose their calm.
The stacks from [Internal Trauma] had finally taken effect.
The lava essence inside him was dwindling, especially after burning it for that last counter-attack. Berserker could be maintained a while longer, but his arsenal would be empty.
He glanced around, looking for an escape route. Darkan's request was to stay in the desert, not necessarily to fight. With these temporary wings, he could create enough distance to buy time. The treaty was being negotiated; it had to end eventually. Caelindor couldn't hold out much longer. The problem was, Mirothea could. He knew that, so his mind couldn't help but weary at the prospect before him.
The Tier 3 spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, staring at Nathan as if wanting to slice him into a thousand pieces. Only now did he start muttering.
"You're gonna slip!"
If anything reinforced the chance of [Bad Juju] occurring, it was having as many debuffs on the opponent as possible. His experiment had led to that conclusion. And right now, his opponent was both exhausted and disoriented by [Internal Trauma]. He believed that if he cursed a million times, one would have to succeed.
His opponent, seeing him muttering, frowned. Without a word, he vanished from Nathan's sight.
Triggered [Tingling Sense]. One credit given.
Triggered [Adrenaline Boost]. One credit given.
"Do you know what the harshness of the desert is like, water-waster?" The enemy's voice echoed from all directions. Even using spirit vision, he couldn't pinpoint him. "Lapse your focus for even a moment, and someone will steal your water. To defend, one must learn the ways of the desert. You know, when a normal person enters this gods-damned arid place, they easily see illusions. Mirothea taught me well. You don't fight the illusion. You use it."
He's everywhere! The thought made Nathan's skin crawl.
He knew it was impossible, but he couldn't stop that conclusion. And he understood even more clearly, what his opponent was unleashing wasn't just attacking the mind. It was at the spirit level.
"You're smart and well-prepared," the Tier 3 whispered as if right by his ear. "But those who survive in the desert must always be at least three steps ahead of the enemy. The Dunehaunter has taught us many things. Water-waster, do you have any idea how much sand you've inhaled?"
Beneath his skin, deep in his blood vessels, tiny sand particles halted inside Nathan. They lay there, vibrating continuously. Just like that, the pain of a thousand needles assaulted him in an instant.
His neck itched, feeling like it would tear open. The sound that escaped was just a low, hoarse rasp.
"When a Dunehaunter targets its prey, it doesn't attack immediately," the Tier 3 said. "It does things very slowly, very precisely. From the small to the large, it's all the same. It follows the prey. It even lets the prey see it. Because the psychology of humans or animals, when they see something, they lower their defenses against it. A scorpion in your sight, but far away, you won't be too suspicious of it anymore."
The thin thread of rationality in Nathan's mind struggled to beat the dragon wings. Right now, the last thing he needed was to be trapped in the sand again.
"But that's the fatal point. You see, the Dunehaunter just keeps following you, and it slowly releases its alluring moisture into the air. This substance calms your mind. A cool freshness in the middle of the desert. But inhale enough, and you're already in the monster's grasp. And only when you're careless, when you underestimate it just enough, it will fly out of the sand, use its massive pincers to cut off your head. Its tail just stabs in and sucks your body dry."
When Nathan opened his eyes again, he saw hundreds of scorpion stingers pointing at him. He swung his hand, creating a heat wave to erase them.
His whole body was scorching with every move. The sand particles inside his body couldn't be expelled. They stuck there like superglue. Even as [Healing Factor] tried to pry them out, it had no effect.
"Nathan Reed, surrender," the Tier 3 said, victory thick in his voice. "Fighting above your Tier is commendable, I'll give you that. But life doesn't present limits just so you can overcome them every time. Let's end this here, and I'll be easier on you."
Nathan gritted his teeth, refusing to yield. He could still get out of this.
A tiger’s roar tore through the air, finding him.
His ally was coming.
And the enemy's ally, the Obsidian Fang Sect, was also near.